This Woman Forever

Chapter 25

I don’t know what to do, how to act. Strong? Broken? Sad? The latter two are easy. But being strong? I’ve never faced grief with strength. I’ve hidden. Fucked. Drank. But now... now I have to be different.

I carried her to a private room because physical strength is something I could offer. I remained quiet while they checked Ava’s obs. I lost myself in my palms a few times when the tears were at risk of escaping. I feel useless, propped in a chair, trying to comfort Ava while fighting to hold myself together.

Vodka.

The thought jars me.

The nurse lays a gown on the bed, says something—I don’t know what—and leaves. It takes Ava to stand and start undressing for me to realize something is happening. She’s changing? I watch her, see her slow, lethargic movements, not because she’s in actual pain, but because she’s in fucking agony mentally.

I have to hold her up in both senses. I can be strong. Emotionally and physically. Because that’s what she needs from me right now. And because it isn’t just about me anymore. I have Ava.

I get up to help, to feel useful. “I can manage.” She doesn’t look at me.

“You probably can, but it’s my job and I’d like to keep it.”

Her whole body shrinks, her chin trembling. “Thank you,” she croaks as I remove her dress. Her chin drops to her chest, her eyes low. She doesn’t want to look at me. Or can’t.

I dip and nuzzle into her, forcing her face up. “Don’t thank me for looking after you, Ava,” I warn softly. “It’s what I’ve been put on this earth to do. It’s what keeps me here. Don’t ever thank me for that.”

“I’ve ruined everything,” she whispers. “I’ve lost your dream.”

My dream? Is it tragic that I feel like giving up on dreams? If you don’t find your dreams, they can’t be lost. If you have no faith, it can’t be destroyed.

I sit her down on the bed and kneel in front of her, my hands clenching hers. “My dream is you, Ava. Day and night, just you. I can manage without anything, but never you. Not ever.” Manage? Can I? Because my track record isn’t exactly shining. This is a cruel blow. I’m not sure how either of us will navigate this or get over it, but Ava needs to know that she is my priority. “Don’t look like this, please.” So broken and heavy with guilt. So... hopeless. “Don’t look like you think it’s the end. It’s never the end for us. Nothing will break us, Ava. Do you understand me?”

Her breath catches at the back of her throat, making her jerk as I caress her cheek, my tear-filled eyes staring into hers. I can understand her fear though. I stormed off, unsure I could ever forgive her, and yet now I’m professing my undying devotion. But it’s true. I could never not love this woman.“We let these people tell us you’re going to be okay, and then we go home to be together.”

She nods jerkily, dislodging more tears.

“Tell me you love me,” I order, desperate to bring something familiar and comforting to this whole horror scene.

“I need you,” she sobs, hauling me into her and cuddling me hard.

She feels so fragile and weak in my arms. “I need you too.” And I need her to let me look after her. “Let me get you into this gown.”

The silence falls, but it’s an oddly easy silence, yet at the same time, a really fucking hard one. I wipe the insides of her thighs with a cloth and slowly get her into the gown, letting the nurse know when we’re ready. Even if we’re not.

She enters, that sympathetic smile still on her face, and a doctor follows her in. I try so hard to stop it, but my body tightens, dread for what’s to come gripping me. He nods at me as he sits on the side of the bed. “How are you feeling, Ava?”

What a stupid fucking question.

“Fine.”

And an even stupider answer.

“I’m okay,” she says again, sensing my despair, finding another word for fine. “Thank you.”

“Okay.” He looks across her gown-covered body. “No aches or pains, cuts or bruises?”

“No.” She shakes her head, her hands fiddling wildly. “Nothing.”

He reaches for the sheets and eases them down to below her stomach, and I shift in my chair, uncomfortable, bracing myself for the tragic news. “Let’s see what’s going on. Would you like to pull the gown up so I can feel your tummy?”

I can’t sit here and watch this stranger poke and prod at my wife, all with the sole purpose of telling us we’ve lost something so fucking precious. Always losing. This is painful enough. I feel Ava studying me, pensive, and all I can do is wonder how I make this better. I can’t even force a weak smile to try and reassure her. Fuck, I need some air. My lungs are burning with the effort to simply breathe. Loser. “I might step outside.” I feel like a ticking time bomb.

“Don’t you dare,” Ava blurts, stopping my backward steps to the door. “Don’t you dare leave me.” Her jaw is between quivering and tightening, her eyes steely but watery.

She needs me.

Fuck. It’s a lightning-bolt moment. I always wish for her vulnerability to shine through. But not like this. I pick up my feet and go to her, sitting and holding her hands with both of mine, my gaze low, my mind trying to block out the sounds of the doctor working.

“This will be a little chilly,” he says.

And a lot fucking painful. I laugh sardonically on the inside. I should be fucking used to it. Immune to it. But no. The universe wants to carry on fucking me over. And because I’m now married to this young, bright beauty, she will be fucked over too.

I breathe in.

Breathe out.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

In.

Out.

I hear clicks, turns, whooshes, my breathing, Ava’s breathing. I notice her staring at the ceiling, her face painfully expressionless. My head drops heavily again, my hands squeezing tighter around hers. Time stands still for a while, my hearing heightened, the clock hands ticking in between the machinery and the thumps of my heartbeats. I blink my dry eyes, head still low, still clinging to her. Keeping me grounded.

I need a drink.

Vod—

“Everything is okay, Ava,” the doctor says.

I frown, not daring to look up, scared I’m hearing things. It wouldn’t be the first time. Hearing things, seeing things. Ava murmurs her confusion. I hear the doctor tell us light bleeding isn’t unusual during the early stages.

