Chapter 16 December 16th #3
I keep my body forward, my eyes following him until they can follow him no more.
He’s behind me. Flakes of pastry dust my fingers, floating down to the plate as Dec pushes his back up against me, leaning past me to place his coffee down.
Hot breath hits my ear, and my spine rolls one vertebra at a time until it’s ramrod straight.
“I think it’s too early to be up on a Saturday.
” He turns me on the stool to face him, my pastry hanging in my limp hand.
“Me too.” Taking a bite out of my pastry, I chew, anticipation back with a vengeance, while Dec studies me thoughtfully. “What?” I ask, mumbling around my mouthful.
“Did you see the first aider?”
“Huh?”
He reaches for my cheek, turning my face a little.
“Oh, yes, of course.”
“Does it hurt?”
“Not so much.” He hums his doubt and pops a kiss on my nose, turning me back. “Does that mean we’re not going back to bed?” I ask.
“Sounds like I need some energy.” Reaching for the plate, Dec plucks an almond croissant off and rips off a piece like an animal.
“You better have two of those,” I say, slipping the last of my breakfast past my lips. “Maybe three.”
Dec laughs, and the sight is nothing less than incredible. I swallow around my smile, suitably full, and dust off my hands. “I like this Camryn,” he says, taking his elbows down to the island, leaning on them, making his biceps bulge and his stomach crease.
“I like her too,” I admit.
“Good.” He smirks. I smirk. He raises his brows, I raise mine. He cocks his head, I cock mine.
He’s teasing me. Making me wait. I’m about to go to him and physically drag him back to bed when the distant ringing of my phone reaches the kitchen.
It jars me, if only because I have absolutely no idea who’d call me at this time on a Saturday morning.
Dread is quick on the heels of that bewilderment.
Mum. It must be the care home about Mum.
Urgency powers my muscles as I hop off the stool and hurry out of the kitchen, following the sound of my ringing phone to the hallway.
My bag is hanging on the coat stand with my coat. A number greets me. Not the care home.
“Are you okay?” Dec asks from behind me.
“I don’t know who it is,” I reply, staring down at the screen.
“Want to answer it and find out?”
I turn and see his naked shoulder resting on the doorframe. “Dec Ellis has a sense of humour today, huh?”
“My dry wit and comic genius weren’t what attracted you to me in the first place?”
“No, it was your heartbreakingly good looks.”
“I’m not going to break your heart, darling,” He comes to me and drops an easy, casual kiss on my cheek. “I’m going to mend it.” Said with equal casualness, and yet so much confidence, as he wanders off and climbs the stairs. “Take the call, and then take me to bed, baby.”
“Or lose you forever?”
“Nothing will make you lose me.”
My heart. “I love this Dec Ellis,” I say, my smile unstoppably wide.
“He only makes an appearance for you.”
Satisfaction so warm glides through me like melted, velvety chocolate.
Smooth and rich. Addictive. Playful Dec.
He’s sweet. And very unexpected. Yes, it was his good looks.
But that aside, it was his depth that got me.
How I could read him without him giving me a word or even any emotion.
The stoic, serious businessman everyone in his orbit gets.
It makes me wonder how he was with his ex-wife.
I pout and rewind. She’s not his ex-wife yet. But neither is Dominic my ex-husband.
I can fix that.
Dec can’t, because he can’t find her. And the questions roll. Who is she, where did she go, and, most of all . . . why?
By the time I’ve finished pondering things that I can’t possibly answer myself, my phone has stopped ringing. So I call the number back, going to the stairs and lowering to the bottom step.
Someone picks up but doesn’t speak. “Hello?” I say, sounding noticeably wary.
“Hello,” they reply.
I frown. “Mr. Percival?”
“Indeed it is. Thank God you’re okay.”
“I saved your number.”
“My mobile number, dear. This is my landline.”
“Do people still have landlines?”
“I used up all of my free minutes on my mobile.”
“The brick.”
“Huh?”
“Never mind. What do you want?”
“You didn’t come home last night. I was worried.”
“I stayed at a . . ..friend’s.”
“Ohhh, I see. A friend’s, eh? Is that what we’re calling him?”
Rolling my eyes, I stand. “Did your electric get fixed?”
“Yes, toasty warm now, dear. This friend . . . I’m trusting he’s trustworthy?”
I smile and frown all at once. “So the turkey’s not in the front garden now?”
“I’m sorry my turkey’s offending you. Now, back to the friend. Is he—”
“I have to go. I’ll be home later.” I pull up. “Maybe.” Hanging up, I abandon my phone and hurry up the stairs, slowing when I hear Dec talking.
“Well, he wasn’t here to wish me a happy birthday, April.
