11. Roxie
Christmas Day came with a squeal from Piper that was so loud I wouldn’t have been surprised if the caravan windows had shattered. I sat up in bed and listened to my sister’s family relish in the joy of awakening to Christmas presents and took a moment to relish in my own joy—the throb of my body.
I could still feel Henry’s hot tongue gliding over my pussy. That orgasm was easily the most incredible one of my life. He absolutely knew what he was doing. For the first time in a decade, I’d truly let go. Maybe it was longer than a decade.
My lovemaking with Nathan had never reached that level of intensity. Sure, at the beginning, it was all new and exciting, but by the end, it was... I tried to pinpoint the right word, and the only one that came to mind was boring.
Boring.
How could sex be boring? But it had been.
Nathan and I had been seeing each other for six months before we’d actually had sex. At the time, I’d been a bit nervous, and Nathan wasn’t an expert in foreplay, so it was a little awkward. Ultimately, it wasn’t as mind-blowing as I’d hoped.
And he didn’t improve much in our ten years together, either. I’d never thought much about it until after he’d left and I’d had sex with Dex, who’d given me so much foreplay I was nearly exhausted by the time he crawled on top of me.
While that had been good, and the few other times I’d had sex had been good too, now that I’d been with Henry, I knew just how amazing an orgasm could be. It made me wonder if I’d faked them before. It was not necessary to fake an orgasm with Henry.
In two days, Henry had given me two climaxes that were beyond extraordinary.
Was that because of our setting? The beach at midnight, under the light of the full moon, was a delightful aphrodisiac. And on that gorgeous yacht, where the roll of his tongue matched the steady rock of the boat.
Or was it that I’d matured enough to understand my body?
Or was it because I was just soooo ready to have a few mind-blowing orgasms?
I had no idea. One thing I did know, though, was that I couldn’t wait to see Henry again.
I glanced at the clock. It was just past 6 a.m. I wasn’t due to meet him until tonight. It saddened me that he was spending all of Christmas Day alone. But he’d insisted that I spend the day with my family. Come nine o’clock tonight, he said he’d be waiting for me beneath our magic tree, but he’d said he understood if I wasn’t able to make it.
Maybe that was why I’d fallen for his advances. Henry was a gentleman. I’d met my share of men his age, and many of them were so full of self-importance that they didn’t seem to even notice anyone around them. Henry, however, made me feel like I was the only woman on the planet.
Piper burst into fits of laughter and feeling like I was missing out, I jumped out of bed, stripped out of my nightdress, and slipped on a sundress. I ran my fingers through my hair, tousled my curls, then planted a smile on my face and went in search of my family.
They were all in the annex, surrounded by a mountain of shredded Christmas paper. I was a little disappointed they hadn’t waited for me. Todd and Priscilla were in camp chairs, nursing big mugs of steaming coffee. The kids were on the floor, already playing with their new toys. The Christmas tree lights twinkled merrily, and Harry Connick Junior was crooning a Santa song on the radio. It was the picture of Christmas morning bliss.
“Hey, look who’s awake,” Todd turned my way.
“Merry Christmas, Todd.” I leaned in to kiss his cheek and felt his rough stubble. It made me think of Henry. I couldn’t recall noticing his stubble at all.
I kissed my sister’s cheek. “Merry Christmas, Sis.”
“Merry Christmas. Did we wake you?”
“Yes, but that’s okay. It’s meant to be like this on Christmas morning.” Last Christmas morning flashed through my mind. I’d sat alone with my cat and watched the Christmas cheer revealed from around the world on my television. Come to think of it, that was the same as the last few Christmas mornings.
I kissed and hugged my niece and nephews and then, in need of a coffee, I returned to the van’s kitchen and clicked on the kettle.
Just the thought of all those lonely Christmas mornings, where it seemed everyone was enjoying the festivities with their immediate families but me, had my thoughts plummeting to my parents.
I’d never forgive them for what they did to me.
Yet they pretended like it had never happened.
My parents lived in some kind of bubble. A bubble that made them ignorant of my feelings. I never truly felt connected to them, not like I did with Priscilla. Sometimes, I wondered if my parents had forgotten what they’d done to me. But surely, it was impossible to erase something so brutal from a person’s memory.
Both of them seemed devastated that I hadn’t found a man to spend my life with, and they were adamant I wasn’t trying hard enough.
After they’d returned from their first mission seven years ago, they’d suggested that I adopt an underprivileged child from Tanzania or Somalia or one of the other third-world countries they’d visited. “The poor little orphans were screaming out for someone to look after them,” my mom had said.
They’d been very pushy about it, and it had ended in a heated discussion that had me saying things that I should have regretted. But I didn’t.
“You don’t mean that,” they’d say when I’d voiced my opinion.
