Thursday January 23rd

 

There was one promise that Kian had kept from their weekend away. He’d texted Cate that morning and asked if she was free to meet him for lunch.

As she showered, she tried to temper down the excitement that was rippling through her body. She didn’t want to get her hopes up just in case he cancelled again.

After they’d been to the spa but before her ill-fated flirtation with absinthe, Remy had insisted on taking Cate shopping. For once, she’d actually welcomed her older sister’s bossiness; it was the kick up the proverbial backside she’d so desperately needed.

She realised that she’d been wallowing for too darn long in the role of neglected wife. The painful truth was that if she didn’t like what she saw when she looked in the mirror, it was nobody else’s fault but her own.

She was extremely fortunate. Thanks to Kian’s successful football career, they had more than enough money if she wanted to go shopping and treat herself to something other than books. The children were all at school now and she had Nate to help out with the school run and co-ordinating all of their after-school activities. She had time to do all of those little things that made her feel feminine and sexy like getting her hair trimmed or painting her toenails.

She realised that she wasn’t so different from Layla and Kian. Just like them, she was fighting against a label she hadn’t asked for. When they’d first got married, Kian was a Premier League footballer with Manchester Rovers and a first-choice central midfielder for England. As his partner, that made Cate a WAG. She might have only been eighteen and fresh out of sixth-form college but she wasn’t completely naïve. She’d heard what her brother and her sisters’ boyfriends had said about the wives and girlfriends of professional footballers. They were either page three fantasies to ogle over in their bras and panties or they were hateful figures, vacuous bimbos completely to blame if their husband or boyfriend didn’t perform well enough on the pitch.

Although Kian had tried his best to protect her, it had still felt like she was being attacked from all angles. Just when she was supposed to be trying to figure out who she really was, she’d been shoved into a box marked ‘WAG’. Yes, she was married to a professional footballer but she was never going to be a page three fantasy; her boobs were too small and her legs were too skinny and she still sometimes got embarrassed when Kian saw her in her bra and panties never mind millions of strangers. But she wasn’t a vacuous bimbo either; she’d got straight A grades in her A Levels and before she’d found out that she was pregnant with Lola, she’d had offers from several top universities.

So, just like she’d rebelled as a teenager against her mum’s disapproval by hiding her stash of romance novels in her wardrobe and only painting her toenails, she’d rebelled against being a WAG by keeping her inky-black hair in the same style, falling to just below her breasts and buying her clothes from the same high-street stores she’d always shopped in. Kian didn’t mind, like he’d said up at the cabin, the only thing he really cared about her clothes was how easy they were to take off. So the only thing she’d ever really splurged on was lingerie, which was just for her and Kian.

But she sometimes wondered what she’d have been like if she hadn’t got married and pregnant at such a young age. She’d never really cared for fashion but was that her choice or was it her mum’s influence? Would she have changed if she’d gone to university and moved away from home?

She took one of the dresses she’d bought on the shopping trip with Remy out of the wardrobe. It was a pale-grey sweater dress which fell down to mid-thigh. It was made from the softest wool. She paired it with thick, black tights because hello, it was still freaking Seattle in January and a pair of black thigh-high boots.

When she looked at herself in the mirror, she couldn’t stop smiling. She felt like all of the jigsaw pieces which made up the puzzle of her life were falling into place.

It was like the lyrics of one of Remy’s favourite songs. She could be a bitch, a mother, a child, a lover, a sinner and a saint. She didn’t have to pick and choose between them; she could be all of them all at the same time.

She wished that she could go back in time and tell her eighteen year old self that she didn’t have to try so hard to confound other people’s expectations. It didn’t mean that just because she got her hair cut, wore bright lipstick or bought herself a cute dress that she was a vacuous bimbo.

“Wow, look at you,” Nate whistled when she came down the stairs.

“It’s not too much?” Cate adjusted the neckline which had slipped down her shoulder a little.

“Stop fidgeting,” Nate smiled, “you look fantastic.”

Cate looked at her watch, “yikes, is that the time? I’d better go. I should be home about five o’clock, depending on the ferry. You haven’t forgotten that Sierra’s got a playdate with Sofia this afternoon?”

Nate rolled his eyes good-naturedly, “nope, I haven’t forgotten.”

