Chapter 53
Chapter Fifty-Three
Jules
S pace opens between two Porsches, and I slam on the brakes and swing into it before someone else can take it.
“Nice.” I turn to Mick. His face is a shade paler than when we left the house. “You should come along to school pick up more often. There’s never a park this close.”
He shakes his head. “I know you’re in control, but Jesus, Jules, you test the boundaries.”
“Just because you drive like a grandpa.” I pat his thigh. The hardness of pure muscle melts my insides, and I snatch my hand away. I lost the right to touch him after I removed my rings. “Don’t worry. I’m more sedate when Riley’s in the car.”
Mick’s throat works at double pace, and his tongue slides across his bottom lip. My skin tingles as I remember what delicious wickedness his mouth is capable of. The last time I had it between my legs, I came twice in five minutes. That was a lifetime ago. He adjusts his trousers, but not before I get a glimpse of a bulge that wasn’t there earlier.
I lick my lips. This is dangerous territory. “We should collect Riley.”
Mick tracks the movement. “Yeah,” he croaks .
The sun hits my skin with the force of an oven as I step out of the car. It’s been a scorcher of a summer. Reminds me of when the heat was just as steamy in the bedroom. I avoid staring at Mick’s crotch and make a note to spend more quality time with my vibrator to take the edge off this obsession with sex.
Riley’s new teacher walks towards us. Saying goodbye to Mr Campbell at the end of last year was bittersweet, but Riley’s adjusted and proudly tells everyone she meets that she’s now a ‘second grader’. And Taylor moved to the eastern suburbs after her divorce was finalised, so there’s no risk of running into her. Good riddance.
Ms Rogers sticks out her hand. “You must be Riley’s dad.”
Mick stands taller. “Yes, I am.”
“You look just like the picture your daughter shared in class.”
Mick’s jaw drops, and so does mine. Given our daughter’s artistic skills, there’s no way her teacher would have been able to identify him in any of her artwork. “You recognise me from a drawing?”
She laughs and shakes her head. “No, a photo from show and tell.”
Mick grins at me, and for a moment, I feel the full weight of our connection, the one that had unravelled and is slowly knitting itself back together. “My husband will be picking Riley up some days because I start uni next month.”
“That’s wonderful.” Ms Rogers claps her hands, and I can see why Riley likes her. She’s brimming with vitality. “What are you studying?”
I straighten my shoulders, loving how a purpose shoos away the blues. “A master’s degree, assessing the shift in Australia from foraging to farming with a specific focus on climate change.”
I’m still pinching myself. After all the job rejections, I’d almost given up hope of ever using my qualifications again .
Ms Rogers rubs her hands together. “Fascinating. It’d be great if you could come and talk with the children one day. If you’re interested, of course.”
“I’d love to.”
Egyptian archaeology will always hold a special place in my heart, but now I can no longer imagine being so constrained. There’s plenty of history in my own backyard to keep me inspired and, more importantly, it gives me the potential to make a tangible impact on the world. It’s different from what I’ve previously studied. Very different. And that’s half the appeal. It reflects the new Jules. The improved version.
“Mummy, Daddy.” Riley races through the gate like a tornado on legs.
Mick sweeps her into his arms before her small body collides with ours. “Happy birthday, sweet pea.”
“Thank you!” Riley smothers Mick in kisses. It’s so cute I look away to avoid turning into a blubbering mess.
“I drew a picture. Can I show you?”
“Of course.” Mick sets Riley on the path. She rummages through her backpack and pulls out a sketch pad. My insides play a game of hide and seek as we wait to see what she’s drawn. Her track record so far hasn’t been in our favour.
“Look!” Riley flashes the page at us. Bugger. The paper is all red. Again.
Mick drops to his haunches. “It’s lovely.”
“Ms Rogers said the colours had to mean something.”
“I see.” I don’t see at all. Mick and I never argue anymore. I’d even go so far as to say we’re friends. Why is our daughter still fixated on the one angry colour?
Ms Rogers laughs. “I did. Please, Riley, explain it to your parents.”
“Okay.” She points at the picture, and her voice takes on a tone that’s so much older than her years. “Red is Mummy’s favourite colour. And Daddy bought me and Mummy red roses last week for Valentine’s Day, even though I think he really meant them for Mummy because Grandma said they’re for lovers.”
Oh my god. That was a mouthful. And good on you, Mum. My gaze darts to Mick, whose cheeks are approaching the same shade as the roses Riley mentioned. It was a lovely gesture. One that gave me hope for the future. As does the revelation about the red colour. Has it always been about love and not anger?
Mick straightens and clears his throat. “We’d best be going. We’ve got a birthday to celebrate. See you next week.” He gives Ms Rogers an awkward wave and takes Riley’s hand.
McDonald’s is a short drive away. School kids pack the interior, so we collect our burgers and shakes and find a table outside. It surprised me when Riley told me this was all she wished for on her special day. No party, just her mum and dad. Then again, we haven’t done anything as a family since the Egyptian exhibition. That was a lifetime ago.
Riley inhales her meal like she hasn’t eaten for a week, then points at the play equipment. “Can I?”
Mick gives her a playful pout. “I thought you wanted to be with your mum and dad?”
“I did.” Her gaze slides to me. “But now I want to play.”
Riley skips away, but not before I glimpse a sly smile on her face.
“I think our daughter has used her birthday as an excuse to get us together.”