Everything is okay? My wife and my baby are okay? I blink, feeling the tickle of a tear rolling down my cheek. Is this a dream?

Ava sucks in air sharply, and I realize it’s a sound of pain. Then I realize I’m the one causing her pain, squeezing her hand to death. I quickly relax and look up in a state of utter shock. Our baby is okay.

She’s not been taken.

Ava doesn’t look all too present either. What the fuck is going on?

And is one of us going to ask for confirmation? Did Ava hear what was just said? My mouth opens and shuts. Ava’s mouth opens and shuts.

I stand, but my legs wobble, so I sit back down. Then get straight back up. “Ava’s still pregnant?” I murmur, staring at the doctor, watching his face so very closely, trying to read every slight move in his expression. He’s smiling. That has to be a good thing. No doctor would smile if the situation was dire. “She’s... she’s...” I can’t string a fucking sentence together. “There’s... we’re...” What am I trying to say?

“Yes.” The doctor chuckles. That was definitely a chuckle. Smiling, chuckling. He’s happy. But what am I feeling? Dazed. “Ava is still pregnant, Mr. Ward,” he says cheerfully as he works on the machine. “Sit down, I’ll show you.”

Sit down? How do I sit down? I quickly check Ava’s still on the bed. Because where else would she be? “I’ll stand, if you don’t mind,” I mumble, my eyes on the screen, the mass of black fuzz and white blobs a total mess. “I need to feel my legs.” I study the pulsing images, the dusty dots. “I don’t see anything.”

“There, look.” The doctor points to the center to what looks like a really long, really dark tunnel. “Two perfect heartbeats.”

Say what now? “My baby has two hearts?” Am I an absolute moron? Jake makes his presence known and starts laughing hysterically, and I scowl at the sarcastic fucker. Is this a joke? Two heartbeats? Two as in... one more than one heartbeat? One plus one equals two?

Two?

Two heartbeats equal two babies, and two babies equals twins.

What the ever-loving fuck?

“No, Mr. Ward.” The doctor chuckles again. Anyone would think something amusing is going down. “Each of your babies has one heart, and both are beating just fine.”

Stunned, my legs move without me telling them to, and I collide with something. I hope it’s a chair because my knees have just given way and I’m freefalling. I grunt when my arse hits the seat. Now, I know I have been hearing things lately. Seeing things. Questioning... everything. So, just to be sure, for the avoidance of doubt, to absolutely eliminate any confusion... “I’m sorry, say that again,” I order quietly.

“Mr. Ward,” he says assertively. “Let me put this into plain English, if it will help.”

“Please.” It would help a great deal.

“Your wife is expecting twins.”

“Oh fuck.” Twins. “I had a feeling you were going to say that.” Is this the universe telling me to start opening my mouth on a few things?

Yes, you fucker. Tell her about me.

“Watch your damn mouth,” I breathe, looking at Ava, wondering what she’s thinking. By her face, she’s not thinking at all. She looks spaced out. “Baby?—”

“About six weeks, I would say,” the doctor muses.

Six weeks?I start mentally counting back through time. My God, all this time? All this fucking time I’ve been stressing, wondering if I’m broken, she’s been pregnant? With fucking twins? And drinking. She’s been drinking. My teeth grit.

“I’m sorry, that can’t be right,” Ava says as I watch her look between the screen and the doctor. “I’ve had a period within that time and was on the pill previous to that.”

Yes, she had a period. Didn’t she? When? My head feels like it could pop. “You had a period?” the doctor asks, getting a very sure, assertive, yes, from Ava. “That’s not unusual. Let me do some measurements.”

Measurements?

Yes, right. Measure the babies.

Plural.

Twins? How the fuck did this happen?

Need me to walk you through that, bro?

Ava’s now lying back, eyes closed as the doctor does his thing. She’s completely relaxed. I can feel her energy, and I honestly don’t know what to make of it. She’s not freaking out, which is ironic, because here’s me freaking the fuck out.

I didn’t bargain for this when I stole her pills.

Is this what they call karma?

I look between the screen and Ava, watching as she stares, rapt by the squirming blobs. And Jake continues to laugh his dead head off in heaven. This seesaw of emotions is too much. I started my day on cloud nine. Passion for breakfast, fury for brunch, terror for lunch, despair for dinner, and now complete and utter wonder for supper.

Twins?

You better be talking about me by the end of the day, brother, or I’ll never talk to you again.

I huff. “Don’t tempt me.”

“Mr. Ward?”

“What?” I blurt, jarred from my moment. The doctor’s smiling at me. Ava is half-smiling, half fascinated.

“Your babies.” He holds a scrap of paper across the bed.

I accept on a mumbled thank you and stare down at the black and white image, hearing the doctor talking to Ava, but what he’s saying I don’t know. I’m... mesmerized. I tilt my head one way, then the other, studying the image.

“Are you ready?”

“What?” I murmur, eyes on the picture.

“Are you ready?”

We can go home? “Sure.” I stand. How big should they be at six weeks? Big enough to see, I’m sure. I look at Ava. She’s dressing. Her stomach is definitely a little rounder. Isn’t it any wonder? Twins.

How many times have you got to say it before you believe it?

I don’t think I will until they’re actually here. What will we have? Two boys? Two girls? One of each?

“Let’s go.”

“What?” I tear my eyes from the picture and find Ava. She’s smiling. She’s happy. I’m unable to appreciate that in this moment.

“Thank you, Doctor,” she says, taking my arm.