“Go,” he gave her a playful swat on the butt, “enjoy your lunch.”

As she watched the ferry boat come into dock, she saw a stray plastic bottle bobbing up and down on the waves just beneath the pier and she thought about how Mateo would be so upset if he saw it. He was so passionate about the Sound that he really hated seeing litter either in the water or on the surrounding rocks.

He was also really into recycling and he had a pencil case which had been made out of an empty plastic bottle.

She liked the idea that nothing was permanent. You could start off life as a plastic bottle and then become a pencil case and maybe after that, you could become something else entirely. She’d been a book nerd, a WAG, a teen mum, a university student and a Stepping Out contestant. Kian had been a playboy footballer and now he was a successful businessman with a family.

One of the things she was most grateful for was that even though she’d been really young when they’d got married, even though society had tried to shove her into a box marked ‘WAG,’ Kian had never participated in that. Instead, he’d done his best to make sure that she’d had the freedom to continue growing as a person. He’d protected her and Lola from the spotlight for as long as he could. He’d always supported her one hundred percent in whatever she decided to do whether it was going to university or talking openly about her battle with prenatal depression.

 

Kian was waiting for her when she arrived in the lobby of the building.

“Hey,” Cate’s black eyes lit up when she saw him.

“Hey,” Kian fought hard to control his reaction. His desire for Cate never waned, whether she was wearing baggy flannel or silky French lingerie but he had to admit that there was something about seeing his wife’s gorgeous, long legs in those thigh-high boots that made his blood pump that much faster.

He brushed his lips over her cheek. “You look gorgeous, angel.”

“Thank you,” Cate blushed. “So do you.”

He placed a hand on the small of her back and guided her out of the building. “I thought we could go to Giovanni’s?”

“That sounds perfect,” Cate smiled.

It was a cold, crisp day, making the black wires that criss-crossed above the streets look that much starker against the pale grey sky.

When they got to Giovanni’s, Kian held the door open for Cate. After Serafina had fussed over them for the requisite amount of time, she led them to a quiet table towards the back.

“Can I get you anything to drink?”

Kian had several meetings that afternoon so they ordered a couple of Cokes.

“Temptress,” he gulped as Cate shrugged off her black wool coat. Her jumper slipped down, exposing that delicious curve between her neck and shoulder.

“One of the assistant coaches at Rovers, the first day back after summer, he used to make us run laps around the training pitch until we either gave up or collapsed. He said it was to test our fitness levels but looking back, I think he was just a sadistic bastard who enjoyed seeing a group of apprentices puking their guts up. I was determined that he wasn’t going to beat me though and every damn year, I was the last one standing.”

He shook his head. “I thought running all those fucking laps was a challenge but you look so sexy right now it’s taking all of my goddamn willpower not to just take you right here in the middle of Giovanni’s.”

Cate blushed again. “Do you want me to ask if we can get the food to take away?”

“If I stood up right now,” Kian grunted, “I’d be arrested for public indecency.”

Cate changed the subject. “What did you and Ben eventually decide to do about that opportunity in Detroit?”

“We passed on the deal,” Kian took a gulp of his soda. “With Miles already sniffing around, it would most likely have ended up in a bidding war and that would have seriously cut into our profit margin.”

As they walked back to the office, Kian was recognised by a group of tourists from Stockport. They were spending a few days in Seattle sightseeing before embarking on an Alaskan cruise.

“Would you mind taking our photo, love?” A balding man with round glasses asked. In his navy-blue fleece with the collar pulled up, he reminded her of the character, Penfold from the animated TV series, Danger Mouse.

“Sure, no problem,” Cate took the phone from his outstretched hand.

They squeezed around Kian, determined to make sure that they were all in the shot. He looked so uncomfortable; passers-by kept turning around and looking at him, wondering what was so special that all these people wanted to take a selfie with him? It was such a long time since he’d been mobbed like this.

Cate tried to take the photo as quickly as she could.

“Are you OK?” she asked, squeezing his arm as they escaped into the tourist-free sanctuary of the lobby.

“Yeah,” Kian reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear. “How about you? I hated that they just pushed you to one side like that.”

“It’s OK, really,” Cate insisted. “That’s what happens when you’re married to the great Kian Warner. I’m used to it.”

