Beautiful Beloved
Page 27
Niall gazed down at her as he offered her the milk. “That’s a girl. Who’s a good baby?” He bent and kissed her forehead. “Ah, but she’s a hungry one, isn’t she?”
I gaped at him, at her tiny hand clutching his thumb as she drank happily.
Bloody hell.
If my daughter had one superpower it would be the ability to locate her mum from several rooms away. If Sara were anywhere in the house, Anna wouldn’t dare take a bottle from me.
I scowled at Niall. “You must smell like a woman.”
“Piss off,” he said to me, still using his baby-soothing voice. “Why is your daddy such a wanker, hmm? I’ve got a hundred nieces and nephews and he expects I can’t give this tiny miss a bottle?”
Laughing, I stood and cleared our dishes.
“Baby girl knows which uncle’s gonna spoil her rotten,” Niall whispered just loud enough for me to hear. “Who wants a pony? Is it you? You do? I’ll make sure you get a pony.”
I groaned, smacking the back of his head as I walked past him to go find Sara.
“You’re welcome, wanker,” he sang sweetly.
I found Sara in the bathroom, putting on the pair of diamond earrings her father sent after Anna was born.
Bending to kiss her neck, I said, “I’ll have Scott come for us here at eight—”
“No.” She turned to face me, running her hands up my dress shirt and straightening my collar. “Don’t.”
I blinked, tilting my head as my stomach dropped. Had she changed her mind? “You don’t want to go?”
Her smile was a sweet reassurance. “Of course I do. But I want to meet there. Scott can bring me. You come separately.”
She wanted to leave for the club separately? “But we’ve always gone together.”
“I don’t want to drag anything behind us when we leave. If he picks us both up here, we’ll fuss over the details of leaving Anna, we’ll talk about her in the car. I think I’m going to take her out and do some back-to-work shopping then head to your mom’s. I’ll coordinate with Niall. Scott can get me there and I’ll see you at Johnny’s. We can just be us tonight.”
“You sure?”
She pulled her lip between her teeth and smiled around it before whispering, “Yeah, I’m sure.”
Innocence, anticipation, lust, and something sweeter than pure sugar. It was everything I loved about Sara distilled into a single expression.
“Right then. I’ll meet you there at nine.”
I left for work, expecting to see Sara at lunch, or even get a call from her as I usually did during the day, but knowing I might not. I suspected Sara might want a little distance today to help put her in the right mind-set, and I was right. A text came just as the office was clearing out, to let me know Niall was picking Annabel up at Mum’s flat and she would meet me at the club, as planned.
The distance was odd, but also thrilling.
I went home, showered and dressed, and walked through the rooms of my empty flat. Niall had rung to say he’d be back with the baby shortly, and I had to admit that I agreed with Sara, it would be better if I left before they got here. Annabel was in excellent hands, and Max and Sara as parents could be put on hold for a few hours.
There was nothing left to do; it was time to meet my wife.
My phone buzzed on my way out, a text from Johnny: Use the front door.
We always came in through the back hallway and directly into Room Six. Having performed dozens of times at the club, Sara and I were recognizable to nearly everyone who would be there on a Wednesday night. Johnny wanted her to walk in, right in the middle of all of that?
My protective instinct flared.
Did Sara request this? I replied.
Shut up. In a fucking meeting.
This was as good as a yes; if it was for any other reason he would have said so.
Laughing, I replied in eight separate messages:
It’s
A
Shame
About
Your
Tiny
Shriveled
Dick
Once I confirmed with our driver Scott that he was picking Sara up at my mother’s flat, I called for a cab to get me over to the club, Red Moon. I’d put on something simple, not knowing how Johnny would have the room set up for our return to the club. I wore black trousers and a simple pressed gray check button-down shirt. It had been so long since we came in through the secretive front entrance that I was actually nervous—wanting to make sure I remembered how to get down there: with a key, down several flights to the receptionist. Except standing at the desk waiting my arrival wasn’t Lisbeth, but a stunning redhead who circled the desk, hand outstretched.
