A Perfect Love (17 page)

The thought made me pause. For the first time ever, I thought about him and his own demons and loss. Shit, I could be a selfish prick at times. Jo had called me up on it numerous times, but I’d never really believed it until that moment.

I needed to make it right. Jo had enough heart to keep me going and keep me sane. Mace, on the other hand, had a chaotic, often violent life, and…me. I was it as far as I knew, and for the past few years, I’d thrown our relationship away.

“I’m a wanker.”

Mace snorted as he placed his coffee back on the table. “Shit, Liam, what have you done now? Don’t get me wrong, I agree with that statement fully, but any particular reason this time?”

I hated the feels when it came to my brother. While I could reach down and drag them out, they didn’t come naturally. They’d been buried for too damn long. With Jo it was different. “You.” I nodded at him. “I’ve been a wanker to you, and I’m sorry.”

He wiped a hand over his face. “Enough. You’ve said sorry already.”

“I know, but hell, Mace, you’ve always been there, yet where the hell have I been for you? When Abi—”

His gaze snapped to mine. “Don’t, brother.”

I couldn’t stop the verbal diarrhoea even if I wedged Imodium down my damn throat. “I know, Mace, but you’ve never spoken about it. And if you haven’t spoken to me about it, then I can’t imagine you opening up to anyone else.” His face shuttered and he looked all sorts of pissed, but I continued regardless, on a roll. “All I’m saying is I’m here for you…when you need to talk about shit, okay? You don’t have to manage everything all of the time. You’re my big brother and all, but I can step up and look after crap, too. Okay, Mace? I love you, man.”

“Christ Almighty!” He shook his head and hit me with his hard stare. “You really doing this now?”

I shrugged, knowing I looked like a dick. “I should have done it a long time ago.”

A deep sigh released from his lungs. “I love you, too.” He ended on a small cough and turned away.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d told my brother I loved him. It may have been when he gave me a manly hug before he shipped me off to university, telling me he was proud of me. A whole damn world had happened and twisted since then.

“Do you need time to hug it out, or is it safe?” My gaze shifted to Jo who was wearing a small grin. While the smile didn’t hold its usual mirth, the slight sheen in her eyes wasn’t lost on me. She placed Mace’s toast before him and sat next to me, touching his arm briefly.

Mace scoffed and shovelled the toast into his mouth, barely chewing before he swallowed. We both ignored her comment, but welcomed the cut in tension.

“Do you want me to organise the funeral?” Even though we were both relieved that another chapter of our lives had closed, Mace would agree with needing a funeral for our mum. It was the right thing to do; plus, I needed that final goodbye and the closure, which came with it.

Swallowing his last bite, he shook his head. “We can do it together.”

I smiled. He’d listened and was accepting my apology, while embracing our brotherhood. “Okay.”

We knew there was no life insurance. Her life was too screwed up for that to think beyond her next fix. It meant the organisation and expense came down to us. Yet again, we were forced to step up and pick up the chaos of our mum’s misgivings. Only this time, I was able to ensure Mace wasn’t doing it all by himself.

Chapter Thirteen

Jo

I had no idea why I’d thought wearing heels was a good idea. My swollen, aching feet cried out to me, desperate for a soak and a rub. This discomfort did keep my own straying thoughts, which were pretty damning, away from my overactive brain, though. The last few days before the funeral, I held stoically quiet. Silence was my current strength and my barrier. I was too afraid to deal with the fallout of all that had happened. Tired, I eyed-up Ella who was sitting next to me.

“What? You’re freaking me out a little. I don’t have any food on me, you know.”

“What do you mean? I’m not looking for food. Are you saying I eat a lot?” Turned toward me, the red tendrils of hair framing her face, she quirked her brow at me in disbelief. “Fine,” I admitted. I had serious cravings recently. Nothing bizarre or strange, just a craving to eat, and I meant seriously eat. I rarely went a couple of hours without munching on something. Ella had staged an intervention a couple of weeks back, pointing out my growing arse as she did.

