Chapter 21
Sam and Kate are in a full-blown embrace, eating each other alive by the doors. Jesus Christ. “Get a room, you two,” I call, disturbing them.
Sam turns a cunning smirk my way, and Kate—it’s ridiculous—gets all flustered. “We were just about to, actually,” he says, adjusting his groin area.
“What?”
“Is Ava here?” Kate asks, looking slightly apprehensive.
“Yeah, she’s here.” And she’s going to flip her lid when she sees you, Kate.
“Great,” she quips, looking up at Sam. He smiles his reassurance and circles his arm around her waist, walking her toward me.
“So,” I say, waving a hand between them. “You two are...” Exclusive? Dating? Fucking? What?
Sam’s grin widens, and Kate presses her lips together. Oh God, Ava’s going to freak the fuck out.
I pick up my feet quickly to make it to Ava before they do. She’s still at the bar when I get there, smiling. “Just remember,” I say, glancing over my shoulder, “none of our business.”
She looks confused. To be expected, I suppose. “What? What are you talking about?”
I cringe, hearing Sam’s laugh behind me. Here we go. I don’t know if she’ll be shocked because Kate’s not with Dan or if she’s here with Sam. Obviously not for a regular date per se.
I know the second Ava’s clocked them because her face falls. “What the hell?” She hops off her stool.
And I put her straight back on again.
“Ava.” She’s shocked. Emotional. Might have endless questions about her brother, among other things. But I’ll have to hold her back for now.
For a moment I’m worried she’s heard my thoughts because she glares at me in disbelief. “Who else have you told?”
Told about what? “I—” Oh. I flip a filthy look around the bar to whoever’s opened their big mouth. Could be anyone, really. “A few.”
“You’ve told everyone, haven’t you?”
Pretty much. “I might have.”
“Jesse,” she sighs.
I jut out my lip, hoping she’ll go easy on me. “Can we visit my in-laws this weekend?” I suppose they ought to know too.
“Well, yes.” Ava laughs. She’s finding me quite amusing today. Better than annoying. “We’d better before news travels and makes it to Cornwall before we do.”
Look at her being all willing. We’re both flexing. “You make me a very happy man, Mrs. Ward.” I crowd her with my body and my mouth.
“That’s because I’m letting you trample all over me at the moment.”
“No, it’s because you’re beautiful, spirited, and all mine.” I leave out stubborn, unreasonable, and possessive. I’m done arguing for the day.
Sam splits us up and takes Ava in, up and down. “I can tell,” he says, and I suppress a cough, praying for him. “You’ve got that healthy glow about you.”
“That’s funny,” Ava replies, removing herself from Sam’s grasp and finding Kate. “Because I mostly feel like shit.”
For the love of God.“Mouth, Ava.” Especially now. I don’t want our child hearing such terrible language. I frown as Ava claims Kate and leads her to a quiet corner, probably to wring her for information. Not gonna lie, I’m quite curious myself. I turn to Sam. “What gives?”
“Yes, I want to hear this too.” Drew muscles in. Where the fuck did he come from? I look him up and down. “What?” he asks, smoothing a hand through his hair. “What are you looking at?”
“You have a hair out of place.”
“Fuck off.” He goes back to Sam. “What gives?”
“A fiery redhead gives?—”
“Good head.” Drew says.
I cough over my water, and Sam nearly knocks his teeth out when his beer bottle hits them. “Not cool, Drew,” I say, ready to hold Sam back.
“I’m messing.” His hands come up. “Sorry, habit.”
“Well, break the fucking habit,” Sam hisses. “Or I’ll break your fucking legs.”
Drew presses his lips together, hiding his knowing smile. He’s thinking what I’m thinking. Sam’s falling. Or he’s already hit the deck. “We’re exclusive,” Sam says.
“Like exclusive, exclusive?”
The poor, clueless twat frowns. “There’s more than one kind of exclusive?”
The laugh that erupts from Drew is rare and infectious. “You prick.”
“What?” Sam asks, looking a bit worried.
“Exclusive is exclusive,” I clarify. “That’s it.”
“Oh. Good.”
“So what the fuck are you doing here?” I ask.
“We can be exclusive here too, can’t we?”
“Sure. You can be whatever you want to be. Just make sure it’s clear to other members.” I look at Drew, and he points to himself, like... what, me?
“Yes, you,” I clarify for the sake of it.
“I like Kate, but?—”
“But?” Sam asks, offended. “What’s wrong with her?”
“Nothing’s wrong with her.” Drew chuckles. “She’s just not my type.”
Both Sam and I turn our full bodies into Drew and tilt our heads.
“I told you.” He laughs. “Gagged and heartless.” He looks past us to Natasha and the rest of the table. “I need some food and a fuck. And what the fuck’s wrong with your wife?” Drew points to the corner where Ava dragged Kate. “She looks like she’s been released from the Funny Farm.”
He’s right. Ava’s slumped back in her chair, holding her belly, howling at the ceiling. Kate’s grinning at her. Intrigued, I go over, but not before I capture a picture of my wife belly laughing. “Something funny?” I ask.
“No, nothing.” Ava snorts, wipes her nose, snorts again, her body jigging up and down on random short bursts of laughter.
“Here’s your dinner.”
“Oh, I’m starving.” She’s virtually salivating as Pete places her steak down. It’s a familiar look, except... well, I’m usually the steak. “Medium?” she asks before gobbling down a potato.
