This Man Confessed (24 page)

“What’s Steve doing?” I ask, and he pulls back, momentarily faltering in his purposeful stride of actions.

“Nothing.” He’s lying, and I raise my eyebrows suspiciously. “He’s looking into a few things for me,” he huffs, reaching across to belt me up.

I bat his fussing hands away when he adjusts the lap belt across my tummy. “Will you just stop?” I push him out and shut the door on him, leaving a brooding mass of male on the other side of the window, glaring at me. I’m beginning to wish he
was
taking me to my mum’s. I don’t know if I can stand it, and I’m not going to even try and convince myself that he can stop. Double babies looks like double mollycoddling. Jesse mollycoddling. And I know damn well what Steve’s looking into. Jesse likely only left Steve intact on the condition that he investigates my drugging, and now the accident, too. I throw my head back against the headrest and turn a little to watch Jesse settle in the driver’s seat. “Why didn’t we just take my car?” I ask, nodding across to my shiny snowball.

He freezes and looks at me out of the corner of his eye. “You can’t drive too far.”

I smile on the inside. “No, but you could.” I should throw a hissy fit and make him drive the damn tank. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was bulletproof as well.

“Yes, I could, but I have this now.” He brushes me off and starts the engine, revving it loudly on a satisfied smile. “Listen to that.” He sighs, whacking it into gear and pulling off.

I begrudgingly admire the guttural roar of the DBS as I keep my relaxed head facing him, admiring his stunning profile. “Where are you taking me, then?” I ask, retrieving my phone from my bag.

“I told you, your mother’s.”

I roll my eyes dramatically. “Okay.” I sigh, dialing Kate.

“Give me your phone.” His hand comes toward me, his fingers grasping in the space between us. “No phone.”

“I need to call Kate.”

My phone is seized and turned off. “I’ve called everyone who needs to know that we’re going away, including Kate. Unravel your knickers, lady.”

I don’t try to reclaim it. I don’t want it.

“Ava, baby, wake up.”

I open my eyes and stretch, my hands hitting the ceiling above me. Confused, I look up and see the roof of a car. Then my sleepy eyes fall to the side and come face to face with my lovely control freak. He’s smiling brightly at me. “Where are we?” I rub my eyes.

“Cornwall,” he replies quickly.

 “Stop it,” I snap. I’m a little grizzly. “I need a wee.” I shift in my seat and clasp the handle to get out, catching the first glimpse of our surroundings. I recognize it. The low wall circling the small graveyard, the little hut you can walk through to take the winding path down to the beach, and the mixture of sand and leaves that gather in the gutter. It’s all familiar. Too familiar.

I swing to face him. “You weren’t kidding!” I double check, but the line of hanging wetsuits in the garden across the road only confirm my fears. “You’re dumping me on my mum?” I sound hurt. I am hurt. Perhaps he can’t cope with his ridiculous overprotectiveness either.

I feel his hand slide across my neck and grasp my nape, turning my face to his. “Don’t threaten me with Cornwall.” He’s grinning. And I start crying, like a stupid, hormonal pregnant woman. Through my unreasonable tears, I see his grin vanish and a look of anxiety replace it. “Baby, I’m joking. Anyone would have to slice their way through me to get to you. You know that.” He pulls me over onto his lap, and I burrow into his neck, sobbing stupidly. I’m being completely unreasonable, I know that. He would never leave me. What’s the matter with me? “Ava, look at me.”

I sniffle into him and reluctantly pull my head up so he can see my tearstained mess of a face. “I’m going to be so fat. Massive! Twins, Jesse!” My smugness from the hospital has long gone. All of the thoughts of torturing him with screaming babies and mood swings have just diminished. I’m going to be stretched to within an inch of my life. I’m twenty-six. I don’t want saggy bits and stretch marks. I’ll never pull off lace again. “You won’t…” I can’t think it let alone say it.