“Thank you, Doctor,” I mimic, letting her lead me from the room.

The next thing I know, I’m outside in the fresh air and John is staring at me. I turn around and look at the hospital exit. She’s been discharged. Because everything is all right.

“You okay?” he asks, pulling my attention back his way.

“What?” I reply.

He looks at Ava. She’s still smiling.

“What’s going on?” he asks.

“We just had some news,” Ava goes on. We did? What news? What did I miss? “I’m expecting twins.”

“What?” I blurt, and she laughs.

And John? He looks momentarily dazed. Then he explodes with laughter, joining my irritating twin brother. It’s the kind of laugh on the big man that comes once in a blue moon. Today, apparently, is a blue moon. “Let’s get you home.” He chuckles over his words and opens the back door to his Range Rover.

I climb in and stare at the picture the whole way home while Ava rides up front with John. I vaguely hear them chatting. How lovely. Why the hell isn’t she flipping her lid? She was mad enough when I trapped her with one baby. Delighted now because it’s two? Six weeks.

I blink and look at the door when it opens.

We’re home? I remember none of the journey. I heard none of the conversation. Ava looks at me, eternally amused, apparently, and reaches in to the car. I follow her hand to the clip of my seatbelt, releasing it. I slip out and Ava links arms with me. I look up and around.

“I’ll call you,” she says.

“Call who?” I ask.

“Me.”

I look back and see John getting back in his Range Rover. “Oh, hey,” I say. He shakes his head.

“We should talk when you’re ready.” He suddenly looks stressed. Why is he?—

Oh fuck.

It all comes flooding back. My car. The accident. Multiple cars hit. Someone tried to hurt Ava. “Yeah,” I murmur, checking her up and down. She’s okay. We’re all okay.

I let Ava walk me on, my eyes down again, studying the picture. All four of us are okay. Is it those two blurry blobs to the left of the tunnel? If I squint, they’re a little clearer. Like peas.

“Sit.”

“What?” I look up and see we’re in our kitchen. A stool is in front of me. Dazed, I drop onto it and place the picture on the marble. I’ve seen one of these before. A scan picture. Except when my ex-wife had her first scan, she was over twelve weeks pregnant. And I could see Rosie as clear as I could see Lauren’s intentions. Vividly. This scan picture isn’t the same. And although I feel terrible for having such thoughts, I can’t stop myself from having them. When I looked at Rosie’s scan picture all those years ago, I felt cornered. Trapped. But when I look at this picture, I only feel an incredible sense of relief and freedom. I suddenly have three people to look after and protect. That’s more than a full-time job. Twins. That’s a full-time job for both of us. Fuck... me. They’re safe and warm, cooking in their mummy’s belly right now. But when they’re here? She’ll need me more than ever.

I feel something on my face—a hand—and it forces my eyes away from the picture. I frown when I see Ava has wet hair and has changed. She’s showered and put on those ridiculous pants I bought her in Camden. The ones I remember thinking would pass as maternity pants. And now they are. My God.

“Are you going to speak anytime soon?” she asks, searching my eyes.

Speak? “I can’t fucking breathe, Ava,” I whisper. I’m absolutely gobsmacked.

Her smile is small and unsure. “I’m shocked too.”

Shocked? She’s never known shock. Maybe. Perhaps. I don’t fucking know. I mean, I’ve delivered some corkers to this woman during our time together but, somehow, this just feels like a catalyst to a bigger picture that I one hundred percent know I don’t want my wife to see.

I look at her, this young, uncomplicated, normal woman, who is now married to a man that practically stalked her and got her knocked up in a weird and wonderful plan to keep her forever. With twins, no less.

You always did do things in style, bro.

I hope she’s ready for this. I also hope she remains upright, because I still can’t feel my arms and legs, so catching her might be a challenge.

I take in air. Brace myself.

Do it, do it, do it, Jake chants. The fucker. But I smile, knowing he’s enjoying this. Loving the notion that I am his entertainment.

And that he’s looking after my little girl for me.

And he’s right. Ava needs to know about him. She needs to understand my wonder and just how truly incredible this is. It was meant to be.

“I was a twin,” I whisper, eyes on hers.

She drops me like I’m diseased. It’s ironic. It stings. And she just stares at me, wide-eyed, her mouth hanging open in disbelief. She could throw a hissy fit. She could annihilate me for keeping this from her.

But she won’t.

“My spirited girl is speechless,” I whisper, slipping my hand around her neck. I’m out of my daze. I’m not over the shock, but I’m thinking clearly. This is the right moment, and I realize as I sit here preparing, not sharing Jake with Ava wasn’t only about my fear of where that conversation might lead and Ava doubting me as a good man. It was also about simply talking about him. It was about revisiting a time in my life that I’ve spent most of my life trying to blank out.

It’s the same with Lauren.

It’s the same with Rosie.

“Have a bath with me.” I stand and help her to her feet, and despite her clearly having showered already, she doesn’t object. “I need to be with you.” If I’m going to go there, I need to go there while I hold her in my arms. And the tub is our place.

I pick her up and carry her up to the bathroom, feeling her amazed eyes glued to my face as she seeks out my neck with her lips. It’s her way of telling me she’s not going anywhere. I need it.

I sit her by the sink and get the bath ready, running over where to begin. How to begin. I honestly don’t know, so I’ll let instinct lead. I start to strip her down as I kiss her, loading up with courage to talk about Jake. Her hands slip under my T-shirt, feeling me as her tongue rolls around mine. “Take it off. Please, take away everything between us.”