” He sees me in the doorway, and I give him a look of utter disbelief.
It’s his birthday? Dec shrugs and lowers to the edge of his bed.
“Your steadfast optimism is commendable and a waste of fucking time. The man’s a fully-fledged, self-centred narcissist.” My eyes widen, and Dec frowns down the line.
“That’s below the belt. I’m nothing like him.
” Feeling like a spare part and an intruder, I turn on my bare feet to head downstairs, but I make it only a few paces before an arm loops round my waist and lifts me from my feet, carrying me back into the bedroom.
Dec laughs, the sound cool and sharp. “He doesn’t have a fucking heart, April, so it can’t be dodgy.
” He places me on my feet at the end of the bed.
“I’ll see you soon. And thanks,” he adds, his genuine show of gratitude softer.
“You know I appreciate you guys.” His phone is tossed on the bed, and he tackles me down to the mattress, smothering me and sinking his face into my neck.
I don’t know where to start. His dad’s supposed dodgy heart or his birthday. “You didn’t say it was your birthday.” I smack his bare back, annoyed that he neglected to give me such vital information.
“It’s just another day.”
“No, it’s not. It’s your birthday.”
Groaning, Dec crawls off me and lays front down on the bed, and I clamber to straddle his arse, having to shimmy my dress up to do so.
He places his arms under his head and rests his cheek there so I can see his profile as I start tickling his back, grazing my fingers up and down his spine, smiling when his muscles tense and his shoulder blades pinch in the middle.
“That’s nice,” he whispers, closing his eyes.
I lean down and get my mouth close to his ear. “Happy birthday.”
He smiles, pushing his face into mine. “Thank you.” Then he shuffles over. “Who was on the phone?”
“Mr. Percival. He was worried about me.”
“That’s sweet.”
“He also asked if you’re trustworthy.”
“Cheeky bastard.”
Falling to his chest, I frame his face with my hands and exhale as I press my mouth to his, feeling his hands sliding up my back, his mouth opening, his tongue meeting mine. “It’s your fortieth.”
“I know.”
“Are you feeling forty?”
“No.” He cups my backside with both palms. “I’m feeling thirty-seven.”
I grin and nibble at his jawline, and he groans and rolls us, trapping me beneath him, taking my mouth.
“It fucking pains me to say this,” he murmurs, taking moments between our kiss to speak. “But I’ve got to go.”
“Nooooo,” I groan, locking my legs around his waist and my arms around his shoulders.
“April’s done lunch. She’s making a fuss, and I have to pretend I’m grateful. I’d ask you to come, but—”
What? “No, no, I get it.” I shake my head vehemently. I wouldn’t have met his father if I’d had a choice—pleasant man. His sister? That requires preparation. Women don’t exactly warm to me anymore, and I’m not entirely sure how to fix that. “Besides, it’s a bit early.”
“Is it?”
I recoil, my mind emptying as Dec gazes down at me. “You don’t think it is?”
“Well, I think that things got quite serious last night.”
I don’t know if he’s talking about the pile of confessions I dumped on him of the love thing. “I’m not sure I’m ready for that kind of scrutiny,” I admit, thinking honesty is the best policy.
“Why would you feel scrutinised?”
“She’s your older sister. That’s what they do. Like if I had an older brother.”
“Ummm, you do have an older brother, Camryn.”
“Not one that likes me.”
“Oh my God,” he breathes, exasperated. “Look, I’m not asking you to come today.
It would send April into a tailspin, anyway.
She’s one of these women who has to have everything perfect.
An extra guest would throw out her ratios on food per person.
” He rolls his eyes when I laugh. “But I want you to meet the people I love.”
“You have more siblings?”
“No, just April. And her husband, Blaine.”
“Oh.”
He slams a kiss on my mouth and stands. “I’ll take you home.”
“You or Ron?”
“Me. Ron doesn’t work weekends. Neither does Lynette.”
I watch him strut away, pulling his sweatpants down as he goes. Disappointment slides through me, and I pout, just getting a peek of his yummy backside before I lose him to the bathroom.
Snowflakes gently float down around us as we stand side by side outside my building looking at Mr. Percival’s turkey.
“I suppose I could put it in my freezer,” I say, as Dec crouches and pokes at the tarpaulin now covering the wire netting, the rocks pinning it down perfectly in place.
“If it’ll fit.” I tilt my head, mentally measuring it.
“I mean, it’s a monster, and I saw his freezer.
It’s rammed full of various Christmas treats he’s been preparing. He must be feeding five thousand.”
Dec rises, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Weird old man.”
“He’s nearly one hundred, so he can be anything he wants to be.” I push the door open slowly and gently and creep over the threshold.