“Desire you.” He finishes for me. I nod my head, feeling guilty for being so selfish, but that look in his eyes when he has me in his arms, or anytime he looks at me, in fact—I don’t know what I’d do if I never had it again. He smiles a little and places his hand on my cheek, his thumb brushing gentle circles. “Baby, that will never happen.”

“You don’t know that. You don’t know how you’ll feel when I’ve got swollen ankles and I’m walking like I’ve got a melon wedged between my thighs.”

He laughs, really hard. “Is that how it’ll be?”

“Probably.”

“Let me tell you, lady, I desire you more with every day that passes, and I believe you’ve been carrying my babies for quite a few weeks.” He gives my tummy a little rub with his spare hand.

“I’m not fat yet,” I mutter.

“You’re not going to be fat, Ava. You’re pregnant, and let me tell you, the thought of you keeping a piece of me and you warm and safe makes me fucking deliriously happy, and…” He slowly thrusts his hips upward. He’s solid. “It makes me desire you even fucking more. Now shut up and kiss me, wife.”

I give him a cynical look, and he gives me an expectant one, delivering another thrust. It catches me perfectly, and I practically dive on him. I decide right here in this moment that I’m not going to
let
it happen. I shall be doing those pelvic floor things until I’m blue in the face. I’ll be running, too, and wearing lace when I’m in labor.

“Hmmm, there’s my girl,” he hums when I let him up for air. “Shit, Ava, I would love to rip those lace knickers off and fuck you stupid right now, but I don’t want an audience.”

“I don’t care.” I assault him again, raiding his mouth with my tongue and pulling at his hair viciously. He just said he’d love to fuck me. I don’t care where we are.

“Ava.” He struggles against me on a laugh. “Cut it out or I won’t be responsible for my actions.”

“I won’t hold you responsible.” I don’t give up. I’m pulling at his T-shirt, grinding myself down on his erection.

“Fucking hell, woman,” he groans.

I’ve nearly got him, but then there’s a hard rapping on the window right next to my head, and I pull back and gasp, quickly gathering my near-on unquenchable lust. We look at each other for a few seconds, both of us panting, and then slowly turn our heads in unison toward the window.

There’s a policeman. And he doesn’t look very happy. I’m quickly shifted from Jesse’s lap and placed on my seat, where I smooth my hair down and blush a million shades of red. Jesse grins that roguish grin as he watches me sort myself out. “That’ll teach you.” He lets his window down and turns his attention to the copper. “Sorry about that. Pregnant. Hormones. Can’t keep her hands off me.” He’s suppressing a laugh, and I gasp, smacking his thigh. He chuckles, grabbing my hand and squeezing. “See?”

The policeman actually coughs and blushes himself. “Yes…well…urm…public place.” He signals around in thin air. “Move on, please.”

“We’re visiting.” Jesse does the window back up, blocking any further stuttering and stammering from the red-faced policeman, before turning his mischievous face back to me. This is easygoing Jesse. He’s shameless, just like any other time, but adorable and lovable and all roguish. “Ready?”

“I thought you were taking me on a plane?” I love Newquay, and I can’t wait to see my parents, but Jesse all to myself is what I want right now.

“I am, after we’ve told my delightful mother-in-law that she’s going to be a grandmother.” He jumps out of the car and leaves me all horrified and suddenly not so keen on seeing my mum and sharing our news. The door opens next to me. “Out you get.”

I close my eyes, trying to gather some confidence. “How did you know where to come?”

“I called and asked for the address, and I believe that’s your father’s car.” He points to my dad’s Mercedes. “Am I right?”

“Yes.” My parents are obviously expecting us.

As we approach the front door, Jesse lifts my hand and kisses it sweetly, giving me a little wink. I smile at the irritating rogue. Then he snaps a pair of handcuffs over our wrists.

“What are you doing?” I pull against him, but it’s too late. He works those cuffs well. “Jesse!”

