Screw you too, p.10
Screw you too!, page 10
Craig eventually turns, dropping his head to my neck and nuzzling in close. He says nothing, but I feel his body begin to relax. “I love you,” I kiss his shoulder and feel his lips twitch against my bare skin. It’s a quick smirk but it’s better than nothing.
Reaching for the body wash, I create a lather in my hands and work it around his chest and back. Craig lifts his head from my neck and instead, presses his forehead to mine. He watches my movements, all the while remaining silent.
As I reach to turn the water off, Craig’s lips fuse with mine. He kisses me fiercely, possessively. There is a spark behind his eyes when he pulls away.
“I really want to hurt someone right now,” he confesses.
“I know,” I grin, not because he wants to exhaust himself in the ring and leave someone a bloody pulp. But because it’s the first hint of him coming back to himself.
“You never ran from it. From me.”
“And I never will,” I know what he’s hinting at. Not the time when I got majorly hormonal in my late pregnancy and thought he was dumping me, so I left him first—I still haven’t forgiven myself for that.
I never ran from him. From the real Craig. My Craig.
He has a temper, a fierce one. Hell, anyone who read my debut book can tell you that—or anyone who followed Michael’s court case for that matter.
There is a reason he fights in the ring, along with Jason and Dylan and a few others. It’s their way of venting that aggression, a healthy outlet, so to speak.
I’ve known about his temper long before we ever got together. It never frightened me. Craig would never do a damn thing to hurt me or the kids, he hasn’t got it in him. Outsiders, on the other hand, are another story.
I know who my man is. I know the worst things he had ever done, and I stay because I love him in spite of it. He’s mine, and that bastard that calls himself a father is to blame for all of this.
I’m surprised that Craig didn’t bludgeon him, though, I suspect Jason is to thank for my husband not being locked up right about now.
“You must be starving,” I hold his face in my hands, watching the warmth come back into his gaze.
“Not really—”
His stomach growls loudly.
“I know you might not want to, but you need to eat something.”
He sighs and rakes his fingers through his hair, “ok.”
“Go inside and dry off. I’ll be up soon,” Grabbing a towel, I wrap myself up and head to the kitchen.
CRAIG
All I want is for the bed to grow a mouth and swallow me whole.
I dry off and pull the covers back, I’m not in the mood for food but my stomach growling is telling Lottie another story, and I better not argue.
She comes upstairs with sandwiches and a cup of tea. Thank God she didn’t put the dinner on because trying to eat with the way my stomach is feeling right now is a chore in itself.
Lottie crawls behind me, splaying her legs open. As soon as I recline, her legs wrap around me like a python. She’s not about to let me go and, to be honest, I don’t want to move.
Everyone has this weird notion that I’m Lottie’s knight in shining armour. They think that she depends on me and that’s it. They’re wrong. Lottie is my personal security blanket. When shit hits the fan, she is the only one who I want to be near.
Even now, she knows that I don’t want to talk about what happened. Instead, of prying, she just lets me recline against her. Her arms and legs practically pin me in place once I’m done eating.
I can hear her heartbeat as I rest my head on her chest. She runs her fingers through my hair, and I melt to her touch.
I did this.
Me.
I started my own business. I got the girl of my dreams and made her my wife. I made three beautifully psychotic children with her. I built our house, and I worked my arse off for the life I have.
I did it all without William. I didn’t need a father.
I don’t need a father.
I have everything I could ever want.
The biggest part of my world is engulfing me as I lie here thinking about it.
Turning, I kiss her again, then nuzzle into my spot on her chest. She continues to play with the damp tufts of my hair and it’s remarkably relaxing. I’m feeling less vindictive already.
Perhaps Tilly is more like me after all?
“I have a dream, I hope will come true,” I don’t know why but the lava song is stuck in my head right now. Lottie knows it immediately and joins in.
“That you’re here with me, and I’m here with you.”
I can’t help the dopey smile that crosses my face.
“I lava you!” Lottie screeches, and the smile turns into fully-fledged laughter. “If I knew it was that easy to cheer you up, I would have sung it as soon as you came through the door!”
I crawl up to kiss her. “I love you, baby.”
“I love you too, Batman.”
“You’re lucky you’re pretty because you haven’t got a note in your head.”
“Meh,” she shrugs.
I kiss her again, “thank you.”
“For?”
“Being my Lottie.”
“I’m yours and I always will be,” she smiles, squeezing me between her thighs.
“What time is it?”
She pulls her phone from under her pillow, “just gone five.”
“Is that it?”
“Yep,” she kisses my forehead. “Rest, we can get takeout tonight. Have the rest of the day in bed.”
“Sounds good,” I don’t know what I’m going to do
about work or with the information I found out today. Right now, I don’t care. I have my Lottie. Nothing else matters.
LOTTIE
I suppose you could say it was a rough night of sorts. Craig didn't really sleep much, he remained taciturn and morose for the best part of the night, but the house was not turned over, so that's a plus.
I told the kids that daddy didn't go to work because he is not feeling well and now—well, he can't shake Tilly.
