“Only because you had a crush on the coach.”
“Oh, so, I’m not the first older man in your life.” Holland’s husband lifts her hand, pressing a suave kiss to the back of it, the smooth bastard. Honestly, when I grow up, I want to be like him but without the castle and the responsibilities. He’s just got this air about him like he’s totally unflappable.
Nah. I don’t really want to be him. I am ecstatically happy with my lot.
Our trip to Scotland is ending, and I know Kennedy is finding the approaching moment bittersweet. It’s been great to see the sisters together, to watch the way they love each other so completely. I know Kennedy is so happy to see Alexander look at her sister with such love, and maybe she’ll start to feel a little less responsibility for her now. She’s happy to know Holland knows the love of a good man, because (excuse my touch of vanity here) Kennedy knows that love too, now.
Anyway, the kids are off watching a movie with Chrissy, who seems to be part-time housekeeper, part-time granny. The adults are kicking back at the dinner table. And because Holland invited my brother and his wife up from London for the weekend, I’m doubly enjoying myself tonight. I have my gorgeous wife by my side, a glass of delicious wine in my hand, and I’m surrounded by family, both old and new. My life could not be better.
“Elbows off the table.” Flynn, thinking he’s a funny fucker, calls across the table. Did I say I was enjoying having him here? I think I meant the opposite.
“Hilarious, but not very original,” I retort. “I’m pretty sure I heard that line on Chastity’s website.” I glance Kennedy’s way, trying to get her in on the act, but she’s not impressed. “I think it was titled, Don’t Talk with your Mouth Full.”
Chuckles break out around the table while, next to me, Kennedy drops her head to her hands as though she can’t believe I went there.
“Maybe you should’ve eaten with the kids,” Kennedy mutters with a long-suffering shake of her head.
“It’s fine,” Chas reassures her. “I’m not embarrassed. Sex is what pays my bills, kind of.”
Alexander lifts his glass, commending her “for her candour.” But he’s not fooling anyone. We all know that Chas gives her new friends lifetime memberships to the Fast Girls website. Shocking people is good advertising, apparently.
“Actually, that was pretty quick for you,” Flynn replies, turning my way.
“And the right kind of inappropriate,” Chas adds, sliding her phone out from wherever she’s been hiding it. Mothers of small children are never far from their phones when their kids are out of sight. This I already know. “Also,” she adds, “I’m stealing the line for potential dialogue.”
I raise my glass and tilt my head in a sort of, have at it way.
“Things that can be said at the dinner table that can also be said during sex,” Alexander offers with a desultory lift to one brow.
“Oh, that sounds like a good game.” Holland claps her hands together and wiggles in her seat. “I’ll start.” She glances around the room before her eyes come to rest on her husband once again. “Honey,” she says, her tone high and innocent. “Don’t stare at it. Eat it.”
The table burst out into raucous laughter as Alexander reaches out, pressing a finger to her shoulder.
“Why, darling,” he purrs. “Haven’t I told you that anticipation is part of the pleasure?”
“Ohhh, smooth.” Kennedy slides her brother-in-law an approving look. “How about”—she turns to face me, all perky—“Sir,” she intones, “would you like to see tonight’s specials?”
“Dying to,” I reply as more laughter ensures.
“Don’t stare at it, eat it!” We all jump at Chastity’s impersonation of an Eastern European dominatrix. I mean, I think it was a joke. Unless . . . nope. Not gonna think about it!
Flynn then assumes a languid pose, linking his hands behind the back of his head as though he were lounging in bed. He sends a smoulder Chastity’s way before playfully dropping his eyes to his crotch. “Stop playing with it and put it in your mouth.”
Chas tries to muffle a delighted cackle. But by her dark eyes and her blush, I’d say Flynn is getting lucky tonight.
The game continues, the suggestions getting sillier and sillier.
Don’t talk with your mouth full.
Here comes the choo-choo train.
Excuse me. It went down the wrong hole.
If you keep looking at your phone, I might as well not be here . . .
Eventually, both suggestions and wine are drained, and Alexander is in the middle of suggesting a nightcap, when something thuds against the dining-room door. Not the door to the hallway. The door to the service corridor, which isn’t being used tonight.
Alexander frowns deeply, clearly unimpressed. He opens his mouth but snaps it shut again at the sound of what is very obviously a moan of pleasure from the other side of the door. A female moan of pleasure.