Chapter 33
Emma
I’ve been spending more time at Jude’s house, as there’s no point in going home to come all the way back into town to get the boys.
Jude cooks for me, and the sight of him in shirt sleeves, a dish cloth thrown over his shoulder…
It’s the biggest turn on. Along with the divine smell of my dinner cooking, of course.
This evening he answers the door in an apron only.
“Is that a spatula in your apron, or are you just pleased to see me?”
It’s the only line I could actually think of. I stare at a protruding implement, making the biggest tent in the flimsy apron. Before I can get any other words out, he’s unbuttoning my dress. We haven’t even gotten out of the lobby area.
“It isn’t a spatula,” he growls. “That has been busy making your dinner. But my cock has been waiting for you to come home, my love.” He drops into a chair in the kitchen and pulls me on top of him. “I’m shattered from cooking your dinner. Time for you to do the work.”
Popping my tits out of the dark green satin plunge bra, he then proceeds to shred my matching knickers. “More lingerie shopping for me. What a shame. It’s a hard job, but someone gots to do it,” he pants out, his body telegraphing his desire for me.
He pushes me to places I didn’t know existed. My want for him is all-consuming. And I’ve shattered twice before he says he smells something burning, slaps my arse, and points me towards the bedroom, where I disappear to get showered and dressed again.
We spend an intimate evening talking about our day, my children.
He regales me with stories about his daily family phone calls.
His sister was supposed to be coming home, but has been delayed due to her husbands needing to stay in LA.
He thought they wouldn’t be long before they were back, was expecting them imminently, and is definitely sad about the delay.
I’m feeling a little concerned about meeting them.
His brothers-in-law are rockstars. His nephews are pop stars.
His sister seems to control the lot of them.
What sort of a formidable woman would you need to be to do that?
It also turns out she owns a huge building company.
I’ve obviously heard of it, but had not put two and two together.
Jude has always referred to her as Evie Greystone, or Kitten!
I knew of her as Evie Barclay Russell, but had never met her.
Prior to very recently, a man had been named as the CEO of Rookwood properties and Rookwood International.
Obviously they had kept her name out of a lot of things, but it just heightens my inferiority complex.
Running a family of celebrities as well as a business—she must be one superwoman.
I’m seriously daunted at the prospect of meeting her.
As we head through June towards July, and the close of the school year, cricket has taken over our lives. Just as it does every summer. Practice and matches are a regular event. Jude has attended them all. Especially the matches. Nigel has glared from afar, and stuck the knife in whenever he could.
On the last week of school, we learn that Cal has convinced his grandpa he needs to go to the same school as my boys, and Sir Philip Langford has agreed.
The cricket was too good for him to pass up.
As predicted, Nigel has gone ballistic, saying he couldn’t go.
But when he can give no rational reason, and Cal has broken ranks and cried on his grandpa’s lap, pressure is heaped on Nigel until he gives in.
But he blames me, and he blames Jude. It’s another nail in our coffin—one already full of holes from the ones before.
But I don’t care, I don’t even speak to him. Notes and messages are passed via the boys. The fact that the boys now all go to school together is a big help. They’ve become even closer. The problem is, Cal has gotten closer to Jude as well. And Nigel hates it.
Cal has said he’s been banned from saying Jude’s name at home. And whilst Nigel never told my three they couldn’t mention him, Noah said no one ever does. It’s not worth the stress.
Jude has been talking about us all going to his brother's wedding. I’ve put off answering him for a while, but he’s started on again about it. Pushing for an answer.
“Suits need to be bought, it’s a huge event. Jonno is marrying Ireland’s high society. God help them. Do you think you can make it? We could do a tour of Ireland. Or fly to America from there. If you clear customs in Dublin, you don’t have to clear them in the US. It’s so much easier.”
I’m worrying at my lip. I don’t have the money for a holiday. All the school fees have eaten into my savings. And although I’m signing up quite a few businesses as fast as I’m bringing them in, older ones have been going out the door.
And all to Prestige.
Nigel has definitely decided if he can’t get to me via the kids, he will through my work.
Since the ice cream parlour, they’ve been blatantly targeting my clients.
Mailshots, flyers, email. Direct marketing.
