CHAPTER ELEVEN

Brooklyn

 

The next morning I woke up feeling dazed. I rolled over and smiled. My whole body felt good.

As I stood up, a happy smile on my face, I remembered why. Riley. I felt myself blush as I remembered how we had spent the evening previously. When I remembered what he had called me I felt my heart tense.

My dear. I wanted to whisper it, to shout it. I didn’t know why, but the words had seared their way into my heart. I think it was because what I felt for him was so sincere, so honest, that it really meant something to me.

I wandered around my bedroom, idly picking up clothes from the floor. How he’d managed to find all his without needing the light I didn’t know. Perhaps he was just more skilled at taking them off. I chuckled as I knelt down to retrieve my underwear from below the bed.

Thus organized, I went to shower. The shower had just been used, I noted absently—it still smelled of shower gel and the floor was damp. I went to the cabinet and found a note pasted on the front.

“Gone out to the garage,” he said. “Be back this evening. See you.”

I smiled as I peeled the Post-it from the mirror. He had thought to leave a note, which was sweet of him. He could just have gone out—I knew he was working.

It must be later than I thought it was.

To my surprise, when I reached the kitchen, it was nine thirty. I tiptoed up the stairs to see if Parker was awake yet.

“Mommy!”

She launched herself at me, dressed in jeans and a small pink cardigan. I lifted her up, straining with the effort and she laughed as I kissed her hair.

“Sweetie,” I said, grinning. “How long have you been awake?”

“Not long,” she said. I instantly felt bad. What kind of a mother was I? Fast asleep while my only daughter starved for want of breakfast?

“Come on,” I said harshly. “Let’s go and eat something. Hell. It’s late. I don’t know what’s wrong with me!”

As I berated myself on the way down the stairs, drawing Parker ahead of me like a tugboat, I saw her shoulders droop. From the cheerful, excited girl she became a grim statue, every line of her tense and alert. My heart sank.

“Sweetie?” I said when we were both in the kitchen. “What’s up?”

“You sound like you used to,” she said sadly. “It’s been so nice.”

I stared. “How do you mean, sweetie?” I asked gently.

“I mean…” she wrung her hands in her skirt and I remembered she was only eight, after all. Asking her to explain such a big concept wasn’t exactly fair.

“It’s okay,” I said quickly, reaching for the milk and some dishes. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“I want to,” she said. “You…you were happy. Now you’re all mad like you used to be. Like when Daddy…” her face crumpled. “You always fought. I hated it!”

She was sitting at the table, and her elbows rested on it, her face covered by her two hands. Her little shoulders shook as she cried tears too big for any child. I felt my heart twist into a knot.

I came and sat down beside her. Put my hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I’m so, so sorry.”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t help,” she said, muffled. “I’m all sad. It doesn’t make it better.”

I sighed. I realized then how hard it had been for her, those years with Richard. It was bad enough for me being emotionally tortured. How much worse was it for her? Not only did she hear and see those ugly scenes between us—she also had to deal with my shutting down. And my moods.

I spent the last few years just going through the motions.

I hadn’t really interacted with Parker. I had focused on trying to be a “good mother”—in Richard’s opinion, that consisted of changing sheets, making packed lunch, washing clothes. I couldn’t actually remember the last time Parker had actually talked to me; a real heart-to-heart conversation. In the few days Riley had been here, everything had changed. He talked to her as a matter of course—played with her, joked with her. And I was happy.

“I’m sorry,” I said again, and this time I knew what I was sorry for. “I’m sorry for not being there. For not spending time with you. For being distracted. I love you, Parker. I really do.”

She looked up at me, blinking. “I love you too, Mommy,” she said. She reached up and put her arms round my neck and I held her tightly to me. We must have stayed like that, her small, fragrant head on my shoulder, for about a minute. When I finally let go I was crying too.

“Parker,” I said softly. “I promise. I’m not ever going to be like that.”