She rips my T-shirt up my torso, urgent, and yanks my jeans open, everything becoming clumsy and rushed. Not because either of us need to get to sex, but because we need to get to intimacy in another way. I kick my jeans off, pull Ava down to her feet, kneeling as I pull her pants and knickers down, faltering for a moment, swallowing, briefly revisiting the moment I realized she hadn’t cut herself.

The dread.

But we’re okay now.

We’re okay.

I rise, cast her knickers aside, and lift her to my body, looking up into her dark, alive eyes as she drops her mouth to mine, accommodating my silent demand. I step into the bath and lower to my knees, holding her under her ass. Her breath hitches, her boobs squishing to my chest. “Is the water okay?”

“Fine,” she says between our deep kisses.

“Always fine.”

“Always perfect if I have you.”

That felt like a message. “You have me.” I can’t get her despair out of my head. At the hospital, her withdrawal. She thought no baby meant no us. I break our kiss and find her eyes. Her bare skin glistens. Her eyes search mine. Strands of her wet hair stick to her cheeks. “You do know that, don’t you?” I ask.

“You married me, of course I know.”

I find her ring and remove it, feeling her watching, confused. “Do you think this signifies my love for you?” I ask.

“Yes,” she whispers, sounding like she’s missing something. Because she is. The ring is just a fucking ring. I’d be lying if I didn’t hope it served as a massive back the fuck off to any man. But still, it’s just a ring. “Then we should get these diamonds removed,” I whisper, “and have it re-encrusted with my heart.” I smile down at her hand as I slip it back onto her finger, sighing to myself. It feels like I’m on a lifelong mission to try and convey to this woman how I feel. I’m sure I’ll never succeed.

Her hand lies across my pec, and I consider the sparklers decorating her finger. Pretty. I’m not sure my heart would pack the same visual punch. “I like your heart exactly where it is,” she declares, bending her upper body so her lips can reach my chest. She kisses me softly, looking up at me. I raise my brows. “I like how it swells when you look at me.”

“Just for you, baby.” I pull her up and kiss her hard, feeling blood dripping into places I don’t want it to go right now. Not now. Now, I have to talk. “Let me bathe you.” I steal one more kiss of her neck and start moving her away from me before we both deviate from the plan. “Turn around for me.” Moving off my knees, I rest back against the tub and pull Ava to between my legs, getting us comfortable. She folds her body over and sighs, staring down into the water as I soak the sponge, squeezing it across her nape and watching the water run down her olive skin, over the kinks in her spine. Her silence is making me smile. I had expected a barrage of questions or impatience within a few seconds flat of declaring I was a twin. “Are you fine?” I ask.

“I’m okay.”

I smile and shift in closer. “I’m a little worried about my defiant little temptress,” I say into her ear, feeling her body light up.

“Why?”

“Because she’s too quiet when there’s information to be had.” I lower back, taking Ava with me.

“If you want to tell me, you will.”

How nonchalant she sounds. “I’m not sure I like what pregnancy is doing to my girl.” I rest my palms on her tummy, covering it completely. How I wish I could do that forever. Be big enough to physically shield them from everything. “First of all, she’s developed a phobia of my cock in her mouth.” She gasps subtly as I thrust myself up into her arse. “And secondly, she’s not blessing me with her forceful demands for intelligence.”

“My Lord isn’t blessing me with his wide range of expert fuckings, so we’re even, aren’t we?”

I let out a bark of laughter. “But she’s still blessing me with her filthy mouth.” I give her tickle spot a quick, warning squeeze and she jolts, sending water over the edge of the tub. And yet she still doesn’t hit me with any questions. What the fuck is going on? It’s easier to be questioned than to give a “talk.” Where are the questions? I frown at the back of her head, willing her on. She’s not going to ask—she’s going to make me talk with no prompts. She’s proving a point.

For fuck’s sake.“His name was Jake,” I say, my lips twisting as I wonder where to go next. Ava doesn’t help me out. I scowl at her back. “You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”

Silence.

God damn her.

“He idolized me,” I go on, scratching around in my brain. Have I even started at the right place? Fuck it. “He wanted to be me.” The stupid fucking idiot. “I’ll never understand it.” I knew this wouldn’t be easy, but this hard? I’m getting nothing back, no questions, no encouragement. Jake’s not even piping in to help me along, which I suppose I should be grateful for since my wife is naked in the bath with me. I turn Ava around, needing her eyes. “I can’t do this on my own, baby,” I whisper. “Help me.”

Her expression falls, and she comes closer, nuzzling into me. “Were you not alike?”

I laugh under my breath, relaxing. This is better. “We were the furthest away from alike you could get,” I say. “In looks and personality.”

“He wasn’t a god?”

My smile is wide as I stroke her wet back, my hands gliding up and down. “He was a genius.” And kind, calm, handsome, smart, and considerate.

“How is that far away from you?”

“Jake had his brain to get him by. I had my looks and I used them, as you well know.” I squint at the space above her head, holding her tighter. “Jake didn’t use his brain. If he did, he wouldn’t be dead.” I swallow, blink, trying to chase away the inevitable flashbacks, feeling Ava’s body stiffen against me. I can hear the question coming a mile off.

“How did he die?” she asks quietly, and everything about her tone and volume, along with her tense body, tells me she’s wary of asking. That she’s sensed something is... off.

“He got hit by a car.” I spit the words out fast before I can swallow them back down and choke on them.

“How would that be not using his brain?”

“Because he was pissed when he staggered into the road.”

Jake! Get out of the fucking road!

I wince, squeezing my eyes closed.