She’d reminded me that I wasn’t growing my baby in my booty, which had taken on a life of its own in recent weeks. While she whole-heartedly supported my eating yummy goodness, the quantity and regularity of eating such treats was becoming extreme. Her intervention, on top of her pep talk—after which I later pointed out she was lucky I didn’t snatch her bag where I knew was a stashed cookie—also included a plan of munching on healthy stuff as well as the fun stuff. I’d grimaced.

While a carrot stick had its own value and merits, it was no comparison to a slab of double chocolate cake or peanut brittle. I also knew she was right. I was fine with piling on a few kilos; it was part of the baby-incubation gig I had going on, but I also knew it would be a bastard to try to lose those spare tyres post-baby.

“So, what do you want if you’re not looking for food? Don’t think I didn’t see you attacking the hummus earlier.”

I pouted. “I ate it with carrot and celery sticks.”

“Yeah, but most people usually dip them in lightly. They tend not to use the stick as a spoon and eat the whole damn thing.”

“It has chickpeas in it, so it’s healthy.”

She shook her head in amusement while my feet throbbed, reminding me why I was eyeballing her in the first place. “You’re going to talk me in circles, Jo. What do you want?”

“My feet hurt.”

“And?”

“Foot rub?”

She turned up her nose. “Don’t you have a husband for stuff like that?”

“Yeah, but he’s outside still, and it hardly feels right asking him to rub my feet now. He’s just buried his mum.” He was currently out back with a few friends, Preston and Mace. The funeral service was earlier in the day, and we’d retreated to our house. It was an eerily quiet service. I supposed, since Jane was consumed in the world she was, it didn’t really give you time to make friends. The important thing was both Liam and Mace’s close friends were there, on top of a few decent cousins who managed to escape the crap gene, which shot through some of his mother’s line.

I was glad the day was almost over. I was mainly relieved it had gone without incident. I half-expected David to show up and prayed desperately that he didn’t. It seemed he really had skipped states, and I hoped that was the way it would stay. What was more, we got through the service without any inopportune breakouts of giggling. Seriously, it happened to me at my nana’s funeral a couple of years ago.

My nana was bloody awesome and died when she was in her early eighties. She’d had an amazing life until finally the bastard called cancer took her. During the service, one of my cousins, who was standing behind me, stomach grumbled at a particularly quiet moment. With our emotions high, I started giggling. I forced myself to disguise it with a cough, which did nothing to hide my shaking shoulders. Liam had gripped my hand tighter, struggling to contain his own laughter. My parents, aunts, and uncles were in the front row before me, and I was in the same row as Ella, who loved Nana just as much as I did, along with Preston, Liam and a few of my cousins.

After my not-so-subtle, failed attempt at disguising and stopping my giggle, our row became a Mexican wave of shaking shoulders and fake coughs. At one point, my mum looked over her shoulder; it was her mum who had passed. I froze, momentarily feeling awful, but I simply had no control. I was renowned for inappropriate laughter as it was. Mum surprised me by winking and quirking her lips into a smile.

We were all sad at our nana’s passing, but I knew she would have loved the fact we found silliness and unbridled laughter amidst such sadness. Once we sat in the funeral car afterward, my mum broke out into a full and deep belly laugh. Her mum would have definitely loved it.

“Fine,” Ella relented. “But just remember when I’m pregnant, I’ll expect the same in return.”

“Done.” I ungracefully scooted around on the sofa, so my feet landed on her lap.

“Are they stinky?”

“Erm…no?”

Once more, her nose turned up; this time aimed directly at my swollen feet.

“What’s a pair of stinky feet between best friends?” I grinned, drawing out a laugh from her.

“You do seriously owe me. Don’t think I’ll forget.” She started working on my left foot, drawing out a relieved groan from my mouth. “And if you make dodgy sex noises, you can forget it. I’ve heard you shagging one too many times over the years. Each time, I’ve wanted to ram a hot bloody poker in my earholes.”

