22. Scarlett
Why are men so unimaginative when it comes to birthday presents? I’ve steered Jamie away from the usual chocolates and candles and I’m currently trying to convince him to buy a book I know Pat wants to read.
Is he listening to me? Nope, and now I want to smack him with said book.
“She loves this author; I got her the first one in the series for Christmas.
I know she hasn’t read this yet because I borrow them from her when she’s done.”
Jamie looks confused by that information.
“Do you even know your mother?”
I’m exasperated.
He takes the book from me and flips it over to read the blurb.
He flicks through the first few pages, “This is filthy! I can’t buy my mother a book full of sex,”
he goes to put it back on the shelf.
“Get a grip, give me it,”
I snatch it from his hands and head to the counter.
“Yes, you can, it’s a romance novel not a bloody how to guide.”
I’m shaking my head as Jamie follows me to the front of the store.
“It’s the twenty first century, not the Middle Ages.
Women read books with sex scenes in, and that includes your mum.
Shocking, I know,”
I hand over the book to the assistant and step aside to let Jamie pay.
He doesn’t argue any further, but I can’t stifle the giggle as I see just how uncomfortable he is about the purchase.
The girl behind the counter and I exchange a smile as she hands over the book in a carrier bag.
“See, she’s put it in a bag so nobody will know you’ve bought a dirty book for your mum.”
I couldn’t help myself, seeing Jamie mortified was worth it.
He thanks the girl and hurries me out of the shop.
“I need a drink,”
he says as he grasps my hand and pulls it behind his back so I’m tucked into his side.
I rest my hand on his hip as he throws his arm around my shoulders and drags me to him for a kiss.
“You are unbelievable,”
he whispers against my temple.
“I need to buy something to go with the book, I can’t just hand over a dirty book.
I need something to counteract the filth.”
Giggling at how ridiculous he’s being, I steer him into a department store, “How about some perfume?”
He looks pained again.
“What’s wrong with perfume,”
I ask incredulously.
“I bet she never buys herself it.”
Picking up a bottle of Marc Jacobs’ Daisy, I hold it up for him.
“This is my favourite,”
I spritz one of the fragrance sticks with the perfume and hand it to him to smell before I have a cheeky spray on my wrists and neck.
“What do you think?”
He lifts the paper strand to his nose and sniffs.
“I like it, but I can’t have my mother smelling like you, that’s just not right, Scar,”
he drops the paper strand into the bin and goes to pick up a bottle of Clinique Happy instead.
“This will do.”
At least he’s picked something half decent, even though I’m not sure it’s a scent Pat would pick for herself.
“Can we please go eat now? I’ve just realised I haven’t eaten since breakfast,”
he rubs the back of his neck, “I’m starving and on the verge of getting hangry.”
My hand comes to rest on his abdomen, giving his tummy a gentle rub.
I can feel the ridges of his abs beneath his T-shirt.
“Poor Spooky,”
mocking him, my mouth turns down, faking being sad for him.
“Let’s go find somewhere to fill that void then.”
He grimaces when I use his army moniker.
In an attempt to appease him I suggest we go to Nando’s.
“Nando’s is hardly going out for dinner, is it?”
He wraps his arm around me as we stroll down the main street in the centre of town.
“How about The Ivy? It’s not far from here,”
he turns to me when I stiffen at the side of him.
“What? Too posh?” he asks.
“No, but we’re not really dressed for The Ivy, how about the pub? The Old George does a mean meat pie and their chips are those awesome fat ones with the seasoning,”
the pub is one of my favourite places to eat; not just the Old George, I like bar meals in general.
They’re my idea of heaven.
I’m salivating at the thought and Jamie’s tummy rumbles right on cue making me laugh again.
“Pub it is then.”
Jamie places two beers on the table, then settles himself next to me in the booth.
I lift the bottle to my mouth and take a welcomed drink.
It’s like nectar as the liquid slides down my throat.
I snuggle into his side, still astounded that this is our relationship now.
We’ve always been close, obviously, but not this kind of close. It feels special and right. “Comfy?”
he teases me as I try to get closer still without actually climbing him like a tree.
“Very, thanks,”
I drink some more of my beer and watch as people go about their business while we wait for our food.
We both ordered the meat pie; the pull of the chips and gravy combo was too strong.
