Crazy Over You Page 16

  “Tea? Or coffee is it?” Abby wasn’t sure if it was a reference to her attempt to be rebellious or her hangover, but the look on Simon’s face suggested that either way it amused him. He looked too good: refreshed from the park and carrying off the relaxed weekend look way too well.

  “Water thanks,” Abby responded timidly. She was a bit cross with him for having seemingly made himself at home in the kitchen, but then again it was technically his home too and she could hardly complain when he had looked after the girls all morning while she was in no fit state. Sitting at the table she wondered who was going to mention the elephant in the room first. Simon placed a glass of water in front of her. Abby noticed his hand on her shoulder as he leaned across, his breath on her neck and the lovely scent of him. It sent a picture into her mind. Oh no, no, no, no! I can’t have been straddling him. Her cheeks flushed. Surely the dark side of her mind wouldn’t have let her. It would have leapt in and stopped her, either that or plain common sense should have. But then again maybe she had drunk both into a coma.

  She felt angry with herself. She panicked; what if it wasn’t Simon she had come across in her drunken state? Would she have popped her new underwear on for anybody? Here she was still hurting over his sexual misdemeanours and yet it seems she had leapt out of her clothes at her first drunken opportunity. She pushed it out of her mind – besides, his wasn’t a drunken opportunity, it was a fully sober, consenting encounter that lasted a week. Would a drunken encounter have been any easier to handle? Abby checked herself for going off on a tangent. None of this was the point in hand. Last night was. She had to know what had happened.

  “Si… did we… did I—”

  “Mummy, Mummy, come see this!”

  Abby welcomed the interruption, unsure how she was going to actually say the rest of the sentence. She stood to leave the room as Grace’s little hand clung onto her. Ah, her baby, she missed her bedtime snuggle with her last night. Abby scooped her up and glanced back at Simon, who had a too cheeky, too knowing grin on his face. Oh, this is not bloody funny! Abby decided to ignore him and go and get her fix of the girls. Her head was still delicate but they always made her feel better.

  The next hour was spent playing in a camp that had been built out of blankets the girls had found stashed behind the sofa. Abby hadn’t seen them when she came down initially. They were from the airing cupboard and their presence in the living room gave her hope that maybe they implied separate sleeping arrangements. But then of course it wasn’t the sleeping she was concerned about.

  After a rather tense lunch Abby could barely eat, Jessica and Grace took themselves off to their bedrooms to play and Bramble wiggled out from under the table, slumping onto his bed, aware that any hope of crumbs had now passed. Abby picked up the plates, their clattering reminding her acutely that her head ached. She grimaced at the noise.

  “I’ll do it.” Simon attempted to take the plates from her.

  “No, it’s fine.” Abby clung on to them; she might be delicate but she wasn’t useless.

  “Abby, let me.”

  Hmm, he was being all domestic again, the new way he liked to play happy, ‘normal’ families. Abby conceded. She was secretly beginning to like this side of him and her headache was returning with vengeance. As she watched him move to the dishwasher she had another flashback of her hands ruffling his hair – oh no! She couldn’t keep avoiding it. If she had slept with him she didn’t want to give him the wrong impression. Things were not alright between them. She wasn’t ready to just accept what had happened.

  “About last night.” There, she broached it.

  Simon’s eyebrows rose and he smirked. Oh, that’s not good!

  “Did you have fun?” he asked through his grin.

  What does that mean? When exactly? Not wanting to reveal that she had no idea what she’d done last night, she countered, “Did you have fun?”

  Simon pondered momentarily. “It was entertaining and informative.”

  Clearly he found this funny. Abby didn’t, and her head hurt too much to play games. “Simon, don’t be a shit, what happened?”

  Simon giggled in surprise at Abby’s language; he didn’t often hear her swear and had certainly never known her to get so drunk that she couldn’t remember things.

  “I’m not sure you want to know.”

  “Of course I want to know. I just bloody asked didn’t I?”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really! Unless you want to keep more secrets.” It was a low blow and she regretted it as soon as she saw the playful sparkle in his eyes fade.

