CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Chapter Twenty
Jackson
I fucking watched her sleep.
I lay there, hitched up on one elbow, watching her curled into her side, exhausted from having spent a weekend with my family. She was my epitome of beauty; lips pink and slightly open, dark mahogany hair curled around her face; long black eyelashes draped over pinked cheeks. She was moving in with me, and I didn't want to run away in fear or start to draft an agreement around property ownership or panic over a bottle of whiskey. Instead, I wanted to stand on the rooftops and make a declaration to the world that this woman saw enough of a man in me to want to be there every morning and evening, to let me inside her, to be the only one to make her come and to be the one she shared everything with. Or at least I hoped nearly everything. Somethings might be reserved for girlfriends only; but I could let that happen.
I pushed her hair back from her face, feeling silk across my fingers. My chest was full and I wanted to burst. My family had loved her, she seemed to have loved them, even made Dad, who was as much of an acquired taste as whiskey. We'd played cricket in the fields, rammed the pub, lazed in the gardens with gin and tonics, barbequed the local butcher's stock and then proceeded to drink into my parents' wine cellar. By the end of the evening, she knew most everything about Seph, none of which she had shared with me yet, and everything about Ava and Payton's sex life, none of which I wanted to know. She fit; with me, with my family, she just fit.
Vanessa's eyes flitted open, fixing on me. "How long was I asleep?"
"Since we got home," I said, not balking at the use of the word home, it was now, for both of us, even if it wouldn't be official until after the retirement ball.
"I'm sorry, you've carried all the luggage in yourself," she said, stretching. "I would've helped."
"I think I can manage to bring in a few bags," I said, moving out a hand to touch her. "I know you had work to do. Can it wait?"
She moved onto her back. "Not really. It's for a meeting tomorrow, so it's a choice of getting up early or doing it now. I'd rather do it now."
I was silent, my mind blurring with questions from the weekend, from the things we'd talked about in passing and the things we'd hinted at. "Let's start planning the office," I said. "If nothing else, we can make sure the desk's the perfect height for fucking."
She peeled with laughter. "Is that all you think about?"
I paused for a moment. "No. I've thought about a lot more than that, especially this weekend."
She sat up, the shirt she was wearing gaping enough to expose her bra. I looked, unable not to. I wanted to touch too, but managed to resist. Somehow.
"Like what?"
I remembered what Marie had said about honesty and what my dad had told me about when he and Marie had first met. From all of what I knew, they'd never had a disagreement they couldn't solve. They'd always been honest. Even when me or Max or Callum had done something to warrant us asking Marie not to tell Dad, she had done, but he'd been quiet enough about it so we hadn't known our confidence had been blown until it didn't matter. But then, it was clear that they had trusted each other in dealing with us. "Children."
This was the biggie, I knew. I hadn't thought about it much before, but I hadn't had a relationship where I'd asked someone to live with me. We were both of an age where children had to be a question, although there was still time for an answer.
"Okay," she said, thoughtful. "You said you wanted them. I think I do too."
I nodded, my hand in her hair, needing some connection. "I do. I hadn't thought about it much as it wasn't relevant, but I'd like to be a dad and that's not a dad like mine was, who didn't know what he was doing and needed Marie to teach him. We learned to be parents with Callum and then the twins and Ava, so I know something about babies..." I stop, not quite having realized how important this was to me until now and now wanting to burden her with my needs.
"Okay," she said, creating distance by sitting further up. "I didn't think I was bothered while I was with Richard. I thought I was all about my career and had no space for children. You seem to have kick-started a biological clock." She looked sleep-mussed and vulnerable. It itched to sit behind her and pull her into my chest and give her some form of physical reassurance.
"Maybe that's what's happened to me. I think about you being pregnant with my child and all I want to do is fuck you. That sounds so unromantic, I know. But the idea of it just makes me want to tie you to the bed and get you that way. I know every man is meant to be terrified of a girl telling him he's gotten her pregnant, but if it happened I think I'd be shouting from the rooftops. Maybe not quite so soon though." I said, hating how desperate I sounded.
She laughed, her hands making that connection between us and she pulled me into her. "I know. I've had the same picture. I think we're on the same page. But I'm aware of rushing things and also, if there's a reason we can't."
I did pull her into me, so I was spooning her, feeling her body heat against mine. "Then we'd be a very good aunt and uncle or look at other options if that wasn't what we wanted. Chemistry's complex because it's quite likely based on biology, but there has to be something more and I think we have that, else all we'd do would be fuck and never talk."
She laughed, moving my hand to her stomach. "You slept with your hand here the other night."
"Really?" I knew I had. I had woken up with my hands on her stomach, dreaming she was big with my baby. "Maybe I'm too possessive."