I look at Pete out the corner of my eye, eyebrows high. “Just to your liking, Ava,” he says with the stupidest, toothy smile. I take my plate from his other hand. “Can I get you anything else, sir?”
“No, thanks, Pete.”
“I’ll leave you to eat,” Kate’s says, standing.
Ava points at Kate with her knife, the blade catching one of the spotlights above and blinding me.
I quickly lean back.
Feel something sink into my gut.
Pain.
I look down at the wooden handle hanging out of my stomach. What the fuck has she done?
“Do you want me dead, Lauren?” I ask, grabbing on to air urgently. But breathing hurts, the rise and fall of my chest making the pain flare. Blood pisses all over the couch. “Because you’re too late.”
The fuck?
My hand darts out, seizing Ava’s wrist, pushing the knife down to the table. “Don’t wave your knife around, Ava.”
“Sorry,” she says, almost in confusion. Like I’m overreacting.
“I’m sorry,” Lauren blurts, her hands in her hair, the panic in her deranged eyes real. “Oh God, I’m sorry. I don’t want you to die.”
“Then why the fuck did you stab me?”
“I need you to love me,” she screams. “Why can’t you love me?”
I shakemy head clear and take a second, looking around me. Where I am. Who I’m with. My stomach. It twinges. I wince, resting a hand on my scar over my shirt, frustrated that Lauren keeps slipping into my present and knocking me off-kilter. Fuck off.
“Good?” I ask Ava, picking at my own plate, suddenly not so hungry.
You have to eat, bro. Something other than peanut butter.
My appetite has vanished, and I’m thankful when the boys join us, the conversation nice and easy, although Ava’s too busy smashing her way through the steak to partake. And what’s with Kate’s permanent grin? I shake my head, bewildered, returning to my salad, picking at a few leaves. But then Ava starts coughing, her face turning bright red, her eyes watery. She’s choking?
I jump up, hitting her back, probably harder than I should. “Fucking hell, woman.” I check her face. Still red. And then she’s gasps, deflating, and I deflate with her. “Slow down,” I say, my heart going ten to the dozen. “It’s not going to walk off your plate.” I made sure of that.
She heaves and wheezes, hand on her chest. “I’m okay.” She chuckles a little, like this is funny? “Went down the wrong way.”
Don’t tell me I’ll have to actually feed her, as well as make wise food choices for her. “Here.” I confiscate her cutlery and give her some water. “Drink.”
“Thank you,” she breathes, supping it back urgently. And then her cheeks balloon, a little dribbles from the corner, and I stand back, seeing what’s coming. Water shoots far and wide, mostly all over the boys, who bolt up, while Kate remains on her arse, laughing it off.
“Fucking hell, Ava.” I dab at her face, the table. “What the hell is wrong with you?” Has someone given her some laughing gas?
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She chuckles, and finally, after a few more moments of jerking and snorting, settles down.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m sorry,” she says again. “I don’t know what’s”—laugh—“wrong with me.”
My eyes follow her hand as it collects her knife and fork and she starts calmly working her way through the rest of her dinner, oblivious to the concern around the table. At least from me and the boys. Kate’s still fucking grinning. I cock my head at her. She shrugs.
“Is this what pregnancy does to women?” Sam asks, amused.
“It’s better than mood swings,” Kate adds.
I snort. Fear not, Kate, we have those too.
“Yeah, let me know when they start,” Drew says. “I can handle being spat at, but I’m not up for a tongue-lashing.”
Ava coughs again, and I’m about to go all Heimlich on her, but she pulls in a breath and continues calmly with her dinner until the plate is spotless.
“I take it you’re done?”
She hums her satisfaction, sated, and collapses back. “That was heaven.”
“Yeah, we can see.” Drew looks at me in astonishment. I’m with him. I’ve never seen her tuck food away so ravenously. His phone rings on the table, and he swipes it up swiftly, making everyone at the table pause and look at him. “Sales call,” he mutters, hitting the screen to reject the call before getting up and wandering across the bar toward Natasha.
“Say your goodbyes, lady,” I order. It’s been a long-arse day and I’ve shared her enough. “It’s getting late.” I give Sam a telling look that he completely ignores as Ava kisses each of them in farewell.
“Gathered yourself together now, Mrs. Ward?” I ask as I walk her out, amused.
“You knew, didn’t you?” She peeks up at me, her cheeks still flushed from her laughing fit. Or could be our Compromise Fuck. Or a combination of both.
Knew? “About what?”
“About Kate, Sam, and Drew.”
Oh, fuck me.Kate’s told her? Is that what had her laughing hysterically and nearly choking on her dinner? “Is that what you were laughing about? She told you?”
“Yes. Why didn’t you tell me?”
I laugh on the inside. “And give you something else to get your knickers in a twist over?”
“I wouldn’t have,” she says, indignant. We both know that’s a load of crap. “Shall I take my giant snowball?”
I roll my eyes. “No, you’re coming with me.” I get her in, buckle her up, and get behind the wheel.
As I cruise down the driveway, I notice her hand on her stomach. Protectiveness. She’s doing it without thinking. Instinct. I know she didn’t plan for this. I know she doesn’t need an enhanced control freak. But as I’ve told her so many times now that I have her in my life, I need a certain amount of control. Crave it. Feel stable with it.
I just wish she knew the true reasons behind my quirks.
But the problem remains . . .
I don’t want her to doubt me as a husband.
Or a father.