I stared into the mirror, pausing my moment of wonderfuckery at what I’d drank the night before and moving ontowhat the hell is still on my facemixed withwhy in God’s name is Seph Callaghan here?
Last night had been fun. We’d stayed at the bar until just before closing when the more adventurous, non-parents and non-pregnant among us had headed home, the rest moving onto some bar or whatever. I’d drank slowly, remembering that I had no tolerance for it, and I’d felt perfectly fine when I’d gotten into bed after staring at my beautiful little girl for a good ten minutes, looking so angelic. Sleep was so good at creating a disguise.
Seph had come back into the bar all smiles and laughter and charisma, talking to everyone and charming anyone who spent more than a minute nearby.
I caught him watching me at least a half dozen times, and never once did he move his eyes away when he saw I’d noticed. Something told me I was unfinished business.
That business was now standing on my doorstep.
And I looked like death with a side of Halloween.
“Mummy, shall I let him in?”
Why was Seph on my doorstep at nine o’clock on a Saturday morning?
“Mummy, is it okay if I let him in?”
Fuckety fuck. Where was my sister when I needed her? That’s right, sleeping in because she hadn’t been woken by a four-year-old who thought she was a trampoline.
“Yes. Just this once because you know who he is. I’ll be down in a minute.”
Or twenty. I needed to shower and wash my face. And find my concealer because those dark shadows looked the same colour as the blue in petrol.
“Okay, Mummy!” My daughter sounded excitable, which meant Seph was about to be greeted by a small hurricane of little girl.
I hoped he was man enough to handle her, even if he wasn’t man enough to handle me.
There was noise downstairs and giggles. I locked the bathroom door and switched the shower on, hoping the noise woke Olivia, because I was bitter like that, even though Liv had babysat for me last night. Leaving my work colleague – because he’d made it clear that was what he was and when I was past the point of wanting to crawl back under my duvet and hibernate, I’d dissect my feelings some more, maybe dip them in bleach – with my daughter probably broke some motherhood rule, but I figured twenty minutes wouldn’t kill either of them.
I turned the water to as hot as I could stand it and felt a little life come back into me. The pressure was high and my skin coloured pink with the heat and the force of the water, but it felt good.
Seph had surprised me last night. I’d expected more of a bumbling apology, with anotherthat can’t happen again, but I’d gotten something that seemed like an expectation that I wanted to do it again, if he did. That was all well and good for my lady-parts who were more than happy with that idea, but by damn if he was calling this tune. He hadn’t liked that I was talking to Shay, and he didn’t like the idea of me dating, both of which told me he was interested. I might’ve been celibate for the last nearly five years, but I hadn’t forgotten what men were like.
I leaned back against the shower wall and closed my eyes, my lady parts waking up with the sound of male laughter somehow filtering through the floor, or maybe I was imagining it. Or maybe it was because it was Seph’s laughter, big and huge and contagious. The happy man who had a sensitive side that I’d noticed along with his biceps and those broad, broad shoulders, and those hands. Big hands, with a span big enough to grab my hips and pin me against this shower wall, his mouth on my neck, biting and nibbling, his tongue trailing along my collar bone, then kissing down to my breasts. I imagined his mouth on my nipple, his tongue flicking the nub, while one of the big hands cupped between my legs, his fingers encouraging my legs to part, one of them playing at my entrance.
It wasn’t Seph’s hand there. It was mine, but I pushed that nugget of reality out of the shower and reverted to my fantasy. I pictured him fingering me, one digit, then two, finding that button inside that almost made me lose control, before slowing down, his tongue licking a path from my breasts, over my belly, to between my legs where he feasted, sucking and strumming my clit, using his clever fingers to bring me closer and closer, until…
“Mummy! Mummy!”
The banging on the shower door clit-blocked my impending orgasm, my body automatically shutting down at breakneck speed thanks to the practice only a small child can give you with just one, shouted, word.
“Two minutes, Rose!” I yelled back, decanting half of Olivia’s favourite body wash in my hand, which she’d probably bill me for later.
Five minutes later and I exited the bathroom, my hair swept up in a towel to dry off and Olivia’s silky floral robe clinging to still-damp skin.
I never expected Seph to be standing on the landing having his hair put in a ponytail by my daughter.
I never expected his eyes to land on me like a starving man’s would on a gourmet buffet.
I never expected to turn into a walking Freudian slip.
“Sorry, I’m still getting wet.”
The words were out of my mouth like someone had greased them.
“Don’t you mean dry, Mummy? Seph’s going to paint my bedroom. I’m having a foonicorn.”
I didn’t have the ability to correct her pronunciation because I was too busy watching Seph trying not to kill himself with laughter.