Kian frowned, “you shouldn’t have to get used to it. I’m nothing special, just a regular bloke.”

“Hey,” it was Cate’s turn to frown. “You’re special to me, OK. What happened out there was no big deal, honestly. At least they didn’t ask you to sign their boobs or grab your crotch. Plus, it really helps improve my camera technique because heaven forbid, I give them back their phone and the photo is slightly blurry.”

“I love you, angel.”

Cate rubbed her nose up against his, “I love you too.”

He still looked grumpy so Cate added, “I tell you what, since you like these boots so much…” Kian’s eyes dropped down to her legs. “If you manage to make it home before midnight tonight, I’ll wear them for you in the bedroom.”

Kian gulped. Cate leaned forward and gently nipped his earlobe, “and just so we’re clear, I’ll only be wearing them, nothing else.”

“Temptress,” Kian grunted.

Cate laughed, “I’ll see you at home.”

 

That night, Kian was leaving the office and when he stepped into the lift, Bram was there. “Hm,” Bram teased. “You don’t normally wear your overcoat when you’re going down to the lobby for coffee so dare I say it, is Kian Warner actually leaving the office at a reasonable hour? No, it can’t be. Should I insist you go straight to the emergency room? You clearly must have a concussion or something.”

“Ha ha,” Kian rolled his eyes at his friend’s good-natured teasing. “We both know that you work just as many hours as I do.”

“True,” Bram nodded, “but the difference is that I don’t have a lovely wife and family to go home to.”

Kian frowned and Bram chuckled, “would you rather I said that Cate wasn’t lovely, that she was actually grotesque and shrewish?”

“I’d rather you didn’t say anything at all about my wife.”

“You’re too easy to wind up, Kian. Does the fact that you’re leaving the office before midnight for once have something to do with your recent weekend away?”

“It’s none of your business but yes, Cate and I talked and like I said to you before, she understands.”

“I see,” Bram still looked sceptical and Kian wondered what his friend knew that he didn’t. He didn’t like feeling out of the loop.

“By the way,” Bram reached for his phone from the inside of his jacket pocket. “Did you see today’s Seattle Insider? There’s a photo of you and you’re not-so-lovely wife.”

The main headline on the tawdry gossip site was about Miles Hardy’s rumoured affair with Amber de la Fuentes. Bram scrolled down the page until he’d found the photo of Amber, Miles, Kian and Cate. It must have been taken at Miles’ Christmas party because Cate was wearing that insanely sexy red dress and ABEs. When he looked again at Amber, he recognised her as one of the bitches who’d thought that they were superior to Cate because they had their own careers.

“Look at the caption,” Bram prompted.

They were described as “Kian Warner and wife.”

Kian clenched his fists inside the pockets of his overcoat. It was just a single caption on a stupid website but coupled with what he’d witnessed this afternoon when they’d been accosted by the tourists from Stockport, it made him blisteringly angry. Cate was a goddamn shining star in her own right - there were an infinite number of words to describe her which were far more honest and eloquent than just “wife.” She wasn’t and never had been just his appendage. He hated watching her get shoved aside just because he’d once played professional football.

“And now he gets it,” Bram chuckled.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Bram called over his shoulder as he walked across the lobby to the twenty-four hour coffee shop.

When they’d first got married, although he hadn’t been a saint, Kian had never been in a real relationship before and so he hadn’t been very good at expressing himself with words, preferring instead to use his body to show Cate how he felt about her.

He realised as he climbed into the Tank that the opposite was true now. He told her that he loved her as often as he could but they were just empty words, he needed to show her how he truly felt.

The romantic weekend at the cabin had been supposed to give them the opportunity to talk through their problems and although they were in a much better place than they had been, he realised now that they’d spent a lot of time talking about his feelings, about why the company was so important to him, and they’d neglected to talk about Cate.

The puzzle pieces fell into place as he thought about the things she’d said to him recently, when she’d accused him of only needing her for her various body parts and to be a mother to his children. He’d meant what he’d said during their post-absinthe phone call when he’d said that he was lucky that he got to be Cate’s husband. He respected the hell out of her but he needed to show her that.

As he sat in traffic, he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and a plan began to formulate in his mind.