The front door swings open and Mum stands there, looking all lovely in a pair of cropped jeans and a cream jumper. “My girl’s home!”

“Hi, Mum,” Jesse chirps, lifting our cuffed hands and waving on a grin. I knew he would do that, and even though my poor mum has just staggered in shock, I can’t help breaking out in a huge smile. He’s all playful, and I love it.

She gets herself in a fluster and does a quick scan on the outside area before grabbing Jesse and hauling him into the hallway. “Get those cuffs off my daughter, you menace.”

He laughs and removes them promptly, quickly restoring Elizabeth’s smile. “Happy?”

“Yes.” She knocks his shoulder before moving in and squeezing me to her bosom. “It’s so good to see you, darling. I’ve got the spare room ready for you.”

“We’re staying?” I ask, accepting her hug.

“We fly out in the morning,” Jesse pipes up. “I thought we’d run a visit in before your mum starts thinking that I’m keeping you from her.”

Mum drops me and takes Jesse in her arms. “Thank you for bringing her to visit,” she says, squeezing him extra tight.

I smile as I watch him accept her hug, rolling his eyes over her shoulder at me. All of this isn’t for him. I know that he’d rather have me to himself any day of the week, but he really is trying, and I love him all the more for it.

“Make the most of it because I’m kidnapping her in the morning.”

“Yes, yes, I know.” She releases him. “Joseph! They’re here! I’ll make tea.”

We follow her down to the kitchen, and I gaze around, taking in the ever perfect neatness and preciseness of my parents’ home.

My dad is sitting at the kitchen table, reading a newspaper. “Hi, Dad!” I lean over his shoulder and kiss his cheek, and, like always, he tenses at my show of affection.

“Ava, how are you?” He closes his paper and puts his hand out to Jesse, who has made himself comfy in the chair next to Dad. “Is she keeping you on your toes?”

“Of course.” Jesse flicks me a look and I scoff.

After visiting the bathroom, I settle at the table with my dad and husband and watch quietly as they chat at ease while Mum makes tea, throwing little bits into the conversation here and there. It’s a wonderful sight. I’m so happy.

“I thought we could go down to The Windmill for dinner tonight.” Mum places the tea on the table. “We’ll stroll down. It’s going to be a lovely evening.”

Dad grunts his agreement, no doubt looking forward to a few pints. “That sounds like a plan.”

“Perfect.” Jesse places his hand on my knee and squeezes.

Yes, perfect.

L
adies first.” Jesse holds the door open, and Mum and I slip past. “Joseph.”

“Thank you, Jesse.” My dad walks ahead, leading us to a table by the fireplace that is lit with an array of candles rather than the usual logs and flames that crackle during the winter months.

“Drinks?” Jesse asks, pulling out a chair for me, but soon stopping me from resting my bum down when he notices it’s hard wood and free of anything cushioned. Leaving me standing, he quickly swaps it for a nearby high-backed chair with arms, upholstered in a regal green velvet.

“I’ll have a glass of white.” Mum perches neatly down and takes her glasses out to read the menu.

“Pint of Carlsberg for me, please,” Dad says.

“And for my beautiful girl?” Jesse asks, pushing me down onto the soft seat.

“Water, please.” I place my order with absolutely no thought, until my mum’s head flies up from the menu.

“No wine?” Her face is shocked as she looks over her glasses at me.

I shift on my seat and feel Jesse fidgeting behind me as he tucks me in closer to the table. “No, we need to get away early,” I flip casually, picking up a menu.

She still looks surprised, but she doesn’t push the matter further, instead pointing out the specials on the menu.

I feel Jesse’s hot breath at my ear. “I love you.” He kisses my cheek, and I reach up to feel out his stubbled cheek.

“I know.”

He leaves us at the table to order the drinks, and I watch as Mum reads out everything on the menu to my dad, and then proceeds to recite the daily specials from the various blackboards dotted around the bar.

