“Would you like to meet my mum? She really wants to meet you and wants to come and visit.”
“Yeah I’d like that. What about your dad?”
“Nah, Sweet Lips, you don’t want to meet him. My mum though, she’s fantastic, you’ll love her and she already loves you because you’re making her a grandma.”
“Jimmy?”
“Yes, Mrs Davis.” God, I really love the fact that my surname is now hers.
“Why did it take you two weeks?”
I could give her some stupid bullshit excuse, but I won’t. I’m never going to lie to this woman. Withhold some facts, yes, but it’s for her protection.
“There was a shit storm in LA I had to meet with some people, see my dad, empty my flat and make some financial arrangements to protect you. It took longer than I thought and I’m sorry.”
All I get from her in reply is a nod. I don’t know whether she believes me or not, but I’m never leaving her side again for as long as I live and one of these days I’m going to have to tell Jenna about my shitty father. Yes, I came to live with him when I turned eighteen, but that was because my mum made me. If she hadn’t, I’d still be a busker in Covent Garden or something. Mum made sure my dad and I established some kind of relationship, but that doesn’t mean I want him anywhere near my wife and baby.
“You know, wifey, we need to decide if we’re going to tell people what we’re having.” I help her into the car and shut the door. When I get in, her hand automatically finds mine making me wonder just how serious she was about asking for a divorce. The only thing I know is that I never want to hear those words come out of her mouth again.
“Let’s keep it a secret.”
I bang my head against the headrest and look at her. She’s glowing, her hand rubbing her stomach. I lean over and kiss her before starting the car.
“Your wish is my command, Sweet Lips.”
I lean my head back on the headrest and turn my face toward the window. The afternoon sun shines through the window warming my face. My hand rests in Jimmy’s lap, our fingers locked together. His finger taps in beat with the song on the radio against the top of my hand. If this were weeks ago, I’d be looking at him and imagining what our child will look like; but it’s not and as much as I want to trust what he says, I can’t get over the suspicion that something is off.
I know I’m a fool for getting into the car with him. I caved when he turned on his British charm and wooed me into believing that everything is okay. He didn’t say I was overreacting though or that my hormones are getting me riled up and that concerns me. I’ve never been the jealous type. With Damien, my friends never let on that they were attracted to him or desired him in any way, but Jimmy? With him I know. I see the way other women look at him. The way they throw themselves at him expecting – and at some point – receiving attention in return. Is he going to be like that when he goes on stage the next time? Will he touch their faces, caressing them like he does me?
It can’t be easy changing who you are in the blink of an eye and that is what he did or should’ve done. I wasn’t kidding when I took my vows and I hope to God he wasn’t either. We may not be in love, but I want us to at least be faithful.
My lips curve into a smile when I feel his hand caress my stomach. My shirt lifts and his lips are there. Jimmy places kisses along my growing belly from one side to the other whispering words only the baby can hear. My fingers thread though his hair, my nails scraping softly along his scalp. In our short time together, I’ve learned that he loves this and that it turns him on.
My eyes remain shut. I feel like I’m dreaming and that when I wake up everything will be ugly again. Damien will be standing outside my window with the murderous look on his face, and next to Jimmy will be hoards of women claiming to be his mistresses. Keeping my eyes shut and my face toward the window is the best option for me right now. I want to relish in the attention he’s giving me before it goes away. Before my bubble is burst and some skinny girl shows up in Beaumont telling me that she’s been sleeping with my husband.
When his lips find mine, I close my eyes tighter and submit to him. He controls me, drives me to the brink with just the simplest of kisses. I wish my body would fight him, ward him off, but it craves him. My body desires his touch and it has since we first met a year ago when he came to Beaumont. How I ever made it without coming onto him before the wedding is beside me. Having him in my arms that one night was the result of years of therapy teaching me to love myself again. Helping me discover that Damien and his fist could no longer hurt me, control me. When Jimmy came to me that night, I knew what I was doing. I wanted a piece of him like every other woman his path had crossed. I was no different in that way. I took him and everything he was willing to give me in an empty room on a pool table. Our story is definitely one for the grandkids.
I cup his head, holding him to my lips. I want him to crawl on top of me and take me in the car. I’ve missed him and my need for him grows more urgent with each flick of his tongue against mine.
“Jimmy,” I say against his lips. My hand travels down his neck, over his chest and to his belt buckle. I tug, pulling it out of the loop on his jeans. I palm his hard on, squeezing gently and I’m rewarded with him biting down on my lip. He stills my hand and I squeeze again, letting my thumb brush up and down against his bulge.
“Wifey, you’re killing me. I’ve missed you so much, but right now we have somewhere to be.”
“Why’d you stop the car then?” I ask, opening my eyes for the first time and looking around. Is it too much to ask for a little backseat action? I know I’m pregnant, but I’m not above breaking the law if it means I can get freaky with my hot ass husband.
“Because we have plans and we’re here.” Jimmy looks out the window. I follow his gaze and realize we’re in a parking lot. I was so lost in my daydream that I wasn’t paying attention. Refusing to pay attention is more like it, but still the same nonetheless.
“What are we doing at the Beaumont Country Club?”
Jimmy shrugs. “Liam told me that we should meet him here.”
“Do you play golf?” What a stupid question for a wife to ask her husband, but it shows that we don’t know each other very well. “I really don’t want to sit in there while you play golf with Liam.”
“Sweet Lips, I doubt Liam plays golf or is even allowed on the course with his tattoos. Can you imagine someone telling him to cover them up?”
“No, not really. So why are we here?”
“I haven’t got the foggiest, let’s go find out.”