“Carmichael isn’t the only reason you don’t talk to your parents, is he?” she asks quietly.

“No.” This is it. “The fact that I’m responsible for my brother’s death is a major contributing factor. Carmichael and The Manor came after and kind of put the nail in the coffin.”

“Jake was their favorite?” she asks.

“Jake was everything they wanted from a son. I wasn’t. I tried to be. I studied, but it didn’t come as naturally to me as it did to Jake.” A bit like charming the knickers off women didn’t come naturally to him. I always think we weren’t alike in looks. It’s not really true, we were identical, but there’s something about how a man portrays themselves that affects their physical appearance. Jake wasn’t confident like me. He wasn’t cocky or rebellious.

He was perfect. Wholesomely handsome. A fucking brainbox.

“But he wanted to be like you?”

“He wanted the small piece of freedom I gained through being considered the one with the least potential. All of their attention was focused on Jake, the genius—the one they could be proud of. Jake would go to Oxford. Jake would make his first million before he was twenty-one. Jake would marry a well-bred English girl and breed well-spoken, polite, clever children. Except Jake didn’t want any of that. He wanted to choose the direction of his own life and the tragic thing is, he would’ve chosen well on his own.”

“So what happened?”

Fuck, am I really going there?

Don’t stop now.

“There was a house party,” I begin, my heart beating faster. “You know, full of drink, girls and... opportunities. We were coming up to our seventeenth, prepping for our finals, ready for the Oxford application. Of course, it was my idea.”

“What?”

“To go out and be teenagers, get away from the constant grind of studying, and to stop trying to live up to our parents’ expectations. I knew I’d pay for it, but I was prepared to face my parents’ wrath. We were going to have a few drinks together, like brothers. I wanted to spend some time with him, like normal kids. It was just one night. I never expected to pay so severely.” I tense all over when she moves. Looks at me with soulful, innocent eyes that have no comprehension of the guilt I’ve lived with.

“You got carried away?” she asks quietly.

“Me?” I ask. Of course she’d think that. “No.” God, how I wish it was me who stepped into the road. “I’d had a few, but Jake was throwing back shots like he’d never drink again. I virtually carried him out of that house. Then it all came out.” He didn’t say it, but I heard him. “How much he hated the suffocation, that he didn’t want to go to Oxford. We made a pact.” I see his face in my mind’s eye. The excitement. “We agreed to tell them together that we didn’t want to do it anymore. We wanted to make our own decisions based on our dreams, not based on what would impress the snotty fuckers who my mum and dad socialized with. He wanted to race motorbikes, but that was considered uncouth and common. Reckless.” Fuck, just talking about being reckless got Jake killed. Ironic. “I’d never seen him so happy at the thought of rebelling with me, doing what we wanted for once, not what we were told to do.” I study her, fascinated by the veil of irritation that sinks into her face. “And then he walked out into the road.”

“You can’t be held responsible,” she grates.

“I’m held responsible because I am responsible,” I reply, holding her achingly beautiful, angry face. She’s not angry at me. It’s sweet that she’d try to make me feel better. Wasted but sweet. “I shouldn’t have dragged Jake off the perfect path. The stupid idiot shouldn’t have listened to me.”

“It doesn’t sound like you dragged him anywhere.”

“He wouldn’t be dead, Ava,” I go on. “What if?—”

“No, Jesse,” she snaps, silencing me. “Don’t think like that. Life is full of what ifs. What if your parents hadn’t suffocated you?” She tilts her head. She wants an answer? “What if you stood up sooner and said enough?”

“What if I’d have played ball?” Did what I was told, tried harder in my studies. Jake would still be here.

“You would never have found me,” she whispers, her words tight. “And I would never have found you.”

I withdraw, taken aback by the raw emotion in her broken words and the stream of tears that roll down her cheeks. Shit. I can’t hold it against her that she’s said that. I’ve thought it myself numerous times, asked how it’s fair that to find love and peace, I had to lose it first. I let my eyes drop to her tummy. And as much as it hurts, she’s right. “Everything that’s happened in my life has led me to you, Ava,” I whisper, the agony in my words obvious. “It’s taken forever, but I’ve finally found where I belong.”

“With me and these two little people,” she says, holding my hand on her tummy.

And what would I have done if she hadn’t stumbled into my office? Where would I be? I pull her down to my chest, scanning her face, her eyes, her lips. “With you and those two little people. Our little people.”

She smiles, small but sad. “What about Amalie?”

“Amalie would marry well and be a good wife and mother, and I believe she might have fulfilled her obligation.” It’s happening this weekend in Seville. “It said Dr. David, didn’t it?”

“It did.”

“There you are, then.”

“And you started spending more time with Carmichael after Jake’s death?”

“I did. Carmichael knew the score. He’d been through it himself with my granddad. Are you comfy?”

“Yes, I’m fine.”

I smile. “It was a relief. I escaped the daily reminder that Jake wasn’t with me anymore, and I distracted myself with jobs that my uncle gave me around The Manor. Are you sure you’re comfy?”

“I’m bloody comfy,” she gasps, exasperated, pinching my nipple.

I chuckle. “She’s comfy.”

“She is. What jobs did you do?”

“Everything. I’d collect the glasses in the bar, mow the lawns. My dad went through the roof, but I didn’t let him stop me. Then they announced that we were moving to Spain.”

“And you refused to go.”