“Look at you, you’re all alone.” That was another favorite saying of my mother’s.
“What about when you’re old? Who’s going to be there for you then?”
Their questions cut deep. The last thing I needed was my mother pointing out that I was all alone. As if I hadn’t noticed it almost every single day of my thirties.
They kept at it, though, to the point where they were making me feel guilty about not wanting to adopt a child. Over the years, I’d asked them to leave my house many times.
Now, though, my parents spend more time abroad helping others than they do at home. When they were home, they drove Priscilla and me insane with their ridiculous ideologies. Priscilla could never do anything right by our parents, either. And more than once, my mom had whispered in my ear about how bad Priscilla was as a mother.
“How many dresses does one girl need?” Mother would ask. “Why does Gunner need new shoes? You know you could feed an entire village in Malawi with all this food?”
I no longer just walked away from those comments, and I couldn’t decide if it was because my mother was becoming more painful, or because I was becoming less tolerant.
Either way, our mother-daughter relationship was toxic. Irreparably damaged.
I realized I was strangling the coffee mug and put it down before I broke off the handle. I inhaled a deep breath and let it out slowly. As the water boiled, I shoved my parents from my mind and wondered what Henry would be doing this morning.
The poor man was all alone because of me.
Then again, he had said he was going home to an empty house anyway. Henry and I certainly had that in common, even though we’d reached that position in our lives differently. I couldn’t imagine him stressing about being alone. He probably had heaps of friends. Golfing buddies or something. I made a mental note to ask him what he did in his spare time. That could be one of my questions in his twenty-question game.
After I made my instant coffee, I returned to my family in the annex and sat in one of the chairs. Piper had a glittery handbag in which she was arranging some hair clips and a fake cell phone. Chase and Gunner were setting up a car racing track on the fake grass floor in the annex and it was nice to see them working together for a change. Their little hands had the track constructed quickly, and before I’d finished my coffee, the boys had their cars racing around at full speed.
After a while, I leaned toward my sister. “Can they open my presents?” I whispered.
Priscilla nodded. “Of course.”
I placed my mug down. “Who wants to open Aunty Roxie’s presents?”
The three of them yelled in unison, “Me!”
“Gunner, can you bring me that box from under the tree, please?” He wriggled beneath the decorated branches and pulled out a dark green Christmas-decorated box. As he carried it toward me, I was once again struck by how much he looked like his father. He was destined to be as handsome as his father, too. And if he was anything like his dad, he’d have girls chasing after him non-stop.
Not that Priscilla had ever had to worry about that. Todd only had eyes for her.
I lifted the lid on the box and handed the first present to my sister. “Merry Christmas, Sis.”
“Awww, thank you.” Her pretty nails tugged at the sticky tape, and Priscilla made every effort not to rip the paper. The present was the same one I purchased for her every year. A bottle of J’Adore perfume and a mug. This year’s mug was hot pink and had ‘Classy, Sassy and a little bit Assy’ written in black on the side. Piper covered her mouth and giggled when Priscilla turned it to her children to see. After years of trying to be creative with my sibling’s gifts, I finally gave in to her request to buy the same perfume each year. The mug was my way of keeping it fresh.
I handed the next gift to Piper. The little girl did the exact opposite of her mother, and with a flurry of ripping paper, she revealed a gift perfect for the little fashion designer in her. The box looked big in her tiny hands. It contained a little sewing machine, fabrics, threads, beads, and all sorts of fun stuff so she could make clothes for her dolls.
Piper’s eyes lit up when she realized what it was, and she raced over to give me a hug. “Now we can make clothes together,” she squealed in my ear.
“Yes, we can, sweetheart.” Just that little squeeze made waking up early all worth it.
I handed out the rest of the presents. Remote control cars for the boys, and for Todd, I gave him a hammock and the latest Lee Child crime thriller. Todd turned the book over and I could tell he was already looking forward to curling up with that novel later.
Breakfast was a big cook-up with enough eggs and bacon to feed the entire holiday park, but I didn’t utter a word for fear of sounding like my mother.
After the kids had devoured their meals, they took off on their bikes to investigate what all the other kids got for Christmas. The peace following their departure was an instant relief.
“So, Sis.” Priscilla leaned back in her chair and gave me the look that had my nerves shuddering. “Why don’t you tell us about your new man?”
I tilted my head to the side. I’d been surprised Priscilla had waited this long to get the details. “He’s not my new man, as you put it. We’ve just had a couple of dates.”
“Who is he?” Todd smiled, genuinely curious.
“Yeah, do you know his surname yet?” Mischief was written across Priscilla’s eyes.
I cringed. “Yes, of course. It’s Matheson.” I lied. I had no idea where that name came from, and I was going to have a hell of a time explaining myself if the truth was ever revealed.
