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“I didn’t mean you, Evie, just in general. Come on, let’s eat.” I gentle my tone, trying to diffuse the contention in what I said. Fuck, she’s well on edge. I’m getting worried about what this present is. Because she’s all over the place.
We go into the cinema room and I can see she's already been down here. Her laptop is set up, the screen adjusted to the appropriate height for full viewing if you’re laid out, and the food is placed on a blanket on the floor.
“Very nice. Looks great.” I nod at the blanket.
“The food looks delicious. Do you want to eat first or…?” she starts to ask as I flop onto the floor and start digging in the baskets. “Food, then,” she grins at me.
I pat the spot next to me and say, “Are you joining me or what?” I’ve already started eating and am wafting a sandwich in her direction. She always has been a fan of them.
“I feel like I need to do a bit of positioning about this,” she moves her hand towards the laptop as I continue to eat. “It’s really from James and I. He’s got some other things for you, you’ll see that on Sunday obviously, but I wasn’t sure what to get you—‘the man who has everything.’ So James and I have been working on this for a little while. There’s a lot more available, but this is just a snapshot.” She’s starting to ramble, and it’s very disconcerting. “If it gets too much, tell me and I’ll stop.”
“I’m intrigued now. I thought you said I was the man with no boundaries.” I look at her directly.
“I’ll stop talking now and just start it. But, just to let you know, the first bit I’m not sure what he put in. Jonno helped him, so that will be a surprise for me too.”
Grabbing the remote for the laptop, she comes and sits by my side as I’m laid out. A piece of music starts, my music. A picture of Evie from years ago, very pregnant in a bikini top and shorts, fills the screen. Her face looks how I remembered her in my dreams for fucking years and I sit up, entranced. Her boobs are massive and spilling out of the sides, her tummy is extended, and underneath it states: James–four months.
Then another one pops up. Evie’s wrapped in a scarf, her leggings and jumper stretched so far out, laughing at the camera as she side-poses, showing how big her stomach is. The caption: James–one week.
I feel her eyes on me and realise I’ve still got hold of the sandwich, halfway to my mouth, but haven’t moved since the music began. “Fuck, Kitten,” I say quietly.
“Do you want me to stop?” she asks tentatively.
“No, definitely not.” I turn to look at her and put my sandwich down. Pulling her towards me, I move to sit behind her, both of us propped up on cushions. “Play it, Kitten,” I command her. And I watch the story of my son unfold in photos and video clips. From birth, literally. Him being placed on her stomach, and opening his eyes, the look on her face. I’ll never forget it.
I cry, I laugh, and by the time he gets to his fifth birthday, I feel like I’ve been put through a washing machine of emotions. “Stop the film. I don't want to miss anything, and I feel like I need to take it in a bit.” I can tell she’s still worrying. “It’s beautiful, Kitten,” I reassure her, touching her hair. “The most thoughtful gift I could ever get.”
“We did them in years. Birth to five, five to ten, ten to fifteen—so fun that one—and fifteen to eighteen. Up until he met you. I think James has added some after, but he wants me to wait ‘til he gets here to play that bit.”
“Who did all the filming? There’s so many angles and people in them.”
“We all did. I used to ask my brothers to film everything—days out, events, etc—and send it to me. Every three months or so I would edit and put it together in a chronological order. James was so used to being filmed, he’d pose and, as you can see, rope others in.”
“He certainly inherited my genes for flamboyancy. Yours for drama and mischief. Let’s do five to ten, and then I may start again at the beginning and you can talk me through some of them.”
We spend hours in there, laughing and crying at each film slot, as Evie takes me through some of the early years with some of her thoughts and snippets of things said and done. I notice as she feels more comfortable, she touches me more, and I her.
Late into the early hours, she looks at me and asks, “Do you truly love it, Kellen? I was worried you’d think, ‘here’s what I could have had,’ and be angry with us.”
“No, Kitten. As I’ve told you, the blame for that lies elsewhere.” I’m stroking her hair and touching her face as she’s fully turned towards me, sat between my legs and up on her knees. Her smile lights her up like Fourth of July fireworks, and she puts her arms around my neck and pulls me to a hug. I feel her shoulders relax as the tension leaves her body. When I touch her back and hair, she pulls back and looks into my face, then leans forward, totally surprisingly, and kisses me.
Chapter
Thirty-One
Evie
His eyes, so clear and honest, are a true window straight into his heart. He truly is one of the most beautiful men I have ever seen, and I’m wholly and completely drawn to him, emotionally and physically. As his eyes close, his long dark lashes that lighten towards the tips flutter to highlight his cheekbones. When he reopens them, the intensity within blazes straight to my soul.
I put my lips on his in what starts out as a gentle touch. He presses his hand on my back, pulling me more firmly against him, and moves his lips on mine. Pulling back, I kiss his mouth at the sides and top, flicking my tongue as I go, and he holds my head and kisses me back with ferocity.
He lifts me off my knees and settles me onto his lap, closing his legs so I can sit astride him. The entire time, he’s kissing the whole of my face, eyelids, nose, cheeks. He moves my head, giving him access to my ears, and bends my head back to get to my neck.
Not one word is said between us. Our bodies are connected, taking the lead, speaking a language so primal, no words are needed.
I stop and pull my top off over my head. I’m not wearing a bra and he dips his head immediately and takes a nipple into his mouth. Arching my back in pleasure, he pulls and grazes me with his teeth, lips, and tongue. He moves to the other breast and continues the same treatment whilst plucking the other nipple with his fingers.
His t-shirt is one too many barriers between us, and I pull at the hem so he knows I want it off.
