Chapter Nineteen #2
They wrestle playfully and it makes me smile seeing them like that together, one of those rare moments of uninterrupted joy.
My eyes flicker to Raven, a furtive glance.
She is deadpan, staring at Skyla and James, the spatula in her hand still.
I know she’s mentioned her mum dating around a fair bit, and I wonder if James is the first nice man she’s ever encountered.
Maybe that’s why she’s warmed to him so much.
Her dark eyes sweep up under her long lashes, finding me looking right at her.
I quickly turn away but my thoughts wander.
I want to pick this girl apart, to understand her.
Another squawk erupts, this time from Raven who is getting pelted with flour from Jake.
Her smile is back, a rare sight to be seen.
I’m astounded by her grin, because when it’s there, she looks even more like Skyla.
I’m back to staring at her now, but I can’t help it.
The brief window into her darkness is gone once again, replaced with an innocence so very easy to believe.
When we follow Harper and the boys to the front door and wave them off, I’m startled by James, who wraps an arm around my waist, his fingers grazing exploratively over my hipbone.
Physical touch is my love language, and for the last decade, at least, that has been neglected.
Every part of me wants to respond to him, to push my body against his, tease him, please him.
Harper toots her car horn at us as they leave, and James lowers his face to my ear. ‘I can’t wait to take you upstairs,’ he whispers, his lips brushing against my earlobe.
A fire or something like it stirs inside me, something giddy, effervescent. It has been so long since I heard those words, or words like them — and we have had such a good night. One of the best in years. It’s been uncomplicated, light-hearted and fun. I’ve missed having fun with my husband.
Skyla and Raven are inside rinsing plates and loading the dishwasher.
I watch them together, their movements in perfect harmony.
The results of the DNA samples are going to rock everything, either way, and I find myself wanting to enjoy this simple moment where all seems well, even if it is just for one night.
Raven is unguarded, no nasty snigger behind everything she says to me.
She has actually been pleasant tonight — and it does make me wonder if I’ve been wrong about her.
Does it just take a while for her toughened exterior to crack?
Have we finally broken through? I’ve seen a different side to her tonight while she helped me measure out ingredients for our hot chocolate souffles.
I still can’t explain all of the things she’s done to make me feel uneasy, but for the first time, that feeling is gone. For now, at least.
While James heads upstairs, I help the girls clean the kitchen, listening to them talk about the latest episode of some show they’re binge-watching. I wipe down the countertops and pour a glass of water before turning to leave.
‘Night, girls,’ I say from the doorway. ‘Turn off the lights on your way up, okay?’
Skyla nods, and while she doesn’t come up to me the way she used to, to give me a goodnight kiss, I’m starting to understand that she is growing up.
She isn’t my little girl any more and she doesn’t want Raven to see her as one.
Maybe she doesn’t even want me or James to see her as one any more.
I guess that’s something I just have to learn to accept.
The important thing is she’s safe, she’s home.
Right now, that’s all I can ask for. We’ve had a good evening and for once I feel like nothing is about to ruin it.
Climbing the stairs, a rush of adrenaline courses through me.
I’m about to have sex with my husband for the first time in what, months?
No, years. My heart aches at the realisation that it’s been so long.
For a moment I stand outside, wondering if I should stretch first. I’m not as limber as I once was.
My body aches and creaks in new places — but then, so does his, and tonight we finally get to explore each other again. Reacquaint ourselves with one another.
I open the bedroom door, finding James standing in front of the wardrobe, a towel tied around his waist. He smells of pomegranate and apple, and as I touch his chest his skin is still hot from the shower.
He towers over me, his large hands on my sides as he pulls me towards him.
Instinctively, I unhook his towel so it falls to the floor between us.
He pulses in my hands, leaning his head back with a deep exhale.
It’s been so long that I forgot how big he is.
When he lifts up my shirt, I can’t help but pause.
The urge to wrap my arms around my body, hide myself, is strong.
I don’t look how I used to, back in my thirties when things between us had been easier.
My skin has lost its elasticity. My breasts have dropped, flat and dismal out of my bra.
