Never Enough (23 page)
“What if it goes wrong?” She twisted her fingers.
“You’ve broken up with people before and he hasn’t gone off the rails. I mean it would suck for you on a few levels, but people do it all the time. They have perfectly cordial relationships with their ex for the sake of the kids. And both of you love Miles. So part one, check. Miles is just fine. And now that we’ve cleared that up it’s on to part two.”
Gillian held a hand up. “I need a bracing sip of tea for this, I’m sure.”
Jules smiled, looking sort of predatory. “Pfft. Does he get you off? Is it hot sex? ’Cause I gotta tell you, he looks like he knows what he’s about when it comes to fucking.”
She should have known this is how Jules would respond. Hell, maybe that’s why she’d told her to start with.
“Yes. He’s—astoundingly creative.”
Jules’s face brightened and she laughed in her quicksilver way.
“Yeah? Like how?”
Gillian had long since given up trying keep her reserve around Jules. It simply wasn’t possible. “Well, to start with, he’s tireless. When he stays over we’re on each other every time we’re alone. He’s very”—she shivered, thinking about just how to put it—“intense. Dominant. Rough, but in the right way, if you know what I mean. Also”—she took a quick look to each side before leaning in closer to her friend—“he’s a dirty talker.”
Jules fanned her face. “Girl. You don’t say? ’Cause, whew.”
“I know.” Blushing wildly, Gillian looked back to her plate for a moment.
“So clearly you and he are a fit, and we both know how hard it is for a woman to find a man who can deliver what she likes in the sack when your likes might be a little unusual.”
“It’s not inappropriate? He’s my son’s father. I’m a mum! Shouldn’t I be, you know, chaste and such?” There was no need to comment on the unusual reference in what Jules had just said. Gillian had told her what she liked a long time ago.
“How is that inappropriate? You do know how babies get made, right? Although, okay, perhaps that may not be a road you want to go down.”
Gillian laughed, finding levity in her friend’s horror.
“He can’t remember her. I don’t know why it doesn’t bother me, but it doesn’t. Most of the time Tina didn’t even really seem like she existed outside my childhood memories. I can’t be jealous of a ghost. Especially when she is just nowhere in my life to get in the way. I loved her, despite her flaws. But I don’t worry he’ll compare me to her.”
Jules nodded, thoughtful. “This makes sense. Not that he’d have much to compare even if he did remember her. You’re all curvy and sexy. You mother like a fucking warrior. You’re recommended by four outta five.”
Gillian snorted. “Well, that one doesn’t count. He was a mercy fuck. God, see how I am?”
“And how is that? Funny? Self-deprecating? Of course he wants you. You’re beautiful and talented and you smell all pretty like a lady should, and even rock stars like that. How do
you
feel about all this?”
you
feel about all this?”
She talked about it for a while, about Adrian’s life and his family. The close-knit nature that made her glad for her son and the double edge of that. The fear they’d take him somehow, or that Miles would find her wanting in the face of all that.
Jules just listened, refilling her tea and occasionally moving to deal with a new customer.
“If he tries anything, you’ll win. You’re the primary parent. You’ve done well by Miles. That boy adores you. No amount of mansions with home studios are going to change that. You have to trust the job you’ve done with him. None of us would allow them to hurt you or Miles. You have to know that. Mary would drive her truck right into that pretty face of his if he even tried. You know how we had to hold her back when you came home from that meeting.”
“I must be remembering it wrong then. I was under the impression it was
you
we had to hold back.”
you
we had to hold back.”
“Tomato, tomahto.” Jules winked. “Anyhoo, I think you underestimate how much that boy adores his mom.” She shrugged. “However, I’m so glad you’re telling me all this.” Jules moved to slide onto the stool next to Gillian. She put her head on Gillian’s shoulder.
It had been hard, especially at first, to share her doubts. Her flaws and all the small, not-so-nice stuff in the corners of Gillian’s mind. She’d lived with a mask on so long it was hard to let to go long enough to be vulnerable with someone.
But Jules wouldn’t allow it. In her own way, of course. She pushed and poked and was just there until Gillian took a risk and shared. Just a little those first few years. But she’d never judged.
In the years since, Gillian had come to trust Jules Lamprey more than anyone else on the planet.
“I know you. You’re trying to think about this in the way that makes you look the worst. Stop it. Let yourself enjoy this thing with him. Of course he wants you. Good gracious, he’d be an idiot or gay to not. You said he’s a star in bed. Is he nice to you when he’s not putting his penis in your hoo-hoo?”
Gillian laughed until tears ran from her eyes. “My what?”
“Your fertile fields. Your pink garden of delight. Your po-po. Cooter. Cootchie. To get British—your fanny. Your cunt, pussy. Dare I say, your vagina. Do I need to have the talk with you? Last I remember, you had a few things to teach
me
, so stop pretending you don’t know what I mean.”
me
, so stop pretending you don’t know what I mean.”
“I knew what you meant, you git. Though you know how much I love the term
cooter
. So very romantic, you Americans.”
cooter
. So very romantic, you Americans.”
“That’s us. Candlelight and soft music. All the best love words ever. Also you’re an American too.”