“Looks like it.” Mick rubs the back of his neck, his gaze focused on Riley. She’s struck up a conversation with another girl. It warms my heart to see her getting on with other kids. She’s been a model student since she started wearing glasses and working with a tutor to help her catch up. And not the tutor Mick’s conniving mum had in mind .
Mick straightens in his chair. Fiddles with his napkin. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
The thick shake curdles in my stomach. Is it too late? Has he met someone else? I throw empty packets into a larger paper bag. Anything to keep my hands busy and my over-active brain from imagining the worst. “Sure.”
“It’s about Davo.”
Oh. I slide the rubbish to one side. “You’ve already done that.”
“I know. But not all of it.”
A niggle of doubt pokes at my insides. What more could there be? “Okay.”
Mick inhales, holds the breath, and then exhales so slowly his chest barely moves. “You know he was killed in a drug bust gone wrong.”
“Yeah.”
He takes a sip of his shake, his fingers trembling. “What I didn’t tell you is I was there.”
What? I reach across the table. “That must have been awful. Please, you don’t have to continue if it’s too hard.”
He clasps my hand. “I need to. We can’t have any secrets between us.” He sips his drink again, his entire arm shaking. “It was chaos. Gunshots and shouting. The daughter of one of the gang was caught in the crossfire. I had to protect her; she was just a child. But it caused Davo to hesitate. A bullet pierced his carotid artery and …” His voice hitches. “He bled out in my arms.”
Mick’s face is pale, his eyes bleak. I want to crawl into his lap and make the pain go away. Instead, I settle for a squeeze of my fingers around his.
He hangs his head, his chest caving in on itself as if the burden he carries is too heavy. “I thought the girl was safe on the lounge. I should have kept a closer eye on her. Then Davo might still be alive. ”
“You can’t think like that. You couldn’t have known what would happen.”
A lone tear trickles down his cheek. “Davo asked me to look after his family.”
“Of course he did. He was your best mate.”
“But I failed him. I should have done more.”
He releases my hand, but I’m having none of that. I scoot closer to him. “I’m still your wife, and you’re hurting.”
He buries his head in my hair. Shudders wrack his body. “Talking about this in a public place isn’t the smartest idea I’ve had.”
I glare at a group ogling us from a couple of tables away. “It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks.”
“I was so lost.”
“Of course you were. You watched your best friend …” I can’t even say the word, let alone imagine the agony of what he experienced. A shiver runs down my spine at the thought of something happening to Claire. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You did what you were trained to do. Protect civilians.”
He raises his head. I kiss his cheek, the soft bristles of his beard tickling my lips. “Thank you for telling me. I have no more secrets either. You know everything about me. The good. And the bad.”
His arm snakes around my waist. “Thanks for not judging me.”
“Oh, Mick. I’ve got no right to judge anyone.”
We sit in comfortable silence, delighting in Riley’s laughter as she plays with the other child. The comforting murmurs of people enjoying their meals surround us, as does the delicious smell of burgers and fries. And with it, I sense years of despair seep from Mick’s body. If only for a little while.
His lips graze my ear. “So, what do you think?”
Despite the balmy evening, goose pimples pepper my skin. “About what? ”
He covers my hand with his. “Starting again.”
I suddenly feel like a teenager on her first date. My throat closes up and my mouth opens. But nothing comes out. I’m a master’s student, and I can’t string two words together.
Mick swallows. “I think we’ve been getting on pretty well.”
What is he suggesting? I’m not sure we’re ready to resume our marriage as if the last couple of years haven’t happened.
He rubs the back of his neck. “How about we get to know each other all over again? This time, we’ll start with dinner first. A proper date.”
The tension in my throat eases. His proposal is perfect. But the hope, the longing to make everything right again, is too intense. I need to lighten the moment. “You don’t want sex?”
He chuckles and plants a kiss on my forehead. “I’ll always want sex with you, Jules. But I know I’ve hurt you with my secrets. I’d do anything to go back and do things differently. You and Riley are my world.”
I glance at his left hand where he still wears his wedding ring, while my finger remains bare. He’s never given up on us. “There’s a lot I’d do differently, too.” Acknowledge that losing my career was eating away at me more than I realised. That I’d lost confidence in myself. Admit that alcohol was slowly seducing me with its lure to kill the pain.
He nudges my shoulder. “So, what do you say?”
Love, regret and the promise of a new tomorrow swirl like specks of velvety gold in his chocolate eyes.
“I say, I love you, Mr Williams, and I would love nothing more than to date you.” I tease his lips with mine. The spicy scent of his aftershave sends a shot of warmth mingled with lust down my spine. It’s a fleeting kiss. A healing kiss. A kiss filled with a commitment that penetrates all the way to my soul.
Riley’s squeals have me pulling away. She’s peering at us from behind her hands, the little matchmaker, her smile brighter than those of eighty thousand girls at a Taylor Swift concert. Mick wraps his arms around my waist. We both wave. Riley waves back and resumes playing with her new friend.
I whisper in Mick’s ear. “I don’t put out until the third date.”
His chest rumbles with laughter. “Then I’m counting this as our first one.”
I give up my chair and sit on his lap. Enjoy the warm, firm muscles of Mick’s pecs and abs against my back. I don’t kid myself there’s not more work to be done. Far from it. I’ve barely begun with AA and Mick has a lot of therapy ahead of him with his PTSD. But the important thing is we’re not hiding our pain from each other or ourselves. Whatever the future holds, the vows we made when we got married still stand—to love and cherish, in sickness and in health, till death do us part.