She laughed quietly. "Maybe. But I like it, so that's okay. Jackson, you've never told me what happened to your mum."
The room felt a little smaller and I tried to not move my hands. This was something none of us talked about, me, Max and Claire. It wasn't an issue for Callum, he'd had Marie, but the rest of us remembered. But if, and yes, it was still and if, I was going to have a future with this woman, she needed to know from me and sooner rather than later. "It's not pleasant," I said.
"Death never is," she responded. "My mum not being there was horrific; I was twelve, I needed her more than ever at that point."
"I can understand that. By the time I was that age, we'd had Marie."
She left the silence for a few minutes. "You don't need to tell me if it's too difficult. I understand."
I waited, pushing the cold away. I never talked about her, not even with Claire and Max, and never, ever Callum. "I can give you the short version now. Maybe more another time. It's not something we talk about."
"Whatever you're comfortable with." She moved the back of her head under my chin, her whole body against mine, still both fully clothed.
"Our mum committed suicide after Callum was born. She'd suffered massive post-natal depression after Claire, and probably me, probably before. Max and I woke up one day with no sign of her around," I took a deep breath, knowing Vanessa could feel how tense I was. "We played outside, got out our own breakfast but by lunchtime we needed Mum. She was in bed, so sound asleep. Claire was lying next to her, talking to her and trying to wake her up. She had Callum with her and had tried to change him and had fed him. Mum had made up a load of bottles before."
Vanessa said nothing, just turned around and moved up the bed, holding me, pulling my head into her chest as if she knew I couldn't look at her.
"She'd taken pills. Her friend was due round just after lunch, the cleaner should've been round early on, but she'd not arrived because her daughter had gone into early labor. Our mum had planned everything for us to be looked after, including letters for all of us apologizing. We didn't see ours until we were old enough and Marie had spoken to us so much about it when we needed to talk," I said, ignoring the wet that came from my eyes.
"I'm sorry, Jackson," she said, holding me. "I want to say that your mum loved you, which I know she did. And I want to say that it wasn't your fault, because it wasn't, and you know that. Mental health, which we all have, is a complex entity and I don't want to try to compartmentalize and explain it because I can't. Just know that although none of us can understand – both her and what you went through – I empathize and know what it's like to lose a parent. And I'm glad you've trusted me enough to tell me." She kissed the top of my head, wrapping herself around me fully and I let my eyes close, leaning into her and knowing that as much as I wanted to protect and defend her, she would do the same for me.
***
After a great weekend, one that had left me feeling as if nothing could bowl me over, Monday morning provided its usual storm of flying feces. It began with a reporter contacting me just after I'd got to my desk after working whatever emotional residue had been left at the office gym. It was one I'd known for a few years, having supplied her with information on a dodgy supplier of goods who was known to the opposition some years ago. Jeanne and I had gone out for drinks and I'd acted the part of a possessive boyfriend when her rather nasty ex-had crawled out of his cesspit. Every so often we'd met up, always platonic.
"Jackson," she said. "I've had a tip-off. Or rather, one of my colleagues did, but passed it over to me."
"And you want to check its validity?" I said. "Interesting. Go on."
"Katie Worthington. She was being beaten by her ex. We've been given photos – they were scanned in and sent from a random Gmail account. I'll forward it to you, but as far as I'm concerned this could be evidence used in court and publishing it could jeopardize any outcome," Jeanne said.
"And your morally adept compass is pointing which way?" I said, feeling slightly twitchy, but unsurprised. Shit like this was going to happen all the way through Claire's case.
"They were sent to Louisa Hoffman, whose ex is currently serving time for abusing his wife. She will deny all knowledge of receiving them, as will I, if some scumbag needs prosecuting. If that's not going to happen, I'd rather have your assurance for the story when it's available before any other publication," Jeanne said, giving nothing else away. I knew the score and was happy to abide by it. We had a good relationship and she was a good person, not like some journalists who could be nothing short of piranha-like.
"Done," I said, knowing the full extent of what I was agreeing to. "Don't know how those images are going to be used yet, or if our client is pressing charges. Clearly, we have a leak in the office. Any identification on the email?"
"Yes. Vanessa Moore. There's an offer of more information if money is sent to an account, the details of which will be given if we respond to the email. In all honesty, Jackson, the pictures could be found via other sources. Alan Lacey's been linked with assault on his partner before, this is just a picture we haven't seen and could be attributed to Katie having surgery," Jeanne said. "The sender might not be from your office, but the email does say that Callaghan Greene are acting for Katie Worthington with regards to her divorce. I know Vanessa Moore is behind your upcoming marketing campaign and your dad's ball. I've met her a few times and this does not seem like something she'd pull."
"It isn't. But I think I know who it might be. Can you forward me the email?" I could feel anger knotting in my chest, the exercise in the gym now negated completely.