Parker regarded me with solemn eyes. “Good,” she said.

I grinned. “That’s the spirit.”

We sat quietly for a while until I remembered we hadn’t eaten breakfast yet. I stood and went over to the cupboard, fished out the cereal and put on the kettle.

“Is Riley working?” Parker asked as she poured out our cereal and I busied myself with drinks. Coffee for me, cocoa for her.

“Yes,” I nodded. “He left a note in the bathroom. He’ll be back before dinner.”

“Will he make it again?” Parker asked. I laughed.

“I think we’ll give him a rest. What do you think?”

She nodded. “We’ll cook tonight. Then he cooks tomorrow.”

I let out a guffaw. “I think, Parker, you have a very good idea.”

She looked smug. “I like having good ideas.”

I chuckled and came to join her at the table. “Well, that’s good. And yes, we can cook tonight. Got any ideas?”

Parker put her head on one side, thinking about it.

“Fish pie?”

I swallowed hard. That was the thing I hadn’t made for ages. I was surprised Parker remembered it. Making it again would be a challenge. It was the right time now.

“Okay,” I said.

“Whee!”

We finished breakfast and decided we would spend the day at home—just the two of us: making jigsaws, painting our nails, having fun. As I settled down on the carpet with her in the sitting room, a jigsaw spread out on the floor between us, I realized it had been far too long since I did this.

“An’ I get to do the part with the cat’s face.” Parker said stubbornly.

“If you like,” I shrugged. “The bit with the window’s better.”

“Is it?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Can I do it?”

I laughed. “You said you wanted the cat’s face.”

She stuck out her tongue and we both giggled. As it was, she did the cat’s face and helped me with the window. My heart swelled with warmth and pride. I was so happy, sitting here with thoughts of Riley and the presence of my daughter.

Downstairs, the phone rang. I was about to say we should leave it, when Parker frowned at me.

“Is it him?”

Riley. I frowned at her. “Maybe. I’ll check.”

I sighed, dusted the carpet strands off my slacks and went to answer it. It wasn’t Riley. It was Leonora, asking me if I was going to be on the Parent’s Association. I said no. She agreed too.

“…it takes up so much time,” she complained. “With work as it is, I hardly see my Stella!”

I nodded. “I agree. I’m fed up with it.”

“Yeah!”

We chatted then hung up. I went upstairs to find Parker making another puzzle.

“Will Riley stay here long?” she asked me as she carefully studied the picture. It was a scene of sky and sea and much harder than the previous one. She was already further than I would have expected.

“Um…I don’t know,” I said. I reached for two pieces that looked as if they fit. They didn’t.

“I hope so,” Parker said, stealing a piece I’d been about to lift. She studied it and decided it didn’t match up, gave it back.

“I’m glad you do,” I nodded. I was. My mind had been turning itself in circles this morning. Wondering if, maybe, it would be possible for Riley to stay here. My heart was hesitant. Even though the time convinced me he was not like Richard, I wasn’t willing to risk it.

“Got one!” she said, slotting pieces together with a grin. I laughed.

“You’re good at this.”

“I want to beat Stella.”

I laughed. “You didn’t show me your Santa Claus picture,” I remembered. She chuckled.

“I’ve packed it. So on the first day at school I can show Stella. She’ll be cross!”

I chuckled. “Well, that’s good.” At the thought of Parker returning to school, I felt sad. I was glad I’d chosen to spend today with her, though—at least now I’d have memories of really good quality time together.

“It doesn’t fit,” she said crossly, setting aside a blue piece.

“Can I see?” I thought it might be the piece missing from my side. I held out a hand.

“Sure.” She passed it to me.

“It looks like this missing piece,” I said, frowning as I tried to fit it in. “But it isn’t.”

“What about this one?” she passed me one.

“Oh! This looks right.” I clicked it in. “Thanks, sweetie.”

She cleared her throat but before she could answer the phone rang again.