I’ve been shown them all, but don’t know what to do.
It’s not illegal for them to do that… just not ethical.
I’ve decided to come clean about my savings.
“I don’t have the money, Jude. Mum, Dad, and my savings are covering the school fees.
I can pay for them, but it’s tough.” I’m trying to sound positive, because the boys love it there.
But my savings are going down at a rate of knots.
It’s a constant worry. “Noah brought home leaflets for school trips to Dubai! Sports tour. I’m not sure if I can afford it. ”
Tears are welling in my eyes. I don’t want Jude to feel sorry for me. I just feel useless about not being able to send Noah with all the other kids.
“Look, the wedding and trip will be my treat,” Jude starts to say.
“No, you pay for enough. All the meals out, all the cricket stuff. I know you paid for it. I heard my dad telling Mum. They’re not even your kids.”
He stops still at that. And I could eat my fist. But it is true, and Nigel has been on the phone saying the same things for the last two days. He’s like an unwanted earworm.
“I’d like them to be my kids. I’d like us to be more official. Move in together. I don’t mind where, but I have to say I think here would be better. It’s more convenient for school and work.” His soft voice is too rational for my irrational brain.
“I can’t move out of my home.” I hit straight back, no thought involved at all. “The kids love it there, all their friends are there. I won’t move.” I know I’m coming across as harsh, aggressive even, but I need him to understand how important this is to me.
But he’s also intent on getting his point across. “Can we make it official and I move in?” He’s watching my face, my expressions, looking for what I’m not saying while listening to what I am.
“You live there anyway most of the time.” Gah, I sound so antagonistic.
It almost sounds as if I don’t want him there.
But I do…don’t I? “Do we have to announce it, or just carry on? The kids expect you home each night. To be honest, most nights you’re the one bringing them home. What would we do to make it official?”
His face clouds over. He’s backing off. I know my tone is…not good. In fact, it’s downright confrontational. But I am stressed to death. The week has been a nightmare, and I really don’t want to have to make any big decisions tonight.
“Nothing, forget I said anything. I would like you to come to the wedding, and we can come straight home again. But I will cover the costs.” He changes tact and comes for me.
Pulling me into his body. His scent instantly calms me down.
“Don’t worry about it this weekend. Let’s wait for the boys to come here.
Noah’s walking them home from school to here.
We can eat and then all go home. It’s no big deal.
I want to be wherever you and the kids are. ”
He kisses me gently and I melt into him. What the hell am I doing having a go at the man who is trying to help me, not steal my business and put us in the poor house.
“Uncle Jude.” The door slams open, and a loud voice shouts through the house. A man's voice.
“Uncle Jude.” Another one sounds, and the kitchen door is slammed off its hinges. “Put the kettle on.” This voice is lower, and I spin my head around and take in the two young, incredibly good-looking men in front of me.
“Ooohh, sorry to barge in,” says the cheekier looking of the two.
They don’t look sorry at all. And grin at us both.
I can feel the joy pouring from Jude as he turns to me and says, “Emma, these two reprobates are my nephews. James Greystone”—the second guy through the door lowers his head—“and Bucky Buckley.
" The cheeky one. He turns his full attention on his nephews and snaps, “What the fuck are you two doing here?”
I gasp at the greeting, but they just grin wider, moving towards us.
“Excuse us, we just need to hug and kiss this man.” James pulls Jude out of my arms and into his.
“Missed you. Is this why we’ve not seen you for two months?
We’ve lost weight. No biscuits, no food.
I’m starving to death.” James hugs and kisses Jude like they haven’t seen each other in years, not months.
“Me too, Uncle Jude. Look how much weight I’ve lost.” The other young man lifts his T-shirt to show off a set of incredible abs. He pulls his jeans away from his tanned skin. “Skinny as a rail.”
“Bucky, you’ve just eaten McDonald’s on the way over. Don’t come it.” They start to banter, passing Jude between them for more hugs.
“Emma, it’s nice to finally meet you. Jude hasn’t shut up about you,” James tells me, coming in for a hug. I’m surprised to be swept up into a bear hug. I’ve never had people go full throttle on you at first meeting. They’re so open, so friendly.