  “I helped you in, I got you to drink some water.”

  “And?” She was losing patience.

  “And you were grateful?”

  What the hell did that mean? “How grateful?”

  Simon’s lips curved a little.

  “It’s not bloody funny. You took advantage.” Abby regretted it as soon as the outburst was out of her mouth. None of her flashbacks suggested he had. She was accusing him to escape her own mortification.

  Simon was across the kitchen in front of her in a couple of strides. He looked into her eyes. Abby shrunk.

  “I did not take advantage of you! Christ Abby, I wouldn’t. You know that don’t you?”

  “Yes.” Her voice was weak. She knew he wanted her back, and perhaps that would have been a way. She pushed the thought out of her mind. He looked hurt at the accusation.

  “I wanted to, of course I wanted to.” He rubbed his temples, his frustration still evident. “You were being funny and sexy and throwing yourself at me.”

  “But my clothes…?”

  “When I went to get you more water you threw your clothes off, mostly round the room, and when I got back you were standing there all silk and lace, giggling, like you used to.”

  Abby raised her hands to her face. She was never drinking again.

  “You looked amazing.” The words came out in a small voice. Simon wasn’t sure how welcome they’d be but he meant them.

  Abby made an eugh noise of exasperation, still recovering from the revelation as an image of herself in that outfit filled her mind.

  “I bent to get a blanket to cover you – I’d got them out when you text to say you were drunk.”

  Abby looked confused.

  Simon continued, “I thought I’d stay on the sofa and distract the girls in the morning, so they didn’t wake you too early—”

  “Wait, I sent a text?” Abby wanted the ground to swallow her up. What had she put in the text? She didn’t remember typing it.

  “I think it read, Watch out, I’m drunk and coming for you!” Simon giggled, clearly reciting it verbatim.

  Abby knew her cheeks must have been turning purple. She could hear the blood rushing round her glowing ears. She didn’t want to know more, but then again she still didn’t actually know what had happened. She let Simon go on.

  “When I leaned down you pushed me onto the sofa.”

  Oh no, here comes the straddling! Abby closed her eyes. “Did I… did I… straddle you?”

  “You do remember!”

  “No. No, no not really.”

  “You straddled me and put your hands through my hair, insisting I look at your new underwear… You said you loved me and you wanted me, that I was yours and always had been.”

  “What did you do?” Abby was feeling angry with herself. Her mind was in such a muddle – why had she said that? Was it really how she felt? Abby wondered if being drunk made her mind clearer or more confused. She didn’t know. She knew he had denied her, she remembered sulking – “…but with your wife is the only time it is right.” It seemed the low blows were coming easily to her these days.

  “Abby, I love you. I want you. I want you more than you know. But not like that. I want you to want me the way you used to. To love me the way you used to. I wasn’t about to take you like that.”

  Abby opened one eye and squirmed, looking into Simon’s sincere face as it turned to mischief.<
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  “Besides, you passed out so I covered you over and took you up to bed.”

  Abby giggled and hit his shoulder. She couldn’t help it. He was too bloody cheeky. She let her eyes meet his.

  “So you covered me… and you left me in bed?” she asked, slowly raising an eyebrow.

  “OK, I may have been a bit slow to cover you and I may have let you snuggle up next to me a little bit when I picked you up and you nuzzled into my neck.” He grinned.

  “SIMON!”

  “It wasn’t my fault; I didn’t ask you to get half-naked and throw yourself at me.”

  Exasperated at herself Abby thrust her forehead at his shoulder, hiding her red face. It was a fair point.

  Simon lowered his voice, speaking on a sigh. “And it felt so good to hold you close, to have you sleep in my arms the way you used to. Sorry. But I promise that’s all that happened.” He took her hand in his. The gesture felt warm and delicious and ultimately tender.

  “Abby, I love you. I want you back, but I want all of you. I want you conscious, I want all of your mind wanting me back.”

  And that was just it, she wasn’t sure all of her mind would ever let that happen.