“Is it Riley?” she asked.

I sighed. “I’ll go see.”

I went downstairs and answered the phone. It wasn’t Riley. It was my aunt.

“Hi, Aunt Sheena.”

“Hello, dear,” she said warmly. “I hope you had a wonderful Christmas?”

“I did, Aunt. I really did.” I wanted to say: I had the best Christmas ever, but that would have aroused comment. So I didn’t. I just smiled.

“Oh, I’m really glad,” Sheena drawled. “But dear, would you still have room for me?”

I closed my eyes. The attic was the only spare bedroom. And at the moment, it was occupied.

“Um, that’s a bit tricky, Aunt Sheena. How long did you want to stay for?” my mind was already blazing ahead, wondering if Leonora might have something she could offer Auntie for a few days.

“Oh,” she said. She didn’t sound cross. “Not to worry, dear—I didn’t mean to stay. I just meant to come and visit for a few hours. Bring presents, see Parker too. I haven’t seen her for years, you know!”

“I know,” I nodded. I breathed out heavily. I loved Auntie Sheena, my mother’s only sister, but I couldn’t put her up.

“Well then,” Sheena said carefully. “I can’t say exactly when. You’re off until next week, yes?”

“That’s right,” I said guardedly. I wasn’t sure if I wanted Auntie Sheena arriving right in the middle of my time with Parker.

“Okay,” she sounded cheerful. “Well, it’ll definitely be sometime in the next week. I’ll let you know a day in advance. Is that okay?”

“Yes, yes.” I nodded. “It’s great. Good to hear from you.”

“Okay. Nice to hear from you too, dear. I should go now.”

“Okay. See you soon. Bye!”

“Bye, dear. Bye-bye.”

I hung up. I closed my eyes. The thought of having to explain my current situation to Sheena was hard. I hadn’t actually told anyone I knew yet. I kind of hoped, I think, that no one would visit within the next six months and so no one would find out. It was silly, I knew. Sometimes I’d need to say something.

“What can I say?” I asked aloud.

I had no idea. The most obvious thing was to simply tell the truth. “This is Riley Robson. He’s staying here while he gets his business organized.” That was the truth. I just hadn’t mentioned the fact that we were legally connected.

“Mommy?” Parker said, appearing at the head of the stairs. “Was it him?”

“Riley? No.”

“Oh.” She looked less interested then, poised as if to head upstairs.

I chuckled. “It was Auntie Sheena. She says she’ll visit soon.”

“Hooray!” Parker always liked my aunt. She was a dramatic, lively person and she had a way of lightening things. Even when I’d been with Richard and miserable, the visits from Auntie Sheena could usually raise my mood.

“Are we going to finish that puzzle?” I asked.

“Hooray!” she said again. I laughed and followed her up.

We had finished the puzzle, painted our nails and just started deciding what to cook alongside pie when Riley came back.

“Hello!” he called from the hallway. “Where is everyone?”

“Here!” Parker said, appearing in the hallway. I laughed.

“Hello!” he said, bending down and lifting her into his arms. I sniffed, the happy giggles of my daughter and the tenderness on his face still getting to me the way they always did. “How was your day?”

“We had a fun day!”

“Good,” he said, swinging her up and putting her down. He was excited, I could see that. I was itching to ask him if he had news about the business, but he was chatting to Parker.

“And we made hairstyles and painted our nails. Isn’t it nice?” she asked, showing him her bright pink nails.

“Beautiful,” Riley nodded approvingly. “Did your mommy paint them?”

“She painted my right hand,” she informed him. “That’s harder to do yourself.”

I grinned. Riley nodded sagely and let her tell him about it: the colors we’d chosen, the designs, how a French Manicure worked.

When she moved on to come and investigate the potatoes I was boiling, I smiled at Riley.

“Hard day at work?”

He smiled. “Productive, actually.”