“Half, anyway.” She laughed. “Yes. Yes, he’s nice to me when we are not engaged in carnal relations. He’s fascinating. Creative. Magnetic. He excites me sometimes with how he sees the world. I love to hear him talk about his music. I like him. A lot. And I don’t know if it’s that he’s got this thing about him, this whatever it is that makes someone a celebrity or star. You want to look at him when he comes into a room. He has this voice, well, you heard it. That drawl thing and he sounds like sex on legs. Did you notice? Wait, no, don’t tell me that. I don’t want to know.”
Jules took her hand and squeezed it before she hopped off the stool and wandered off. “I’ve never seen you so nervous and fluttery. You totally go gooey for this guy. I like that.”
“I suppose I am. Which makes me distrust it. I’m not one for fluttery and gooey. I like being in charge of all my parts. He sort of takes several of them over.”
Gillian ducked her head, blushing as Jules hooted laughter. “That is awesome! You deserve this, Gillian. Don’t second-guess it. Let yourself be happy. Let yourself fall a little crazy in love with someone. Go a little wild.”
“I’m someone’s mother! I can’t go wild.”
Jules only rolled her eyes. “Oh, for poodle’s sake, of course you can. For you wild is how other people stay sane. Eh? I mean Gillian wild, not Daisy wild.” Daisy was another friend, a total wild-child artist. Gillian absolutely adored her, but they were very different.
“Well. Maybe. He”—she licked her lips, trying to find a way to say it—“I feel like I can let go with him.”
Jules moved closer, though the place was nearly empty at the moment. “Then do it. Baby, how often do you let go? Really? If he rings your bell and he’s doing it in a way that is not hurting you or Miles, ring it like it’s dinnertime.”
“I’ve got to go before you talk me into those strip-aerobics classes or something. I have a lesson in an hour and a thousand e-mails to deal with. I shall be taking this pear tart with me.” She grabbed the pink box on the counter. “And give you proper credit with Miles, though he’ll know everything baked and sweet comes from you, as I am such a disaster with a baking sheet.”
“I’ll see you both Thursday, if not before. And Friday night is club night. I know Mary told you to bring Adrian, so be sure you invite him or I will pester you until you do anyway.”
Gillian tossed some money on the counter just as she turned to go and headed to the door, not stopping when she heard Jules exclaim when she saw the money.
“Bye, Juliet Lamprey, goddess of pastry. I will see you anon.”
Miles had gone to bed, and as had been their little ritual, Gillian and Adrian headed outside. Her back deck had become one of his favorite places, he had to admit. Even as winter approached, it was still lush and the fire pit kept them both comfortably warm, but they still used a blanket as an excuse to sit close.
She’d taken the time to let him know Miles’s jazz band was having a performance and he’d rushed back from a quick trip to San Francisco so he wouldn’t miss it.
“Our kid is a damned good musician.”
Gillian nodded and sipped her tea. “He is. I used to always think he got it from me, but apparently not so much.”
“Why not from both of us? You’re an incredibly talented piano player. You have a design business, which is also very creative. The boy gets all sorts of artsy stuff from each of us.”
He liked when she revealed these small bits about herself. She was so reserved and guarded about her past that it was often a trial to get her to share things about her past.
“Tell me something about yourself. Something I don’t know.”
“Like what?”
The firelight on her skin only made her more beautiful as she turned to smile up at him.
“Anything.”
“Miles didn’t walk until he was fifteen months old and I was so freaked out that I’d messed up and he was delayed that my gran and Miles’s doctor both had to shake some sense into me and tell me he was just fine. About three weeks later, he took his first step and was pretty much climbing, running and giving me a heart attack with all the new danger he could get into.”
He laughed, imagining this buttoned-up woman in a panic about something like that.
“When did you walk? I mean, were you an early or a late walker? Apparently I was super early. Brody says it was to keep up with Erin, which is probably the truth.”
“I believe it. You and your sister are partners in crime. I can only imagine what you two were like as children. I like that you’re all three northwesterners, born and bred. This is my favorite part of the country out here with the trees and the water.”
“I lived in L.A. for a decade. I’m there enough still, to deal with business stuff. I love the beach and the sun, but Seattle always calls me back. I can be quiet here, you know?”
She nodded. “I do. This is the place I decided to raise my baby. On purpose. I’ve just always felt at home here.”
“Do you miss England?”
She shrugged. “There are things I do miss, yes. But this has been my home for longer than England was. I’m British at heart in many ways, but Miles is so much more American than I am.”
“You never thought of going back?”
She blew out a long breath and he knew they were reaching that place where she got more and more stingy with her past.
“For the first little while I used to imagine going back when I was an adult. But really? Everyone I care about is here. My child. At the time my grandmother, and then school. I haven’t been back since we left.”
“We should take Miles. He should see that part of his roots.”
“That has nothing to do with him. His roots are here. With me and with you.” Her voice had tautened, gotten clipped, and he knew she’d be less and less willing to share after this point.
“You can trust me, you know. I understand enough that you didn’t always have the best childhood. But how can I know you if you don’t let me in?”
“None of that has anything to do with Miles. Or with you and me. It has nothing to do with trust and everything to do with me not wanting to talk about or give it any more time and emotion. I’m done with that part of my life.”
And how could he argue with that, really? She’d told him about Miles, some about herself, and in doing that, she’d exposed herself to him, made herself vulnerable.
“Fair enough.” He put an arm around her, pulling her closer. “Just, you know, don’t stop sharing. I like getting to know you. I’m not going to judge you. You’re safe telling me things.”
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