She comes into the room armed with a spoon and a bottle of squeezy honey, “mesin,” she declares, and Craig looks like he’s about to jump out the window.
“I don’t need medicine, baby.”
“Mesin,” She shoves the spoon of honey into his mouth, and he has no choice but to swallow it. “Bed!”
“I’m not sleepy.”
“Bed!” she shoves the spoon at me, along with the bottle of honey before turning back to her father.
“Tilly—”
“Now!” she interrupts his protests and marches him upstairs. She is determined to look after her father even if he does not want her help.
Matilda forces him into bed and then climbs onto his lap. “Mickey Mouse will help you feel better,” she insists, shoving the remote at him.
Ethan peeks around the door, “Dad?”
Matilda’s head snaps around, and her face contorts into a scowl. “Out!”
Ethan ignores her, stepping into the room, he looks at Craig with his large doe eyes and asks, “Dad, are you ok?”
“Get out!” Matilda roars.
Craig rubs at his temples, snarling, “Matilda!”
“You sick, go for a nap,” she insists. I don’t know why he gives her that death stare, she’s immune.
Craig’s eyes flit to Ethan, and he forces a smile for our son’s sake, “I’m fine, buddy. Just feeling out of sorts.”
“Nap,” Tilly demands, then turns back to her brother and demands he gets out.
I manage to avoid stepping on the numerous Lego pieces scattered about the landing, “Matilda, don’t talk to your brother like that.”
“My daddy,” she pouts, locking onto Craig’s arm with all the strength she can muster as if she’s half expecting someone to swoop in and take him away.
“He’s my dad too!” Ethan barks.
“No, mine.”
“Ok, calm down, guys. Leave daddy alone to rest.”
“Nap time,” Tilly pushes Craig’s head against the pillows and pulls the blankets up and over them both.
I’m not getting her out of there without a SWAT team, am I?
If she were not such a dictator this would be a really cute moment.
I take Ethan downstairs and make him and Ellie pancakes before they go out to play with their friends.
When they are done, I clean up the kitchen and debate working on my new book, calling Tiffy, or dare I say, calling Aidan Quinn and taking a hit out on that prick William.
Craig has told me several things about the man in the past few weeks—mainly since after our run-in with him at the hotel, I’ve been asking a lot of questions. For research purposes, obviously. I’m drifting towards darker romance and I’m thinking AJ has all the promise of the perfect book boyfriend.
Apparently, the papers have it wrong. AJ does not dabble in narcotics, that’s not how he made his fortune. He took a more sinister route, and, from what I’ve heard, there isn’t a shred of evidence that links him to his alleged crimes.
Then again, he is one person I’d happily cheer on. From my understanding, he “allegedly” takes down the scum of the earth. Rapists, woman beaters, paedophiles, those types who beat the system—they don’t beat Quinn.
As Craig said, the man just does what the law can’t. He stops them. I wonder if he’d be willing to add deadbeats to the list?
I go upstairs to find Craig and Tilly asleep in our bed. Tilly is holding onto Craig’s hair and neck. She may be a terror, but when it comes down to it, she’s a daddy’s girl to her core.
The doorbell rings, and I go to see who it is.
“Josie,” my face lights up. Thank God for this woman. “You have a key.”
She smiles back at me, quirking an eyebrow, “I’ve learned to always ring the bell first,” she lets out a musical laugh while she follows me into the kitchen. Setting her handbag on the counter, she looks around and then frowns. “How is he?”
“Tilly has him under house arrest, he’s asleep at the moment—hi, George.”
He strolls into the kitchen, looking about anxiously, “hello, darling,” he reaches for my hand, placing a firm kiss on my knuckles.
Josie chews on her lip, “he’s asleep at this hour?”
“He didn’t really sleep last night,” I admit. Popping the kettle on and pulling down three mugs.
Josie’s eyes flit to a picture of the kids and Craig. Tilly is about ten months old, sitting on his shoulders and smiling brightly, showing off her two bottom teeth. Ethan is sticking his tongue out at the camera while Ellie is hugging her father’s legs. “Understandable,” is all the woman manages to say.
“He is better than I thought he’d be,” I reassure her. “Only—”
“He’s still bad,” Josie nods in acknowledgement.
“Yeah,” I sigh. Hearing the kettle click, I fill two mugs of tea and a latte for me. I need caffeine in an IV drip at this rate. “He’s confused,” I blow into my mug before taking a sip. “Angry, upset… all the above.”
“My poor boy,” her voice wobbles. If this woman starts crying now, she’ll break me. Nothing is more heartbreaking than a Josie cry. I’ve seen exactly one in the entire time I’ve known her, and I’d pay out the nose to never witness it again.
“He’s strong. He’ll get through it; it was just a shock.”
“He’s been through far worse and made it out the other side,” Josie gifts me a tight smile. “I can’t believe that wanker would have the gall to show up after all this time.”
“From what Craig told me, I don’t think it was planned,” I swallow a mouthful of coffee to muffle a groan. “It sounds like Jessica somehow found out that she had a brother, tracked Craig down, and I guess in trying to know him better—”
“Shit hit the fan,” Josie nods.
“For lack of a better term.”