I could see that—he was wearing jeans and a brown shirt and he looked wired. Whatever had happened had been uplifting.

“You had good news?”

He nodded. “We did. How did you guess?”

“I can see it.”

While I chopped vegetables for the pie, he filled me in about the business. He and Brad were in touch with a franchiser, he explained. He was keen to sell them a franchise of his dealership. I frowned.

“You think there’s custom for another one here?”

He wet his lips. “I guess.”

“Well then.” I nodded. “Sounds good.”

“It does.”

I finished chopping things and found myself looking into wicked brown eyes. I glanced about the kitchen, checking my daughter wasn’t watching us. She was in the hallway again—I could hear her playing with something out there.

“Brooklyn,” he whispered.

“Riley.”

We kissed. His lips tasted like oranges—he must have eaten some earlier. I licked them, liking the taste, and he chuckled, then pulled me closer, his tongue exploring my mouth.

My body was heating up fast, my belly shivery with excitement. I wanted him so much. It was ridiculous, the rational part of my mind told me. I was in the kitchen with my eight-year-old in the hallway. I was behaving ridiculously.

The more sternly I tried to talk myself out of it, the more rebellion appealed to me.

When he leaned back our eyes were both sparkling.

“Wait,” I said. “We’re making supper.”

His eyes twinkled. “I have an appetite, but I don’t think supper will fix it.”

I flushed. “Riley Robson,” I said crossly, though I was grinning. “You are shocking.”

“No, I’m not.”

I laughed and went over to add my vegetables to the pot. We should be able to eat in half an hour, I informed him as I spiced the mixture. It was weird, but my mind still remembered how to cook this.

“Good,” he said, eyes warm. “I can’t wait much longer.”

His words clearly didn’t refer to supper alone and my palms grew damp. I shuddered deliciously and pretended I hadn’t understood him. Busied myself with the cooking.

After the pie was in I found myself feeling a bit anxious. This was where it had “gone wrong” last time. My mood shifted to being apprehensive and I started keeping myself busy, washing and putting things away.

“Do you think we should go with it?” Riley asked, surprising me.

“Go with it?”

“I mean, if the franchiser gets back to us. Do you think we should go for a franchise? Or make our own place?”

I frowned. “I think we should see,” I suggested. “See what he thinks—if there isn’t a good chance of success, he’s unlikely to sell you a place in the beginning. Right?”

“I guess.” Riley nodded.

“Well, if he says yes, I’d say yes too,” I continued, bending to check inside the oven. “I mean, having a name for the business—one that’s got a reputation already—that’s worth it.”

“Even if it costs more?”

“Yes,” I nodded.

“Thanks,” he said, slumping with relief. “That’s what I thought too.”

“Well, we’re right.”

It was only as the oven rang, breaking our focus, that I realized that Riley had done something else unique—valued my opinion.

If I was meant to start trusting people again, I think Riley was sent to make me do it. I bent down and lifted the pie carefully. It was golden and fragrant. I felt proud.

“Dinner!” Parker exclaimed, running into the kitchen. I laughed.

“I think you’re right, sweetheart. It’s finished!”

“Yay!”

The two of them were the kind of customers a restaurant proprietor dreamed of, I thought as they finished up their supper with compliments and sounds of evident enjoyment. The pattern hadn’t been licked off, but otherwise the plates were clean, I said, laughing.

“Well, give me time,” Riley observed. “The glaze makes the pattern harder to get at.”

We all laughed. I rinsed the plates and put them in the dishwasher. Parker excused herself and we were alone in the kitchen.

I sat down opposite Riley. He smiled at me.

“Brooklyn,” he said softly. “I feel so good. I really feel like…this could work.”

I nodded. “I also do.”

We sat quietly for a while, each lost in thought. The kitchen smelled of baking and I allowed myself to imagine a future in which I owned a restaurant, not far from the garage, and Riley lived with me.

“Riley…” I said.

“Yes?”