But he is my husband and he’s here, solid and wanting me.
I try to embrace it, to let my insecurities go.
He tugs at my trousers, and I sit awkwardly on the bed, peeling them down my legs along with my knickers before standing back up. I wish I’d shaved, or moisturised at least, but I allow him to look at me, to take me in even though I’m uncomfortable.
‘Tell me how much you want me,’ he mutters, pulling at my hair.
I gasp, shocked by how rough he’s being, but not hating it either. I have to stroke his hand and remind him to be gentler with me, though. My neck still hurts from whiplash.
‘Sorry,’ he breathes into my ear. His lips cover mine before I can speak and I’m glad for it, unsure what I’d say to him. I want you so much sounds forced and unnatural, even though it’s true.
Having this moment be mechanical isn’t what I want.
I don’t want things between us to be orchestrated, not now, not in a moment I have craved for so very long.
And yet I’m clumsy, unsure of how to handle him.
Even his tongue feels different in my mouth, moving around like it’s exploring new, unfamiliar territory.
He yanks my hair again, hard enough it actually hurts, sending shooting pains down the side of my neck.
I don’t remember him ever being this rough before.
Is this what he likes now? If so, when did it change, and how?
In our early years, James never seemed that interested in sex.
It was usually me initiating it, me with the high sex drive.
Then things turned more regimented when we were trying to conceive, and I felt like that drove him even further away.
So it’s a strange sensation for me to feel wanted by him.
To have him making the moves, leading the way.
I’ve never experienced him being so dominant or vocal in the bedroom, until now.
It’s exciting, exhilarating but unexpected.
The change in him perplexes me but I try to get out of my own head, to just go with it — and while I’m sure I’m going to be left with a fair few marks, we lie back on our bed afterwards, breathless and sated.
‘That,’ he sighs sleepily, lacing his fingers through mine, ‘was incredible.’
There’s no denying it. It was, and I fall into a deep, dreamless sleep for the first time in years.
* * *
[DNA Match] Your DNA Match samples have been processed.
I get the message that the tests have been processed as I’m taking a sip of my morning coffee.
I sputter and cough, thrust back into the real world.
Gripping the phone in my hands, I read the message again and again.
The results have been processed. The wait is almost over.
I stare at the words on the screen until they blur.
I message Carol, swaying with anticipation. Her response is almost instant.
Want me to come over?
I’m about to reply yes, because I don’t want to go through this alone.
Whatever the outcome, I think I need her here when I open them up.
But then I hear it, a sharp yelp, something stomach churning.
I drop my phone and race to the French doors, looking out onto the patio and dog kennel.
I wish I hadn’t left my phone on my sofa the moment I see Alfie, usually pressed up against the gate waiting for us to let him out for the day, now lying motionless, his golden fur red.
‘James!’ I scream, scrambling to get out of the door. ‘James, come quick!’
I’m already outside but his feet thunder down the staircase and he soon finds me, crouched over Alfie. My hands are covered in his blood, warm and sticky, but I keep pressing into his wounds, scared to let go. His breathing is laboured, his usually wagging tail still.
‘What happened?’ James asks, bending down beside me. He still smells of pomegranate and apple, but last night feels so far gone from us already.
‘I don’t know.’ I look around the kennel, searching for a hole in the welded wire mesh, but the kennel looks undisturbed.
There’s no way a fox could’ve got in here, but even if it could, would a fox attack a golden retriever?
I doubt it. Alfie’s too big for an animal like that to try and attack him.
‘We need to get him to the vets,’ I say as Skyla runs out, throwing her hand over her mouth.
‘Oh my God,’ she gasps, looking down at Alfie. ‘Mum?’
The way she says mum, it’s like the entire world hangs in the balance of my response.
It’s shattering, because I don’t know what to say.
I don’t know how to make this better. Oh God.
Not Alfie. My sweet, daft, lovable Alfie.
What happened to him? I risk removing my hand for just a moment, noticing several points of entry into his side.
Six, at least. They’re too spread out to be teeth marks.
I press back down quickly as blood continues to spurt out from the holes in his side.