“So, what’s he do?” Todd put his coffee mug on the table.
“He’s an ear, nose, and throat specialist.”
“Hmmm, how’d you meet?”
“We met on the beach, and he seemed nice, so we had a few drinks a bit later that night. It was nice.” I was rambling.
“Nice? Seems to me you like him.” Todd grinned.
I felt a flush blazing up my neck.
“Oh my God, you had sex with him!” Priscilla’s voice was shrill.
“No, I haven’t.” It was true. We hadn’t actually had sex yet.
She pointed her red nail at me and squinted her eyes. “I don’t believe you.”
I cleared my throat and shrugged. “Believe whatever you want.”
“So, how old is he? Is he married? Divorced? Have kids? What’s his story?” Todd fired the questions.
“He’s divorced and has two children.” I dodged a couple of his subjects.
“Where’s he live?” Priscilla asked.
“Sydney.”
“Sydney?” She gasped. “Well, that’s not going to work.”
“Jeez, Priscilla, we’re just having fun, not about to get married.”
“How old are his kids?” She asked.
I was tempted to lie again. Yet I had no idea why. Did I have a problem with Henry’s age? I didn’t think so. “They’re twenty-three and twenty?—.”
“Twenty-three!” Priscilla snapped. “How old is he?”
I pulled my shoulders back. “He’s just turned sixty.”
“Sixty. Holy hell, Rox, what are you doing? He’s an old man.”
I clenched my jaw. Was sixty old?
At what age does a person earn the label old? Sometimes I felt old. Surely it was their attitude and not their age that made them old. “He’s not old. And he certainly doesn’t look his age.”
“God, I thought you’d learn after Nathan,” Priscilla bulged her eyes at me.
I stiffened. Todd seemed to shuffle back in his chair, and I had the feeling he’d run from the room if he wasn’t trapped in the corner.
“What was wrong with Nathan?” I spat the words at my sister.
“What was right with him? He held you back. When you should’ve been out partying, all he wanted to do was stay home and watch sports. He didn’t want to travel or do anything fun. He was boring.”
Boring. There was that word again.
“Well, Henry’s nothing like that. Yesterday, we went sailing, and the day before, we skinny-dipped beneath the full moon.” I said it before I’d even thought of the consequences.
“What the hell? So, you have had sex with him.”
“I said skinny dipping.”
“Oh! So, you just stripped off naked together, and then nothing happened. Yeah, right!”
“I didn’t say nothing happened.” I couldn’t help the smile curling at my lips. “I said we didn’t have sex.”
Priscilla glared at me like I’d announced I had leprosy.
“Jesus. Why can’t you just be pleased that I’ve found a man who makes me happy?”
Todd nodded, and I wished he’d either say something or go away.
Priscilla seemed to deflate. “Sixty, really?” She shook her head like it was the worst news she’d heard in years.
I flicked my hand. “Forget it. You have no idea what I’ve been through.” I stormed from the annex. I didn’t know where I was going. I just had to get away.
I strode up the street with the sun beaming down on my head and Christmas songs filling the air with merry jingles. The happy songs were a brutal contrast to the thumping anger barreling through my brain.
Before I knew it, I was at Henry’s tree.
Flicking tears from my eyes, I plonked down in the shade. But the tears kept coming, and I sobbed for my years of loneliness. Years of sleeping alone and eating alone. Shopping. Gardening. Watching movies. No matter what, it was always alone.
All I wanted was someone to love me.
Someone who’d hold me tight when my stupid, ignorant family pissed me off. Someone who’d take me out to dinner and was proud to show me off in public. Someone who was equally happy to curl up on the sofa and eat honey-coated popcorn and watch re-runs of Friends.
Was that too much to ask?
Clearly, it was. After Nathan had walked out, I’d spent a couple of years crying over him. My early thirties were a wasted blur. And I felt like a fool for letting those prime years of my life slip away. Before I knew it, I was approaching forty, and that’s when I started dating again.
But it seemed all the single men that suited my age bracket were either cocky bastards, had way too much baggage, or were so shy they could barely hold a conversation.
Life simply hadn’t played out the way I’d planned. I blamed a hell of a lot of that on my parents. I didn’t want to go down that rabbit hole again, so I forced my brain to think of Henry.
He made me feel incredible. When I was with him, I became all tingly inside, like my veins had been topped up with champagne.
Yes, he was sixty. And a grandfather. So what?
Why was either of them a problem?
From what I’d seen of Henry so far, he had more life in him than I had.
But then, I didn’t really know him.
What type of man voluntarily spends Christmas on his own? Was his reason true?
Did he really cancel his flight just to be with me?
My mind spun around.
Was everything he told me a lie?