“Yes, I hadn’t ventured into the rooms of The Manor at that point. I was still a manor virgin, but on my eighteenth birthday, Carmichael let me loose in the bar. Worst thing he could’ve done. I slipped right in. It came naturally. Too naturally.” I look down when she moves, gazing up at me. She’s taking it all quite well. “If simply being at The Manor took my mind away from my troubles, then being drunk and having sex at The Manor eliminated them completely.”

“Escapism,” she says, and I nod. “What did Carmichael think about all of this?”

“He thought it was a phase, that it would pass.” Pain. “Then he went and died on me too.”

“And your parents tried to make you sell The Manor.” She whispers her words, hesitant, building the picture.

“Yeah,” I breathe, and for the first time in as long as I can remember, I see my father’s face. His fury when I calmly and confidently told him I wouldn’t. I remember so vividly how I felt in that moment too. Immovable. The Manor had quickly become a safe haven. The thought of losing that was... well, unthinkable. It was like losing Carmichael all over again. Jake too. Now, though? I inhale through that thought. Now, what? Would I feel differently? “They soon flew home from Spain at the news of my uncle’s death,” I say, robotic, my mind elsewhere. Like on a golf resort. “They found me, a younger version of the family black sheep, lording it up, drinking, and gorging on women.” Emancipation. “I’d experienced freedom without them trying to mold me into suitable son material.” No pressure. “I’d grown cocky and confident, and I was also extremely wealthy.” Approval. Fucking hell. “I told them where to shove their ultimatum. The Manor was Carmichael’s life, and then it became mine. End of.” But not the end, apparently. The Manor. It’s just a building. And yet so much more than bricks and mortar. And for the first time ever, now I’ve let my mind venture to potentially selling it, I consider what my parents were doing.

Trying to save me.

The thought comes from left field, shaking me. Jesus Christ. They were trying to save me. I shake my head, feeling a bit dazed and confused, and offer a small smile as Ava stares at me, taking it all in.

As I’m trying to take in my revelation too.

Her chest dips—a breath—and I breathe in too, waiting for what she will say as she braces herself. “Our children will be whoever they want to be.” She slides up my body and licks my chin, nibbling. “As long as they don’t want to be playboys.”

I laugh to myself, clawing my fingers into her soft, peachy arse. And there it is. They can be whoever they want to be. So long as it doesn’t involve The Manor. Isn’t that how my parents thought? Was that love or was that continued judgment? Rejection. Scorn. Because what would I do if my children wanted to become a version of me in my past? I’d try to stop them. “Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, lady,” I whisper, swallowing.

“I think it does.” Her breathy words in my ear sends bolts of pleasure directly into my dick, which is a welcome distraction from thoughts about my parents.

And I’m running with it. “You’re right, it does.” I push her up my body and pout at the bruise on her boob. “My mark is fading.”

“Freshen it up, then,” she teases. So I do as I’m bid—with pleasure—and suck her flesh into my mouth, smiling when she groans.

“Nice?”

“Hmmm.”

Yeah, really nice.My tongue traces the edge of her areola, flicks across the stiff peak. She tastes phenomenal. “Ava,” I mumble, feeling my dick begin to throb demandingly. Down boy. “I’m not sure how I feel about our babies taking to your breasts.” I peck her gently and let her slip back down my body. Epic mistake. The friction of her sliding over my groin sends blood surging unmercifully. “Oh no, we can’t. I won’t, Ava.” I try to get her off my lap, wary of the steely determination in her eyes. I’ll never be able to say no. “And don’t you dare kick into temptress mode, either.” Christ, she’s six weeks. I can’t even bring myself to recall all of the brutal fuckings she’s received in that time. But now especially, off the back of a car accident, there is no way I’m putting my dick in her. No.

“Cornwall,” she says simply, and I still. She didn’t just say that.

“You’re not going anywhere.” I leave her on her knees and stand. Look down at her. Fuck. Her eyes on my erection sparkle with want, her wet skin glistens. Hot. I need to get out of the tub. I engage my muscles and freeze when her dainty hand wraps around me, bolts of pleasure shooting through my wet body. “Fuck,” I hiss. “You little fucking tormenter.”

She strokes me, and my torso folds. “Are you going to walk away from me?” she whispers huskily.

“Ava, there’s not a fucking chance on this planet I’m taking you.”

“Sit down,” she orders, her eyes resting on the edge of the tub. Oh? Is this her version of the Compromise Fuck? I’m all onboard, but...

The tip of her tongue licks my dripping cock. Oh my God. “Ava,” I grate, my hips shaking from trying to keep them from thrusting into her mouth. “If you leave me hanging to throw up, I’ll lose my fucking mind.”

“I won’t.” She takes me slow and deep, looking up at me with round, excited eyes, encouraging me to sit on the edge of the tub, putting herself between my open thighs. She won’t? I’m not so sure about that. I think it could send me to loony-land if she does.

She moves forward to take me, but I stop her, holding the tops of her arms and she peeks up at me in confusion. “If I’m sitting on this side, you’re sitting on the other.” I kiss her hard, catching her by surprise. I’m keeping the power, baby. “With your legs wide open.”

Her inhale is endearing. Did she really think I’d sacrifice control? I lift her back to her feet and watch as she puts herself opposite me, my appreciative gaze taking in every inch of her perfect body as mine tingles, until I arrive at her eyes.

“Lick your fingers, Ava.”

She obeys.

Slowly.

It’s sexy as fuck. “Slide your hand down your front. Slowly.”

Her mouth open, her eyes drowsy, she deliberately and leisurely slips her hand across her boobs and onto her stomach. “Slow enough for you?”

“Did I say talk?”

Her scowl is light, matching her intake of breath, as her touch moves farther down.