“What’s going on?” Craig’s sleepy voice asks from the hallway. He wipes the sleep from his eyes as the pads of his feet slap on the cold wooden floor. “Hey, Josie,” leaning down, he kisses her cheek and then steps around the counter.
“Great timing, the kettle just boiled. Tea, coffee?” I pull out another mug and set it down awaiting his reply.
“Coffee, please,” he stretches across the counter and leans on his forearms.
“Coming up!”
Josie places her mug down, reaching for Craig’s hand and giving a squeeze, “how are you, love?”
“I feel like I’ve been hit with a freight train,” Craig sighs, leans down, and runs his hands over his hair.
George takes a hesitant step forward, “do you need us to do anything?”
Craig stands up, stretching his back, “no, thank you. I’m fine.” Craig reaches for his mug and takes a sip. “Thanks, baby.”
“Daddy!” Ellie bursts through the door, running to her father who puts on a brave face for her. “You’re up.”
Craig gives her a toothy smile, picks her up and swings her about before sitting back down. “Princess.”
She lets out a happy squeal, then looks at him with hope-filled eyes and asks, “are you feeling better?”
“A little,” he hunkers down to meet her at eye level. “You know what would make me feel much better?”
“What?”
“Mammy’s cookies,” he gifts her a conspiratorial smile, and she takes the bait immediately.
Ellie spins for me, “can we make cookies for daddy?”
My eyes flit to Craig who pushes out his lower lip in a pout, damn him. “Sure, we’ll make them a little later, ok?”
“Ok!” she sprints out of the room.
“Cookies,” I turn back to meet his gaze as he gets to his full height. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
“I’m adorable,” he sniggers.
“I can’t argue there.”
Matilda thunders downstairs, “Scuse you!” she appears in the doorway, her hands planted firmly on her hips. “Who told you to get out of bed? Get back to bed, mister!”
George chuckles into his mug. “There is no messing around with her, is there?”
I see Matilda opening her mouth, ready to start a rant. I cut in before she can get another word in, “Matilda, Daddy is having a drink. You’ll have to wait.”
“But he’s sick!”
“He’s feeling better.”
She turns to Craig and asks, “did you take your mesin?”
“Yes.”
“Five minutes.”
“Yes, boss.”
Matilda turns her sights on me, “Mammy, I want a drink too!”
“Here’s some juice,” I pass down her sippy and she stomps off into the sitting room for a minute. “Two going on thirty that one.”
“She’s headstrong, didn’t lick that trait off the floor, you know,” Josie nudges Craig with her arm and smiles.
Craig snorts, “don’t know why you’re looking at me like that for?”
Josie cocks a quizzical eyebrow. “Oh, no?”
“No.”
“The barbeque?”
“We’ll be there,” Craig takes a mouthful of coffee,
hearing the little prison warden stomping back in at high speed. “Times up, back to bed!”
“Can I at least finish my drink?”
“Hurry up!”
Matilda guards our room for the rest of the day. That girl is better than a pack of guard dogs. Nobody is getting through her.
She barks orders at me to bring up drinks and treats and to tell me to change her wet nappies. That’s about it. I’m not allowed to sit with Craig, the only way Ellie got into the room was to bribe Tilly with cookies after we made them. Ethan went in fully armed with his lightsabre to fight Tilly off should she attack, even then, she still made him sit at the end of the bed.
“Night, stinky.”
“Goodnight, baby.”
“I check you tomorrow, ok?”
“Ok.”
I bring Tilly to bed and tell her a story, when I come back into the room Craig is out of bed aiming for the stairs.
“Escaping already?”
“Nick and Jay are coming over.”
“Drinks?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s fine. I’ll just grab a book and get out of your hair. Make sure you eat something beforehand, yeah?”
“I will.”
“I’ll throw on a pizza to be safe.”
“Don’t trust me to eat?”
“Nope and you’re no spring chicken anymore, Barnes.
The hangover will not be good to you.”
“You don’t mind.”
“Not at all, but be warned, if you guys wake up Tilly, you’re dealing with her.”
“Noted.”
CRAIG
Alcohol is anaesthetic. It puts one’s primitive self in command, and right now, my primitive side is itching to spill blood.
The whisky smells like anger and bruised male ego.
Perfect.
Do I care that my sperm donor has been living it up with his new family for years, playing the role of a doting father to my half-sister and brother? No. I don’t because I know it’s an act. I know what he is—a fucking wanker.
I cut Nick off before he could divulge any more information because I will call AJ. I am seconds away from going Goodfellas on my sperm donor’s arse. I can imagine it now, get in the fucking trunk, of course he’d cry and beg and then Jay would just smack him over the head with a shovel and everyone wins.
“Another,” Nick demands, grabbing the bottle of J.D from the cabinet.
Jason side-steps him and reaches for the tequila instead, “shots,”
That’s true friendship for you, they’ll never let you go through it alone. Instead, they’ll sacrifice their liver just to sit with you and wait out the storm—unlike some people who run the second things get hard. Oh, there’s the anger again. I better swallow it, “bring it.”
Jason pours three shots of tequila, and we down them in record time.