"Sure. But you must promise to give me a story or the hook for one when this is done. Especially if I can nail Alan Fucking Lacey to the wall. He's the scum of the earth and should be sent down for something," Jeanne said, hatred in her voice.
"You know I'll do what I can. In the meantime, if you catch him with any other women let me know," I said as the email pinged through.
"Will do. Let's catch up soon. I need to bitch, moan and whine about life in general."
"I'll bring Claire. She's got that down to a fine art," I said, opening the email and looking at the forwarding address and the time it was sent: Friday night at nine-thirty pm. I said goodbye to Jeanne and locked my computer, heading to find Max.
His response was what I expected. "Hand it over to IT," he said. "Get them to look at what was scanned in after work on Friday. We know who it is: who else would put Van's name in it and we know it's not her as she was drinking with us at Dad's."
"She wouldn't do this anyway," I said, anger eating into me. "I can't be involved in it. If it's Kirsty, I can't be trusted to not say something unprofessional."
Max nodded. "Hand it over to IT and HR. We'll get her off the premises pending investigation as soon as we've evidence that she scanned that picture. Go do what you need to. I'll see Gino." Gino was our IT guy, a tattooed biker who would lift weights with us and keep our systems secure and working efficiently. He also had the patience of a saint when PCs didn't work and had learned to avoid telling the associates and secretaries to switch it on and off again. He followed me out of his office, ignoring Seph who was just making his way in.
"What's up with you two?" our youngest brother asked. "He looks like he's on his way to war and you look ready to start a battle."
"You'll find out soon enough. How's your diary today?" I said, trying to take my mind off Kirsty and the shit storm she could've created. There was the worry that she would've sent the photo to other papers, which meant we were playing a waiting game to see if anyone else got in touch with us. If so, we'd have to take out an injunction, which wouldn't be a problem. The next issue would be letting Claire know.
"Morning!"
I turned around to see Kirsty arrive, all smiles and over-styled hair.
"Do you want me to run out and get you coffee, Jackson?" she said when I didn't respond.
"No, I don't." I walked into my office and slammed the door.
Forty-five minutes later Max walked into my room and sat himself down. "It's sorted," he said. "She's gone."
I nodded, feeling relief, my shoulders sagging. "That was quick."
"She wasn't sophisticated. She took the picture from Claire's office on Friday night. The security cameras picked her up after she fobbed in. She saved the image to her account and didn't delete it thoroughly. The Gmail account was set up purposely to send the email out to three journos. Claire's threatened the other two with an injunction already – she's fuming by the way, so expect that fall out at some point. It might be an idea to get Killian in so she can at least take her temper out on him, seeing as he's immune to her wrath. I've sacked Kirsty, gone over the non-disclosure and confidentiality agreements that she signed and the ramifications of what she's done. She's in flood of tears, begging to see you and saying some vile shit about Vanessa, but she won't do any more damage," Max said. "Not bad for before ten o'clock on a Monday morning."
I tipped my head back and let the breath I'd been holding fill the room. "Thank you."
Max shook his head. "Not a problem. I quite enjoyed that. Let's me exercise that nasty side I have. How's your lovely lady since the weekend?"
The grin was automatic, then faded as I remembered the previous evening and what I'd told her. "We talked about Mum."
"Mum as in Rachael?"
"Mum as in Rachael."
"Did you tell her everything?"
"Yes, but not in detail. She hasn't read the letter and I've not said what Rachael was like before, but I didn't leave anything major out," I said, acutely aware of Max's reaction. We talked about Mum, but never how it had made Max feel. I'd always thought he would at some point tell us what he'd gone through, but it had never come. He'd just been there for me and Claire, taking his big brother back seat.
"Is she the first person you've told?"
"Yes," I said. "I've never wanted or needed to tell anyone else. She was good. She didn't try to understand, she was just, Vanessa, I suppose."
"And she's moving in?"
I nodded. "She hasn't got cold feet about it yet. We've talked a lot about it. It's a big thing for both of us."
He scratched his head, looking twitchy. "I'm pleased for you, Jacks. I like her. I think she's right for you."
"But?"
"What do you mean?"
"There was a but there. Spit it out, Maxwell."
He let out a long sigh. "It's a sea-change. You're the first to have a relationship that looks serious and adult. Do you love Vanessa?"
I hadn't told her yet and I knew I should, but I didn't know how. The words weren't there. I could probably write them up in a contract and outline them with clauses about how I would treat her and what I would give for her, but I didn't know how to say them simply. "Yes."
"Congratulations. I'm happy for you. Payton mentioned something about a house-warming for you at some point, just so you're warned," he said. "I'll have your balls presented to Vanessa then in a case, because let's face it, she's going to be the one who owns them." He grinned and all felt right again.