“Have you heard from Dan?” I ask.

“Yes, he called earlier, darling,” Mum tells me. “He said that you met for lunch yesterday. How lovely. I told him you were coming down before you go on holiday, but he didn’t know. I’m surprised Jesse didn’t think to tell him.”

I’m not surprised, but Mum seems to be blissfully unaware of the animosity batting between my brother and my husband. “This was last minute.” I shake my head dismissively. “Jesse probably forgot.” I feel a tad guilty. It didn’t cost me a thought to let Dan know that I was out of London for a while.

I’m saved from further interrogation when a tray is placed on the table. Everyone takes their drinks, and my parents both gasp appreciatively around the rims of their alcohol-filled glasses. I look at my own clear-filled highball with as much enthusiasm as I feel for it, and then at my mum’s wineglass on a sigh.

“What are you having, then?” Mum asks. “I think I’ll go for the seafood platter.”

I lean over to Jesse and share his menu, my hand falling to his knee. He picks it up and absentmindedly kisses it, not taking his eyes from the menu. “What would you like, baby?”

“I’m not sure.”

“I’m having the mussels in garlic,” Dad declares, pointing at the board, which is displaying a mouthwatering selection of seafood dishes. “Bloody delicious.” He smacks his lips and takes a swig of his pint.

I’m torn. Seafood is a must, especially being so close to the sea, but what shall I have? The seafood platter, full of cockles, mussels, crab, and king prawns, or the mussels drenched in garlic butter with warm, freshly baked bread? My stomach growls, pushing me to hurry and fill it up. “I can’t decide.”

“Tell me what you’re thinking, and I’ll help you.” Jesse looks over, waiting for me to enlighten him on my quandary.

“Mussels or the seafood platter,” I muse.

His eyes bug. “Neither!” he blurts, drawing the attention of my parents, who both pause with their drinks halfway to their mouths.

“Why?” I turn a frown on him, but very quickly realize exactly why. He’s read something in that bloody book. “Oh, come on, Jesse!”

He shakes his head. “No way, lady. Not a chance. There’s some sort of mercury in fish that can damage an unborn baby’s nervous system. Don’t even try to defy me on this one.”

“Are you going to let me eat anything?” My brow is completely furrowed. I love seafood.

“Yes. Chicken, steak. Both are high in protein, and that’s good for our babies.”

I let out a frustrated protest and grab my water viciously. I’m going to lose my mind and probably be on Prozac by the time these babies arrive.

I’m so busy having a mental sulk, it takes me a few moments to register my parents’ stunned faces across the table.

Oh shit!

“Do it in style, Ava,” Jesse mutters, placing his menu on the table. I shoot incredulous eyes to him.
Me?

“You’re pregnant?” Mum blurts out, the information overload obviously registering.

“Ava?” Dad presses when I remain focused on Jesse, who is remaining focused on the menu that he’s just laid down.

I take a deep breath of confidence and bite the bullet. “Surprise,” I whisper, like a feeble copout.

“But you’ve been married for five minutes!” Mum gasps. “Five minutes!”

I watch as my dad places a calming hand on her arm, but that isn’t going to stop her. I can feel a rant coming on, in which case, I also feel a Jesse-style trample coming on. I can’t imagine him taking a critical speech from my mother too well. She’s right, though. We
have
only been married for a few short weeks. Not quite five minutes, but it may as well be. I dare not tell her how far pregnant I am. She’ll work out the time frames fast enough and soon calculate just how soon after meeting this man I got myself knocked up. I remain quiet, as does Jesse, as does my father, but not my mother. Oh no, she’s only just getting started. I can tell by the flex of her fingers on her wine glass and the drawing of deep breaths.

And then I get really worried because her eyes widen and swing toward Jesse. “It was a shotgun wedding, wasn’t it? You married her because you had to!”

“Thanks!” I laugh, thinking how obscene it is for her to say such a thing.