“Stop.” I swallow, my eyes moving to between her thighs. “One finger, baby. Slowly slide one finger in.” I watch closely as she follows my orders, her body responding beautifully. “Remember, that’s mine.” I look up. “So be gentle with it.”

She exhales, visibly trying to keep control, her eyes closing.

“Eyes, Ava,” I order, making them spring open. “Good girl.” I circle myself. Inhale. “Taste.”

She makes a meal of slipping her fingers into her mouth, moaning, sucking as I watch.

“Good?” I ask, starting to stroke myself as she laps at her fingers. “I’ll take that as a yes.” My dick buzzes, begging for more friction. “Fucking hell.” She looks out of this world, her touch moving back to her pussy, massaging, her back bowing, her pleasure tangible. She’s getting close, her focus on her own pleasure, her eyes heavy, her body stiffening to deal with the building orgasm.

“Damn it, Ava, look at me.” I jerk, grit my teeth, squeeze myself to hold back shooting my load. “You’re close, baby.”

“Yes,” she yelps, her hand working faster over her pussy.

“Oh Jesus, not yet. Control it.”

“I can’t.” Her head drops back, her legs splashing in the water. “Oh God.”

My thrusting fist picks up speed when I comprehend she’s past the point of return. “Ava, fuck, control it.”

“Jesse.”

“Ava, you look fucking amazing.” I move off the edge of the tub and drop into the water, and she sees my intent, moving her hand and spreading her legs wider, making space for my mouth. The moment my tongue slips into her wet heat, her hands find my hair and yank brutally while I suck her orgasm out of her, holding mine back, absorbing her shaking thighs either side of my head. She gasps, goes limp, shudders, and I pull her into the water. Kneeling opposite each other, I rest my cock in her heat. “My turn. Hold it against you,” I order, letting her take over, moving my hands to her face and kissing her as she strokes me calmly. “Just keep it like that,” I mumble around her lips. Oh God. “I could stay like this forever.”

“I love you,” she gasps, her words as urgent as her thrusting hand.

It’s my undoing, and I come hard, kissing her through my release, the pressure releasing, my body unraveling.

“My work here is done,” she whispers, breathless.

Her work will never be done, and neither will mine. Especially now. “You’re a savage, lady.” I lower my arse to my heels and pull her onto my lap, feeling her skin cooling. “The water’s getting cold.”

“A little,” she says, unbothered.

“Let me clean you down.” She fights my attempts to move her, sealing our fronts, clinging tighter. Sealed. Connected. Always. “I’ll be quick. I don’t want you catching a cold.”

She finally relents, letting me take over, and I wash her down quickly, avoiding certain parts of the water. I grimace, laughing on the inside. I’m looking forward to cuddling up for the night, a weight lifted from my shoulders. “My lady’s tired.” It’s been a long, draining day. “Snuggle?”

She’s suddenly lost the ability to talk, her body heavy as I lift her out of the bath and dry us both down, Ava, once again, happy to let me take care of her.

Once she’s in bed, I let her put herself where she wants to be, holding her close. Just a little nap. We can have a little daytime nap.

I sigh, melting into the bed and Ava’s clinch. “I’ll never love one more than the other,” I say quietly, holding her tighter when she answers with a kiss and nothing more, dosing off in my arms. I smile at the ceiling, truly astonished by how much pregnancy is taking out of her already. Or how much I’m taking out of her with my constant bombshells. Maybe a bit of both.

I try to fall asleep too, try to shut down, but for all the will in the world, I can’t find the land of nod. Is it my utter disbelief? Ava disproving my fears? I don’t know. I feel so awake, so alert. We’re having twins. We’ll have two babies to love. We’re so fucking lucky.

Except...

Someone somehow stole my car, and they tried to run Ava off the road. Who? Who the fuck is so twisted and warped they would do that? It takes revenge to another level. Danger.

I need to call John.

Ava’s breathing is low and level, the kind of breathing she has when she’s deep in sleep. I ease her away and edge off the bed, taking myself downstairs to get some water and have a few dips before I call John and start getting down to the not-so pleasant business of finding out who stole my fucking car and used it to attack my pregnant wife.

I’m mid-dip when the there’s a knock at the front door, and I lift my head, my finger hanging out of my mouth. Who the fuck is that at this time of day? I get up and open the door to Sam. “My man, what the hell happened?” he asks, letting himself in.

Drew appears, looking me up and down. “You’re naked.”

“It’s my home, I can be whatever the fuck I want to be.” I frown at their backs as they go into the kitchen. “For fuck’s sake,” I mutter, closing the door and following. They’re both at the island with a glass of water each when I arrive. “What?” I ask, looking between them, both sitting comfortably.

“What?” Sam asks in disbelief. “Where do you want me to start?”

“You spoke to John?” I ask, joining them.

“What the fuck?” Drew breathes. “Any ideas who it was?”

I raise a brow as I dip, and Drew shakes his head.

“You think Van Der Haus is a car thief?”

“I don’t know, Drew,” I admit, dropping my jar. “Maybe not him personally.”

“So he paid someone to steal your car?” Sam chimes in.

“I don’t know,” I grate.

“Is Ava okay?”

“Yeah, she’s fine. A little shaken.” Wait. How much did John tell them? “Is that it?” I ask.

“What?” Both look at each other on a frown.

“Did John mention anything else?”

“Like what?”

“Like the fact Ava’s expecting twins?” Stupid me, I say that just as Sam’s taking a slurp of water. His cheeks balloon, and he sprays it far and wide. I don’t mind, I’m naked, but Drew? He looks pristine, ready to make a trip to The Manor, I guess.