I gaped at him, at her tiny hand clutching his thumb as she drank happily.
Bloody hell.
If my daughter had one superpower it would be the ability to locate her mum from several rooms away. If Sara were anywhere in the house, Anna wouldn’t dare take a bottle from me.
I scowled at Niall. “You must smell like a woman.”
“Piss off,” he said to me, still using his baby-soothing voice. “Why is your daddy such a wanker, hmm? I’ve got a hundred nieces and nephews and he expects I can’t give this tiny miss a bottle?”
Laughing, I stood and cleared our dishes.
“Baby girl knows which uncle’s gonna spoil her rotten,” Niall whispered just loud enough for me to hear. “Who wants a pony? Is it you? You do? I’ll make sure you get a pony.”
I groaned, smacking the back of his head as I walked past him to go find Sara.
“You’re welcome, wanker,” he sang sweetly.
I found Sara in the bathroom, putting on the pair of diamond earrings her father sent after Anna was born.
Bending to kiss her neck, I said, “I’ll have Scott come for us here at eight—”
“No.” She turned to face me, running her hands up my dress shirt and straightening my collar. “Don’t.”
I blinked, tilting my head as my stomach dropped. Had she changed her mind? “You don’t want to go?”
Her smile was a sweet reassurance. “Of course I do. But I want to meet there. Scott can bring me. You come separately.”
She wanted to leave for the club separately? “But we’ve always gone together.”
“I don’t want to drag anything behind us when we leave. If he picks us both up here, we’ll fuss over the details of leaving Anna, we’ll talk about her in the car. I think I’m going to take her out and do some back-to-work shopping then head to your mom’s. I’ll coordinate with Niall. Scott can get me there and I’ll see you at Johnny’s. We can just be us tonight.”
“You sure?”
She pulled her lip between her teeth and smiled around it before whispering, “Yeah, I’m sure.”
Innocence, anticipation, lust, and something sweeter than pure sugar. It was everything I loved about Sara distilled into a single expression.
“Right then. I’ll meet you there at nine.”
I left for work, expecting to see Sara at lunch, or even get a call from her as I usually did during the day, but knowing I might not. I suspected Sara might want a little distance today to help put her in the right mind-set, and I was right. A text came just as the office was clearing out, to let me know Niall was picking Annabel up at Mum’s flat and she would meet me at the club, as planned.
The distance was odd, but also thrilling.
I went home, showered and dressed, and walked through the rooms of my empty flat. Niall had rung to say he’d be back with the baby shortly, and I had to admit that I agreed with Sara, it would be better if I left before they got here. Annabel was in excellent hands, and Max and Sara as parents could be put on hold for a few hours.
There was nothing left to do; it was time to meet my wife.
My phone buzzed on my way out, a text from Johnny: Use the front door.
We always came in through the back hallway and directly into Room Six. Having performed dozens of times at the club, Sara and I were recognizable to nearly everyone who would be there on a Wednesday night. Johnny wanted her to walk in, right in the middle of all of that?
My protective instinct flared.
Did Sara request this? I replied.
Shut up. In a fucking meeting.
This was as good as a yes; if it was for any other reason he would have said so.
Laughing, I replied in eight separate messages:
It’s
A
Shame
About
Your
Tiny
Shriveled
Dick
Once I confirmed with our driver Scott that he was picking Sara up at my mother’s flat, I called for a cab to get me over to the club, Red Moon. I’d put on something simple, not knowing how Johnny would have the room set up for our return to the club. I wore black trousers and a simple pressed gray check button-down shirt. It had been so long since we came in through the secretive front entrance that I was actually nervous—wanting to make sure I remembered how to get down there: with a key, down several flights to the receptionist. Except standing at the desk waiting my arrival wasn’t Lisbeth, but a stunning redhead who circled the desk, hand outstretched.