“Elizabeth.” Jesse sits forward, all stern, his jaw ticking. I fear the worst. “You know better than that.” He sounds so calm, but I can detect the irritation in his tone, and I can hardly blame him. He’s insulted, and so am I.

Mum huffs a little, but Dad interjects before she can retaliate. “So you didn’t know at the wedding?”

“No,” I answer quickly, taking my glass with both hands to prevent my natural reflex from failing me.

“I see,” Dad says and sighs.

“I can’t believe it,” Mum whines. “A pregnant bride suggests only one thing.”

“Then don’t bloody tell anyone,” I snap, feeling immensely pissed off with my mum and her reaction. I can’t blame her. It is shocking, more so than she’ll ever know, but to suggest I was rushed down the aisle because of it? That just makes me fuming mad. I don’t know how Jesse must be feeling. His twitching, tense frame should be a clue, and when he takes my left hand and starts twirling my wedding ring, I know that my mum is about to be trampled.

He leans forward, and I close my eyes. “Elizabeth, I’m not an eighteen-year-old lad being forced to do the right thing after a quick fuck about with a girl.” He’s not quite snarling at my mother, but as I open my eyes to gauge exactly how much fierceness we’re dealing with, I immediately notice him fighting a curling lip. “I’m thirty-eight years old. Ava is my wife, and I’m not having her worked up or upset, so you can accept it and give us your blessing, or you can carry on like this and I’ll take my girl home now.” He’s still twirling my ring, and even though he has just firmly put my melodramatic mother in her place, and quite harshly, I could kiss him. And slap him, too. He doesn’t want me worked up? Coming from him, that’s bloody hilarious.

“Now, let’s all just calm down a little, shall we?” my dad says, all calm and softly, ever the mediator. Not only does he avoid affection, but he’s not all that keen on confrontation, either. I notice he gives my mother a sideways glance in warning, something rare from my father and only delivered to his wife when he thinks it’s absolutely necessary. It is definitely necessary right now.

“Ava,” Dad says, smiling at me across the table, “how do you feel about this?”

“Fine,” I answer quickly, feeling Jesse squeeze my hand. I need to find a replacement for
fine
. “Perfect. Couldn’t be happier.” I return my dad’s smile.

“Well, then. They’re married, financially stable,” he laughs, “and they’re bloody adults, Elizabeth. Get a grip. You’re going to be a granny.”

I’m feeling pretty mortified. After what has just transpired, you would think we were a pair of teenagers. I smile apologetically at Jesse, who shakes his head in complete exasperation.

“I will not be a granny!” Mum chokes out. “I’m forty-seven years old.” She fluffs her hair. “I could be a nana, though,” she muses thoughtfully.

“You can be whatever you like, Elizabeth.” Jesse picks the menu back up, clearly fighting to leave it there.

“And you should watch your language, Jesse Ward!” She reaches over the table and flicks the top of his menu, but he doesn’t apologize. “Wait!” she shrieks.

“For what?” Dad asks.

Mum’s eyes are passing between me and Jesse, back and forth, again and again, before finally resting on Jesse, who has raised brows, waiting for her to advise us on what we’re waiting for. “You said ‘babies,’ plural. You said ‘our
babies
.’”

“Twins.” Jesse smiles brightly, all irritation and trampling signs disappearing in a split second. He rubs my tummy lightly. “Two babies. Two grandchildren.”

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Dad laughs. “Now that really is very special. Congratulations!” His chest swells a little in pride, making me smile fondly.

“Twins?” Mum jumps in. “Oh, Ava, darling! You are going to be exhausted. What are—”

“No, she won’t,” Jesse says, cutting her off completely before she can dig herself any further into his trampling pit. “She’s got me. End of.”

Mum sits back vigilantly and shuts her trap, and I melt on a little sigh. Yes, I have him.