He dives up from his stool, arms held out at his sides, and looks down his front. “This is fucking cashmere, Sam, you prick!”

“Twins?” Sam squeaks, wiping his chin, eyes wide.

“Wait, twins?” Drew forgets his wardrobe drama and points piercing blue eyes full of shock my way. “Ava’s pregnant with twins?”

I nod.

“Fuck,” they breathe in unison.

I nod again.

“And...”

“I’ve told her about Jake,” I tell them. “She knows about Jake.” The absence of Rosie and Lauren from this conversation is screaming. “And that is that,” I say, standing. “And you two girls are going to fuck off and leave me in peace.” I go to them, hooking an arm around each of their elbows, trying to hoof them up off their stools.

Sam comes with ease.

Drew dives out of my way, looking down at my dick. “Don’t ever try to manhandle me when you’re naked ever again.”

“Oh, you only like Sam touching you when you’re naked, huh?”

Sam snickers. Drew’s nostrils flare.

“Out,” I say, pointing the way.

“Fine.” Drew stomps off. “You won’t need these.” He holds something up above his head.

“What’s that?”

“Keys to the Aston the dealership’s lent you while yours is located. John put a call in.”

I go after Drew, swiping them from his hand. Must call John. “Thanks.”

“Fuck off.”

“John sent this too,” Sam says, and I turn and find him holding up my book on pregnancy. “Might want to swap it for one on twins.” The book drops. “Fucking hell, man.”

“Yeah, I know.” I take the book. “You and Kate okay?”

“Yeah, we’re good.”

“Will you let her know I’m taking Ava away tomorrow?”

He looks surprisingly surprised. “Where are you going?”

“I don’t know,” I muse, hoping I can convince her to let me get us away from the fucking city for a few days while we figure out what the hell is going on.

I’m not holding my breath.

I close the door on the boys and get my mobile, calling John.

“Are you back in the land of the living?” he asks, his deep rumbling voice strangely comforting.

“It was a bit of a shock, eh?”

He laughs. “A bit. How do you feel about it?”

“Good,” I say, knowing he knows it will have unearthed endless regrets and guilt in me. “I’ve told her about Jake.”

Again, the absence of Rosie and Lauren’s names in that sentence screams. “Okay,” he says slowly. “How did she take it?”

“Well.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less. Ava’s a reasonable young woman. When she’s not being driven crazy by her husband.”

I scowl. “Ha. Ha.” And is he trying to say something without saying it? Like... I bet she’d take the bombshell about your dead daughter and ex-wife well too. And I bet she’d be reasonable if you suggested Sarah returns to work. “Anything on the cameras?”

“I’m trying to access the backup recordings. Playback is on the blink.”

Jesus, the new system can’t come soon enough. “Let me know.”

“I will. Listen, a police officer gave me his number when I went back to the scene. You’d already left with Ava in the ambulance. I said I’d get you to call him. He wants a statement from Ava.”

My hackles rise. “They’ll have to wait.”

“This is serious. There were multiple cars involved. You can’t deal with this on your own, Jesse.”

“I know, John.” I wish I could, though. I wish I could find the fucker and break every bone in his body. Whoever the fuck he is. Jail time just won’t cut it.

“Your bike and Ava’s car have been picked up by the police. They may need them for evidence, depending on how the investigation goes.”

I blow out my cheeks. “Okay.” He’s right. This needs urgent attention. “Text me the officer’s number. I’ll call him now.” I hang up, and my phone soon bleeps the arrival of a message. I hit the number, taking my phone to my ear.

“PC Gladstone.”

“Yeah, Hi, my name’s Jesse Ward. My wife was involved in the collision today near Tower Bridge.”

“Mr. Ward, thanks for calling me.”

“No problem.” I lower to a stool and take a deep breath, fighting with my instinct to hold back information. I’ve dealt with the police before. I haven’t much faith they can work at a pace I’ll be comfortable with. Like really fucking fast. But I might know a man who will.

“Can I speak to your wife?”

“She’s sleeping.”

“Of course. Is she okay? Any injuries?”

“No, just shook up, as you can imagine. She’s pregnant with twins. I’m sorry I was so short with you on the scene.”

He breathes out. “Understandable. Would you get her to call me when she’s feeling up to it?” He’s not applying pressure, but I sense it. To John’s point, there were several vehicles involved and a runaway Aston. I should mention the Aston. It’ll look strange if one of the other witnesses mentions it and I don’t.

“There was an Aston at the scene.”

I hear the rustling of papers. PC Gladstone turning the pages of his notebook. “Yes, a black DBS.”

“It’s mine. It was stolen earlier today from my property outside of the city.”

I hear his shock, even if he doesn’t make a sound. No, PC Gladstone, this isn’t a simple case of reckless driving. “Are you saying this is a personal vendetta?” he asks.

“I think so.”

“Anyone spring to mind?”

I suppress my laugh. Where would I start? “No,” I say quietly. “I called Aston Martin to get information on the location—it has a tracker—but they couldn’t help me. Then I got a call from Ava asking me why I was following her. Obviously, my alarm bells went wild.”

“Obviously,” he parrots. “And you don’t know of anyone who would want to hurt your wife?”

“No.”

“Okay, well, we should definitely take a statement from you too. When’s convenient?”

“I’ll call you,” I say.

“Thank you. And thanks for calling me. I’ll wait to hear from you.”

I hang up and lay my phone on the counter, mulling over too many things in my mind. But the loudest question?

Who?