I laughed. “Liam thinks my sex noises are cute.” The laughter died on my lips a moment before I schooled my face and thoughts. I had not shared Liam’s deception with Ella, yet. The irony of withholding it from her wasn’t lost on me, but voicing the events would only make them real. I needed time to compartmentalise what had happened first.

Her hands paused on my feet and I wiggled my toes, urging her to continue. My aim was to also distract her so she wouldn’t notice the shadow passing over me.

“What? He does.”

“Bloody hell, woman. There is nothing cute about sounding like a wailing banshee.”

“Hey! I do not.”

“Whatever you say, Jo.”

I harrumphed. Liam liked my sex noises. On top of the cute factor, he said they were hot. There was no way I sounded that bad. Wanting the focus off my adorable sex noises, I relaxed under her touch, my feet already feeling better. “So earlier you mentioned when you have babies. Are you going to be making me an aunt soon?”

I was happy at the thought of Preston and El taking their relationship up a notch or five. Preston had been in love with El forever, and while they hadn’t been official for long, not only was it obvious they were head over heels for each other, but they’d both happily admitted it, too. One of the bonuses—I was determined to see it that way rather than become icky when El shared titbits about her sex life with my little brother—of them being together, on top of how crazy happy they both were, was that I knew they would make it. They were pretty much perfect for one another, so the thought of being an aunt was cool.

Her hands paused again, much to my frustration. I wriggled my toes once more and told myself if she stopped again, I’d have to shut up and stop asking questions. However, Ella turned a bright shade of crimson before me, spiking my curiosity tenfold.

“What aren’t you telling me? Shit, you’re not pregnant already are you?”

She shook her head and laughed, her cheeks cooling down a fraction. “Geez no. Not yet.”

“Not yet?”

She shrugged. Tension in her shoulders indicated she was being a little too nonchalant. “Well, we’ve talked about it and stuff.”

I would have leaned forward and perhaps shook her if I could have been arsed, that and if my baby belly wasn’t preventing me. Instead, I settled with a question, my voice rising in pitch. “
Stuff
? What
stuff
? You need to tell me what the heck is going on now, woman.”
Shit, I may just cry if she makes me too bloody happy. Stupid hormones.

Her grin was wide. “You know, marriage and babies and living together—stuff.”

“So what decisions did you make about said ‘stuff’?” I used my fingers to air-quote. While it took up unnecessary energy, I thought it was worth it given the situation. Everything seemed pretty much an effort recently. My energy levels had plummeted. “Plus, you’re already living together.” After Ella’s accident before Christmas last year, Preston had moved in to look after her. He’d never left.

“We’re going to buy a house together. We’re selling mine and going for it.” She teamed her words with a mini happy dance, sans standing up and doing her usual geeky moves. For a twenty-eight-year-old woman, a teacher at that, I loved it when she regressed into immature Ella. It was a pretty awesome side to her. “We’re spending the week putting my house on the market, and he’s already organised a friend to rent out his place. We’ve decided to keep his place as an investment.”

“Shit, honey, I think I’m going to cry.” I sniffed. A mortgage together was big. In many ways, it was bigger than marriage, since a marriage was easy enough to get out of, while a mortgage was a whole new ballgame of commitment.

“Don’t be a fanny. If you start crying, you’ll only pee yourself. You know what you’re like.”

Damn it. She was right. If I peed on her, my foot rub would stop. Then that would definitely push my emotions over the edge. I took a deep breath. “I’m so happy for you guys.” A fresh, amused grin then formed at my next thought. “Have you told our parents yet?” I knew both sets of folks would be crazy excited. It may even take some of the heat off Liam and me.

My mum and dad, always awesome if not regularly over-the-top, had stepped up their level of contact. Mum was constantly texting and popping by for unannounced visits. I was so lucky they cared so much for us, especially considering Liam’s parents, but they were a little suffocating with their excitement.