“And you have us, darling,” Mum says quietly. “I’m so sorry. It’s just a bit of a shock.” She leans over and puts her hand out. I take it. “You’ll always have us.”

I smile, but realize instantly that I won’t actually have them. They live miles away from London, and with Jesse’s family well out of the picture, there will be no calling the grandparents to pop over and relieve me for an hour. There will be no popping in to see my mum for a cup of tea and a chat so she can see her grandchildren. I feel Jesse’s hand tighten around mine, dragging me from my unexpected, unwelcome thoughts. I look at him, and he gazes straight into my eyes.

“You have me,” he affirms, as if he’s read my mind. He probably has.

“Have you decided?”

I look up, finding a waitress armed with a pad and pen, ready to take our order. She’s smiling brightly, and she’s smiling brightly at Jesse. “I’ll have the steak, please,” I say, my hand slipping onto his knee instinctively, indicating the beginning of my own little trampling session. She makes no attempt to write anything down and doesn’t ask how I’d like it cooked. She just hovers, all starry eyed and dreamy as her greedy eyes run continuous trails up and down my god’s seated frame. “I’ll have the steak,” I repeat, minus the
please
. “Medium.”

“Pardon?” She rips her eyes away from Jesse, who is hiding a small smirk as he pretends to read the menu.

“The steak. Medium. Would you like me to write it down for you?” I ask tightly. I hear Jesse chuckle.

“Oh, of course.” Her pen hand kicks into action. “And for you?” she asks, looking at my parents.

“Mussels for me,” Dad grunts.

“And the seafood platter for me,” Mum sings. “And I’ll have another wine.” She raises her glass.

The waitress scribbles it all down before turning back to Jesse. She’s smiling again. “And for you, sir?”

“What would you recommend?” He blows her back a few meters with his smile, reserved only for women.

I roll my eyes as I watch her pull at her ponytail and blush profusely. “The lamb is good.”

“He’ll have the same as me.” I collect up the menus and shove them at her, smiling sweetly. “Medium.”

“Oh?” She looks at Jesse for confirmation.

“The wife has spoken.” He leans in and drapes his arm over my shoulder, but keeps his eyes on the waitress. “I do as I’m told, so it looks like I’m having the steak.”

I scoff, Mum and Dad laugh, and the waitress swoons all over her pad, almost certainly wishing that she had a god who did what he’s told. “You’re impossible,” I say quietly, as my parents chuckle and look across the table fondly at Jesse making a meal of eating my neck.

“Ava, that was really quite rude,” Mum chastises me. “Jesse can make his own meal choices.”

“It’s okay, Elizabeth.” He sucks on my neck a bit more. “She knows what I like.”

“You like to be impossible,” I quip, rubbing the side of my face into his stubble.

“I love watching you in trampling action,” he whispers in my ear. “I could bend you over this table and fuck you
really
hard.”

I don’t gasp or recoil at his crass words, spoken with no concern for the company we’re sharing. They were definitely for my ears only. I turn into him, pushing my mouth to his ear. “Stop saying the word
fuck
, unless you’re going to fuck me.”

“Watch your mouth.”

“No.”

He laughs and bites my neck. “Cheeky.”

“Let’s raise a toast!” Dad’s cheerful tone pulls us out of our private moment. “To twins!”

“To twins!” Mum chants, and we all clink our glasses in acknowledgment to the fact that I’m going to get really fat.

After Jesse pays the bill, we take a slow wander back to my parents’ house, Mum pointing out all of the sites to Jesse as we walk and chat. When we get home, Dad takes his usual seat in the window, armed with his remote control, and Mum fills the kettle.

“Bedtime tea?” she asks.

Jesse looks across the kitchen to me, clocking me yawning. “No, I’m taking Ava to bed. Come on, lady.” He walks over and rests his hands on my shoulders, then proceeds to direct me out of the kitchen. “Say good night to your mother.”

“Good night, Mother.”

“Sleep well,” she says, flicking the kettle on.