Isabella
“Do you want a sandwich with your ketchup?” I asked, staring at the red sauce dripping out of her pakora stuffed sandwich.
She swiped the excess onto her thumb.
“You know that’s called rimming, right?” she said, licking the sauce off her thumb.
“What is?”
“What Luke did to your arsehole.”
I gasped and glanced around the staff room. Agnes sat in the corner with her book. She might not have heard—she only had a hearing aid in one ear. I smacked Rhea’s arm.
“Stop shouting it out,” I hissed.
“What? Everyone knows what rimming is,” she said, taking another bite of her sandwich.
I rubbed a hand over my face, but I did tap into Google anyway.
What is rimming?
Yes. Luke had used his mouth, lips, and tongue to stimulate my anus.
“It’s actually called analingus,” I said, setting my phone down.
“That reminds me of that airline. You know, the Irish one.”
I frowned for a moment, then remembered which one she meant.
“Aer Lingus?”
She slapped her hand on the table. “That’s the one.”
I lifted my tub and wrapper.
“I’m going back to my office.”
“But we haven’t covered cunnilingus,” she shouted after me as I walked away.
I wish I had more friends to talk to.
? ? ?
Luke: I’m outside, beautiful.
I couldn’t stop the butterflies or the massive grin spreading across my face. I quickly replied, tapping furiously across my phone keyboard.
Me: I’m on my way.
The exhibition was going well, and everything was in order at work. I grabbed my long jacket—the navy one that flared out at my hips. Luke loved it on me.
Luke was always so attentive, so sweet. Had I eaten? What did I eat? Who did I sit with at lunch? When would I finish work? Don’t get the Tube, he’d come and pick me up.
Only the security guards and cleaners were left in the building. Some of the lights had already dimmed low. My heels beat against the polished floor as I grew closer to the front door.
“Goodnight,” I called out to James.
He glanced up from the front desk.
“Goodnight, Mrs. Rayne.”
I still used my old title. Initially it had been to keep men away, but then I’d grown accustomed to it. It had become a kind of safety barrier.
January. February. March.
I rested a hand on my belly.
I’d be Mrs Newbury soon.
Mr and Mrs Luke Newbury.
The door opened, and there he stood in the cold, coat collar pulled up, a warm smile already on his lips.
“Bella,” he murmured, before swooping in to kiss me.
It felt like an assault on my senses.
Cold cheeks, a cold nose, but his mouth and lips were hot.
I kissed him back as he curled an arm around me, drawing me against him. I held onto his neck as our kiss stretched on. Any lingering nerves, any thoughts that this was all happening too fast, were pushed to the very back of my mind.
His fingers inched down to rest just above my rear as he finally pulled back.
When my vision cleared, I stared into his eyes and saw it there—the longing, raw and unguarded, the kind he usually kept locked away behind jokes and confidence.
My chest ached, because I recognised it.
I felt the exact same thing. We were both bruised in our own ways, carrying scars neither of us talked about, and somehow, impossibly, he made me feel safe again.
Safer than I’d felt in longer than I wanted to admit.
“Let’s go home,” I whispered, and his face softened, something almost boyish breaking through.
“Home,” he repeated, like the word itself was new to him.
His hand found mine as we walked down the stairs together.
I listened as he told me how the renovations were progressing, his voice warm with an excitement he didn’t try to hide.
Every so often I studied his face, watching the way it lit up talking about the space he was building—not just for himself, but for me. For Amber. For all of us.
On the drive home, I made my peace with leaving Mrs. Rayne behind for good.
? ? ?
I dabbed some perfume on my wrists and neck. Luke had been very generous with his Christmas gifts. My eyes drifted to the earrings in the mirror—baguette-cut topaz gemstones, set in an intricate design with smaller diamonds and darker sapphire stones. He’d said they reminded him of my eyes.
I hope he likes what I ordered for us.
“Muuuum,” Amber screamed, snapping me out of my thoughts.
I didn’t hesitate, bolting out of my room and racing downstairs.
“What is it, honey?” I shouted, reaching the halfway point on the staircase.
Was she hurt? She’d sounded panicked.
She ran out of the front room and threw open the door just as I reached the last step. By the time I got to the doorway, she was standing barefoot in the garden, phone raised in the air. Her arm tracked along the road, and I caught a glimpse of a luxury white SUV peeling away down our street.
Without a word, Amber shoved her phone in my face. There was a video playing on the screen. I took it from her and hit replay.
There was Sadie, dressed head to toe in black skin-tight clothing, sprinting down our driveway in mud-caked high-heeled boots.
Damn.
Amber didn’t know what had been happening, so I schooled my features carefully, keeping everything smooth and unreadable.
“Oh,” I said, aiming for nonchalant, hoping she might not need anything further. I was wrong.
“Who is she? What the hell was she doing spying on me eating cereal?” she demanded, still visibly rattled from the intrusion.
“Um. I can’t say for sure, but that might’ve been Luke’s ex.”
She didn’t need to know about the visit to my work, or the text messages. And I certainly wasn’t about to mention the emails Luke had told me about. Kristie Killer, seriously?
She grabbed my hand and turned the screen back to face herself.
“Didn’t you say they divorced months ago?”
Almost a year now.
“Yeah, they did. Well before I was in the picture,” I said, already half-considering whether to call Luke the second Amber was out of earshot.
“Why doesn’t she just stalk you online like a normal person?”
I sighed and let go of her phone.
“I know, right? It’s better for the environment. That’s a gas guzzler she’s driving.”
Neither of us could hold a straight face, and we both dissolved into laughter.
God, I loved my girl.
“Keep one of those ancient weapons on you when you’re at work,” she said, still chuckling.
“I can’t steal anything from the museum.”
“Borrow.”
I shook my head at her. “I love you.”
“I know,” she said, kissing my cheek. “But seriously—tell Luke.”
She went inside and upstairs. I closed the door and followed slowly behind. In a mere six weeks, my life had changed rapidly. Sadie had a habit of attacking, then vanishing for a while, but she always came back.
I checked the time before dialling Luke’s number.
She was a skinny little ginger nuisance with the entitlement of a duchess and the manners of a bin rat.
No one messed with my daughter.