I looked away. “Nothing.”

How was I supposed to say what was in my heart? How do you go about asking someone with whom you have already signed a legal agreement to marry you?

“Hey,” he said gently. He reached across the table and his hand took mine. My heart skipped.

“Riley,” I whispered, a cautionary hiss. He chuckled.

“What?”

The hand on my wrist tightened and I felt myself drawn forward. I yielded to the touch of his mouth on mine, his lips gently grazing my own. I allowed the sensations to course through my and really felt the kiss, let it tingle inside of me.

That night when we went upstairs to bed, it was different. He leaned against the door, his eyes luminous as he watched me.

“Brooklyn,” he whispered gently.

“Mm?” My heart was thudding in my chest, making it difficult to hear. He was naked to the waist, and I couldn’t get enough of that sight.

“I want to spoil you,” he whispered. “Really spoil you.”

I shivered as he drew me into his arms. He kissed me, and as he did so, his hands moved down my back, stroking the cotton of my shirt and then reaching round for the buttons. He unfastened them one by one, and his mouth moved to my throat.

It was hard to stand still while he touched me, hard not to shake too hard as his lips moved down to my breasts. I felt his tongue probe the gap between them and then, very gently, his fingers moved round behind me and unfastened my bra.

I shivered as his lips clamped my nipple. He worked it gently, letting it stiffen as he sucked it. It was such a delicious feeling that I had to struggle not to cry out. Then, before I had any warning, he was taking off my jeans.

“Lie down,” he whispered to me. I nodded.

I went and lay down on the bed and he worked them down over my body. When he had me naked, he knelt on the bed beside me.

“Close your eyes,” he whispered.

I closed my eyes obediently. Then they flew open as he licked me down there. His tongue was smooth and warm, and it glided over my clit in a way that made me cry loudly.

He chuckled, and I instantly stopped making a noise. The sensation increased as he suckled at me, and I writhed and did my best not to cry aloud. My whole body shook, and then the sensation was too much.

The feeling raced through me, and I came.

I had never done that before. I heard him smile, and he licked me again. He lay down beside me.

He held me and then knelt up. Slid down between my legs. I was ready for him, and he slid inside me without my needing to guide him there.

We fit together perfectly. He rocked back and pushed in, rocked and pushed. I pushed against him and the sensation of him brushing the special spots inside me made me moan softly.

As we moved together, I felt myself coming closer and closer and I could hear him getting there too. His breath caught in his throat and he shivered, his body contorting as he pumped in me.

He collapsed onto my chest and I held him in my arms and he fell asleep.

We lay like that, warm despite the chill and I shivered and held him close.

My senses drowsed and I slept too. When I woke up, he had shifted so I lay on his chest. I snuggled closer. I looked up. His eyes were open.

He kissed my hair.

“Dear?” he whispered.

I smiled. “Yes, dear?”

“I don’t know what I should do,” he whispered.

“What you should do about what?” I whispered back.

“You see,” he said, and I could hear his smile in the darkness. “I have a difficulty.”

“Mm?” I asked sleepily. My heart was pounding and I smiled, too, knowing what he was going to say, just as he said it.

“You see, I know we have an agreement.”

“We do,” I said.

“And I know it says we’re only supposed to be…like this for six months.”

“Yes, quite.”

“Well,” he said, whispering into my hair. “I can’t hold to that anymore. I want more of you.”

I felt my insides melt. It was exactly the problem I’d been facing, that had been worrying me all day and, if I thought about it, every day. Since we did this.

“Well,” I said, “I hate to tell you this, but I don’t have an answer to that.”

“You don’t?”

“Yes. Because I have the same problem. And I haven’t figured out how to solve it either.”

He laughed, smiling down at me. “Well, I think we might have.”

“Well, we both have the same problem,” I began hesitantly.

“So it isn’t a problem anymore, is it?”

I laughed as he kissed my brow. “Exactly.”

We kissed.