  Chapter 26

  Abby’s body felt invigorated from the gym. Her muscles tingled and her cheeks were flushed from the exertion. Ted’s estimation that ten minutes on each machine would be enough to start had been right; it was a challenge. In fact she found it bloody tough at times. She had gone at it hard, pounding away unwanted images with each step on the treadmill, powering her way through muddled thoughts on the cross trainer, sliding past old regrets on the wave machine, riding into oblivion on the exercise bike and, well, basically, just trying not to throw up on the rowing machine. It had been a workout for mind, body and soul. On the two occasions she actually felt like she might pass out she took a long, slow drink and fiddled with her shoelace; accidentally forgetting to pause the machine meant those final impossible minutes had slipped by – oops!

  As the cool water of the shower slid over her enlivened muscles, Abby realised she was actually grinning. She was proud of herself. Not least because she made it through the exercise programme, but also because she had gone and done it alone. When Melissa cancelled it would have been easy to make excuses but she hadn’t. A few months ago she knew she would have, in fact a few months ago even being a member of the gym would have seemed alien to her. This was progress. Wrapping herself in a towel she decided she couldn’t wait any longer; she had to send Melissa a text: I did it! I bloody did it! Even mad Marcia would have been proud of me!

  After pressing send she realised she should have tempered her own excitement with at least a touch of concern for Melissa’s predicament. Hope the ankle feels better – I knew heels were a hazard. I have a pair of neglected mandals if you need to borrow them while bandaged ;-)

  It was only then, coming down from her exercise high, that the thought of the drinks to follow crept over her. She had been so focused on forcing herself to go to the gym alone that she forgot to cancel drinks with Bradley. Was it too late to cancel now? Maybe there was a chance Melissa would still go. Abby fired off another text:

  Are you sure you don’t want to come out for a drink? I’ll pick you up? xx

  Melissa’s response buzzed back before Abby left the changing room: Well done you! Neglected mandals are the only type of mandals there should be in this world! I’m sorry; I wouldn’t be good company for drinks. I just need to keep this thing up and pray for no bruising. You should still go though. xx

  Abby sighed. Melissa had twisted her ankle when her heel got caught in the string of a discarded PE bag in the corridor at school. The injury really wasn’t that bad but with her wedding drawing ever closer Melissa was increasingly living in a pre-wedding portal where any issue or small problem was magnified to disastrous proportions.

  Staring at her phone Abby wondered if she could still cancel her drink with Bradley. Without Melissa the whole concept felt a bit awkward. She could use the excuse that her mum needed her to get back, but it simply wasn’t true. Eleanor had enjoyed putting the girls to bed last week and was looking forward to doing it again. In fact she had practically pushed Abby out the door and told her not to return so early this time; Abby had a sneaking suspicion it was because Sky was showing reruns of Bergerac. As she knew her mum had always had a soft spot for John Nettles she felt it her daughterly duty to comply. But going out with Brad, just the two of them – it felt so strange.

  Perhaps she was just making the whole thing feel like a bigger deal than it was. She’d made it clear she just wanted to be friends and he’d agreed. So why was she worried? Damn it, it’s just a drink. Determining to go along anyway, with the intention of sticking to soft drinks after her little escapades the other evening, Abby scooped up her bag and headed for the door.

  As she entered the corridor, Abby swooned a little on her black, wedged sandals. Bloody hell. Brad was staring at the notice board again, not a hint of the sports kit-wearing PE co-ordinator about him. He was dressed to go out and quite possibly to impress, in a cobalt Oxford short-sleeved shirt revealing his toned biceps and a pair of charcoal jeans-style chinos. Even his regular Nike trainers had been replaced with black Derby lace-ups. His hair had been styled with a little wax but retained its slightly ruffled look. Oh God, he’s made an effort!