“You haven’t told me how your session went this morning,”
his body tenses beside me and instantly I regret asking.
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
He pauses to take a drink, when I risk glancing up at him, he looks a little pained.
The wrinkles around his eyes deepen as he considers what he wants to tell me.
His hands go to the chain that hangs around his neck and when he pulls it free from his T-shirt, I realise he’s wearing army dog tags.
But they’re not his, they’re my brothers.
My breath stutters in my throat and I need to sit up a little in order to breathe properly. He takes my movement as me trying to distance myself from him and he halts me, tightening his hold around my shoulders.
“Hey, it’s okay. I’m not going anywhere, just sitting up a little.”
He relaxes a little at my words.
“The tags are Tom’s, it kinda threw me for a second.”
He looks down at the metal tags he’s holding on to and runs his thumb across my brother’s name.
“Yeah, they help me feel closer to him,”
he turns to look at me now.
“Sorry, do they upset you?”
he swiftly tucks them back inside his T-shirt.
Making sure they’re hidden from view.
“I put them on when I got out of the hospital, I’ve not taken them off since.”
He finishes his beer and I take the opportunity to stand and go grab another round.
“Same again?”
I ask, it’ll give me a minute to compose myself.
It doesn’t bother me that he’s wearing them, I understand his reasoning.
It was just a shock.
The last time I saw them, they were around Tom’s neck and I’m all too aware that he’ll never wear them again.
When I return with another two bottles of beer our food is waiting for me. Jamie, like the gentlemen he is, is waiting for me to sit back down before he tucks in.
“You alright?”
He lifts my hand to his mouth and gently kisses the back of my hand.
“I didn’t mean to upset you,”
I can see he’s worried that he’s screwed up, and he really hasn’t.
“I’m fine, it just took me by surprise.
I like that you’re wearing them.
It kind of feels like the three of us are together again, and that’s a nice feeling,”
I pick up my knife and fork, spearing a chip and dipping it into the gravy before I devour it.
“Jeez, they’re better than I remember.”
Reassured that I’m not about to have a meltdown in the middle of the pub, Jamie picks up his cutlery and digs into his food.
We sit in a food induced coma as Jamie orders a couple of cokes using the pub app on his phone.
“I’m too full to move,”
I offer in defence for not going to the bar to order.
“The therapist thinks I need to start this thing called CBT, he said that kind of thing will help me to deal with the flashbacks and the panic,”
his fingers are entwined with mine and he squeezes my hand ever so lightly.
“I’d not heard of it before but I read up on it when I got back this morning.
I’m going to give it a go, it can’t hurt to try.”
The waiter arrives and places our drinks on the table, taking away our empty plates and bottles as he leaves.
“It can take months though, and I’m worried things might get worse before they get better.
The doctor said I might need someone to help put the pieces back together,”
I tilt my head up to look at him.
He’s anxious and little beads of sweat have formed at his brow.
Reaching up, I run my finger along his jawline towards his mouth.
He turns swiftly and nips my fingertip with his teeth causing me to jump.
“If you mean me, then I’m all in.
I can be that somebody for you.”
I want to be the person he can turn to.
He’s always been there for me and my brother, and this is my chance to support him.
“I’m worried it’ll put too much strain on us just now.
This is all new and I’m liking the little bubble we’re creating.
I don’t want anything to ruin that.
Maybe we need to put a pin in this until I’m in a better place?”
his question hits me hard, right in the gut, bile rises and causes a lump to form in my throat.
The fear of him pulling away from me is suffocating.
“No.
That’s not how this works, Jay!”
I scramble to sit up properly so I can look at him straight on.
“Do not shut me out now, we will get you through this.
I’m all in, I thought we’d agreed on that earlier.
Whatever comes our way, we face it together.”
I pick up my glass of coke and take a gulp, wishing I’d ordered something stronger instead now.
We may have gone from friends to whatever this is in the blink of an eye but it feels right to me.
Jamie feels like home and I’m not about to let that go anytime soon.
Jamie leans forward, takes my glass from hand and places it back on the table.
“The next few weeks will be hard, so thank you in advance.
Maybe I should apologise now, you know for all the crap that’s about to come our way.”
I place my finger on his lips to silence him, and nod my head.
“Apology accepted.”