Jason strapped Joshua into his highchair. “Yes. The weather is set to hold all day. You’ve wanted to take Joshua to the seaside for weeks. I’m not playing golf today and, for once, nothing is in the diary.”
“I’ve stuff to do.” Tying the bib on Joshua, I handed the child a plastic spoon and awaited the inevitable mess.
Jason stepped back, keeping his distance from the bowl, which had been known to be sent spinning across the room. “Stuff? You mean lists for your gallery, which is months away from opening.”
“It doesn’t feel like months. I’ve things to read through. Website layouts and content to review. I’m seeing the designer tomorrow and....” I caught sight of Jason’s frown; he’d moved into the kitchen area.
Standing by the sink, he waved me over. My mouth stopped itself at his expression—a face I didn’t ignore. I stepped closer to him and, when in reach, he grabbed my arm and pulled me opposite him.
“I can’t believe what a fuss you are making, given the sulk you put on when I told you couldn’t go previously. That gobby mouth of yours doesn’t know what’s good for it. I’m expecting a delighted wife, and I get a miserable spoilsport. Look out the window. It’s glorious out there. You, who loves open spaces, wants to be cooped up indoors with your lists.”
I glowered, unappreciative of his comments, because he hadn’t budged on his Saturday routine, and there had been plenty of good weather Saturdays, all of which he had ignored.
My pent-up frustrations at his sudden desire to rearrange my time bubbled over. “You’re denigrating what I have to do. Making it sound trivial. You’ve screwed up my day royally.”
I’d hit his anger button. He narrowed his eyes to slits and lowered his voice. “I give you free rein with your work ambitions. Remind me, what is your primary responsibility?” He invoked the rules. I didn’t stand a chance.
I conjured up the list of words we’d agreed to respect. “Our son.” I could hardly ignore the child banging his spoon on his tray. I glanced over my shoulder, and Joshua grinned at me, babbling away with his childish speech as if he wanted to join in our heated debate. How could I resist him?
“I’m...sorry, Sir.” I turned back to Jason. “I would love to go to the seaside.”
He’d pissed me off, though, and I continued to resent the suddenness of his decision. My contriteness lacked the necessary conviction to convince my Dominant.
“What’s with the attitude?” He looped his fingers through my hair, tugging on my scalp, and I flinched.
“I’m struggling with obedience. I would’ve liked to have a say in how we spend the day.” Or rather I would like to tell him how to spend his day. “My leisure time is my own,” I reminded him.
“Your leisure time is. But there is very little you anymore, while Joshua is awake, and especially not at the weekends. Take my word for it, once your gallery is about to open and you’re busy running it on a daily basis, you’ll miss days like this. The guilt will eat into you. Think about him. What happened to wanting to spend time with your son? Joshua will start calling Clara Mummy soon.”
His comment hit way below the belt, “Or Daddy!” I snapped, going for broke with him.
His eyes narrowed further, hiding the sharp blueness. His hand remained tangled in my hair, creating the physical connection he needed when he stepped up his resolve to match mine. “This is about Saturdays, isn’t it?”
I couldn’t pull away from him. He kept me captive, and my nose hovered inches away from his chin. I wanted distance between us, but he wouldn’t countenance it. I ramped up my annoyance in reply. “Yes, of course it is. You’ve never budged a jot on your schedule, even with Joshua. Where does Josh fit in for you, Jason? When you wish?”
“There are plenty of fathers who see less of their children than I do. Don’t play the injured party with regard to my time with Joshua. You are the one baulking at spending the day with him.”
Behind me, Joshua shrieked, but I held Jason’s attention, keeping my gaze focused on his eyes. “I am not baulking. I would have liked to be involved in the decision.”
“Which means you prevaricate and decide to do your own thing.”
The argument went nowhere. He implied I was indecisive and uninterested in spending time with my son. Or my husband. Not true. I wanted to be with Jason all the time. Then it struck me what was really bothering me. He gave Joshua his time more than me at the weekends. Maybe not the crucial Saturday afternoon work session, but the mornings he swam with Joshua in the pool and on Sundays, he would spend hours pl
aying with Joshua on the floor of the snug, the garden, or Joshua’s bedroom. Even his beloved golf was infrequent. I would be the one doing other things: painting, gardening, or chatting on the phone to my relatives or friends. He was a good father, and I was the rubbish mother.
I burst into tears.
“What?” Jason let go of my hair, and his eyes widened again. I’d surprised both of us with my emotional outburst.
He drew me into his arms, and even Joshua fell quiet. I blubbered and explained I missed Jason’s company and perhaps was jealous of my own son.
“You are mixed up,” he said with a snort. “I fuck you regularly, and you still want more of me. You’re not selfish but burdened with too many contradictory emotions waging war in your head. All the more reason to take a break. I bloody well need one after my shitty week of work. Pack a bag of things for Joshua. We’re going to Brighton. Understood?”
He was right. I needed a timeout. “Yes, Master.” I used kitchen roll to wipe my nose and eyes. As I swung past him, he gave my bottom a playful slap with his palm. I returned the gesture with a wriggle of my behind. The tension between us eased.
We were destined to have a grand day out in Brighton, the three of us. No nanny or protection officers escorting us. We would look like any ordinary family rolling up by the promenade in our Range Rover, armed with the buggy, a bucket, and spade. During the drive south, my mood lifted. I decided to put a CD of nursery rhymes in the carousel to entertain Joshua, and Jason slapped my hand away.
“No, you don’t. Sing something to him.”