  Abby wasn’t sure whether to panic because already it seemed like more than just a drink between friends, or be cross with herself for not making more of an effort. She looked down at her jeans. At least she had paired them with one of her new tops – no oversized supermarket special tonight. Her low-cut, daisy print bubble hem blouse with her wedge-heeled sandals might just be enough to lift her outfit to ‘normal person going out’ proportions. Not that she really knew what that was; she hadn’t been out much since having Grace. Abby swallowed, making an effort to smile casually as Bradley looked up with a distinct sparkle in his dark brown eyes.

  “I thought we were meeting at the pub,” she stated, aware she was being caught mid-swoon.

  “I know but I was passing and saw your car; I thought I’d wait for you, see if you fancied a walk along the beach, maybe a drink in the café instead of a pub?”

  Yes please! The pub wasn’t really Abby’s scene these days and the walk and café felt so much more casual, a much nicer way to spend a bit of grown-up time while she wasn’t being Mummy or a teacher under stress. “Sounds good to me.”

  “Great, come on then.” Brad put his hand out to Abby.

  Hesitating, she left it hanging; unless you were under the age of ten holding hands seemed highly inappropriate for friends going out.

  “Your bag?” Brad looked at her, puzzled.

  Abby’s eyes went wide. Thank Christ I didn’t grab his hand! She cringed.

  “I’ll take it for you.”

  Attempting to regain her composure she blurted, “No, no thanks, it’s fine. I won’t inflict my sweaty underwear on you.” Oh God, where did that come from? This was going oh so badly and they had barely left the leisure centre. Abby’s cheeks felt no hesitation in firing up to beacon heat as she bit her lip forcing herself to shut up before she made matters worse.

  Brad let out a laugh. “Well I was attempting to be a gentleman, but—”

  “I’ll just go pop it in my car.” Abby rushed on ahead, welcoming the cool evening air on her cheeks as she marched across the car park attempting to dispel all thoughts of her self-induced humiliation.

  As they crossed the road from the leisure centre, the view of the beach was breath taking. The deep saffron sun sat heavily on the horizon, its long rays illuminating the clouds and diffusing bursts of pink and purple across the darkening evening sky. The calm sea lapped lazily at the shore, mirroring the serenity of the scene above.

  “Wow! It’s so pretty.” Abby paused for a moment, in awe. Her children’s bedtime routine had practically put a curfew on evening outings for her; the only thing she regularly went outside for past 7:30 se
emed to be to pick up after Bramble. It really wasn’t quite the same. “It’s like…” She sighed.

  “Pardon?” Bradley looked at her, puzzled.

  “Oh… nothing… I do love a pink sky.”

  Brad watched Abby, intrigued. She seemed miles away. He thought how lovely she looked glowing from exercise, her eyes captivated, enraptured by the evening sky. She looked thoroughly at peace in the moment. Suddenly aware he was overly staring, he flicked his eyes down towards the beach for a distraction.

  “How are you at making ducks and drakes?”

  “What?” Snapping out of her daze, Abby’s mind scrambled to make sense of what he’d said. “What are you on about?” Is it rude? It sounded rude. She really didn’t know what he was referring to.

  “Ducks and drakes… you know!”

  “No I don’t.” The words came out more sharply than she intended.

  “Stone-skimming, skipping a stone across the water. Ducks and drakes… how are you at it?” Brad gestured to mimic the action, looking at her as if she must be an alien not to know what he meant.

  Her shoulders relaxed as she grinned broadly. “Oh, stone-skimming! Why didn’t you say so?” Abby felt hugely relieved and couldn’t help but giggle. “Who calls it ducks and drakes?”

  “Me, my dad, my brother, my granddad… EVERYBODY,” he added indignantly.

  Abby laughed harder.

  “Well, I guess not you.” Brad watched her, bemused, letting her laugh herself out before raising his eyebrows and folding his arms. “I think you are avoiding the question Miss Turner.”

  Miss? “What question?” she managed breathlessly.

  “How are you at du… stone-skimming?”

  Abby attempted to regain her self-control. She’d never really tried. She had lobbed stones into the water with Jessica and Grace to see who could make the biggest splash. Did that count? “I’ve never tried,” she offered honestly.