Christmas Hearts Page 2

  “You gave up your hair appointment for this?” I ask, but it’s not really a question because I know she did. What I’m stunned at is that she agreed to it. Monroe gives up her hair appointments for no one.

  “Let the record also show,” she says, the look in her eyes softening a touch, “that I did not do this for King. I did this for you. I know how stressed you’ve been the last couple of days with everything going on; you do not need to be anywhere near the supermarket today.”

  “Well let the record show that I love you in ways you can’t even comprehend right now. And you are absolutely right; if I’d had to go grocery shopping today, I may have lost any sanity I have left.”

  She reaches for my hand and squeezes it. “I got you, sister. And let’s be honest, I didn’t really need to get my hair done today. It’s only been two weeks since I saw the hairdresser.”

  “I know, but still, getting it done is a Christmas tradition for you.”

  She shrugs. “I’m starting a new Christmas tradition this year: twelve days of not talking to King. I think I’m gonna like my new tradition much more.”

  I laugh at that. There are days I’d like to start that tradition too.

  “Where are the kids?” Tatum asks Monroe.

  “Mum has Sage, and Hyde has Parker. Hyde got home just after five yesterday afternoon and Parker hasn’t left his side since. He’s been missing his daddy.” Monroe’s three-year-old son is the spitting image of his father and adores Hyde more than Cade adores King. And that’s saying something, because my son lives for his father.

  Monroe eyes Tatum. “I have more in the car. Can you help me bring everything in?”

  “I’ll help too,” I offer.

  “Are the kids okay without you?”

  “I’ve only got Cade home with me this morning and Zara’s keeping an eye on him. Mum took pity on me earlier and said she’d have Meredith and Travis for most of the day.”

  “Okay, let’s do this and then I’m thinking you should make me a G&T with more G than T. God knows I need it after stepping foot inside Coles today. And why does it have to be so fucking hot at Christmas? Doesn’t the universe understand that cooking all the food we have to cook, and dealing with all the kid stuff we have to deal with, and all the husband bullshit we have to put up with would be so much more bearable if we weren’t sweating our asses off?”

  “Yeah,” Tatum says, “I think maybe we’ll just skip the tonic altogether in your drink.”

  We make our way outside to Monroe’s car at the same time one of the club’s vans pulls into the driveway. Kick jumps out with a grin on his face. “Ladies,” he greets us, and then to me, he says, “I’ve got the drinks for tomorrow. Where do you want it all?”

  “Downstairs in the bar. The back door is open. Do you want a hand?”

  He shakes his head as he eyes Fury’s bike. “No, you keep doing whatever you were doing. I’ll get Fury to help me.”

  “I’ll let him know you need help.”

  “Thanks, Lily,” he says before heading to the back of the van to unload boxes of alcohol and soft drink.

  I leave Monroe and Tatum to go in search of Fury and find him out on the back deck cleaning the air conditioning filter.

  “I swear King only cleaned that recently,” I say.

  He glances at me. “Yeah, it’s not too bad, but I figured I’d clean it while I’m looking at it all. This isn’t the problem, though.”

  “You’ve figured out what’s wrong?”

  “No, it’s beyond my knowledge, but I’ve called a guy I know and he’ll be here in the next couple of hours to take a look.”

  “That is the second-best thing I’ve heard all day.”

  He turns quiet for a moment before saying, “King’s hopeful this shit in Melbourne will end soon.”

  Fury’s a lot like King in many ways, and his ability to read a situation well is one of their biggest similarities. He’s made a point of checking in on me every time he’s home from Melbourne. Making sure I’m doing okay with the kids and coping with King being away so much. Some days he’s been my saving grace, taking some of my load while giving me a few hours to myself.

  I nod at what he’s said. “Yeah, I know.” Then quietly, in barely a whisper, as if this will make it seem not as real as if I say it louder, I share my current greatest fear. “But this war has been going on for so long now that I wonder if it will ever end. And we’ve lost too many men…. I can’t lose King, Fury. I can’t.” Tears rush to the surface, and I try hard to force them back into hiding, but I fail. They stream down my face as all the pressure and stress and worry that’s been building for far too long refuses to remain buried a second longer.

  Fury pulls me into a hug, his strong arms providing me comfort in a moment when I’ll take any offered. “You’re not going to lose King, Lily. Fuck, he’s been shot enough times now and survived that it’s fair to say nothing keeps that man down for long.”

  I look up at him, my heart beating faster than it has in a long time as I contemplate the fact my husband isn’t invincible, even though he seems to think he is. “He’s exhausted, physically and mentally. Every time he comes home, there’s a new piece of him missing. I’m watching the man I love lose far too much, and in the process, he’s slowly losing himself.” I struggle to get my words out in between my sobs. “I need this war to end because I need my husband not to lose any more of himself.”

  Fury tightens his arms around me and allows my tears to fall in silence. When I get myself under control, I step out of his hug and say, “Thank you.”

  “You’re a strong woman, Lily, but even the strong crack at times. You need to let yourself crack more often. And ask for help. Zara tells me all the time that you barely ask her for help. She’s always ready to pitch in when you need her. And me too when I’m home.”

  Smiling, I say, “I’m so glad she has you. How are the wedding plans going? I haven’t had a chance to catch up with her on them this week.”

  He arches his brows. “Don’t change the subject. Tell me you’ll reach out more and then I’ll tell you about the wedding.”

  My smile grows. “I promise I’ll reach out more.”

  “Good.”

  “Well? The wedding?”

  “We finally set a date last night: the twenty-third of March. And I don’t give a fuck if this war is still going on then. I’m not waiting any longer for it to end to make Zara my wife.”

  Fury wanted to marry Zara as soon as he proposed, but she wanted to wait for everything with the club to have settled down. He’s been not-so-patiently waiting. I like that he’s put his foot down. My daughter can be stubborn like me; sometimes we need our men to take charge and show us what we actually need rather than what we’re telling ourselves we need.

  “Okay, now that you’ve given me some good news that I can focus on rather than all the bad, I came to let you know that Kick is out the front and wants you to help him unload the drinks for tomorrow,” I say.

  “Will do,” he says, and I make my way to the door to go back inside. As I’m entering the house, I turn back to him. “Tell me you got Zara two presents for tomorrow. She’s funny about only receiving one present to cover both Christmas and her birthday.”

  He grins. “I’ve got it sorted.”

  I should have known he would.

  As I move through the house in search of the girls, I think about everything going on with my family and the club. And about what Fury said. He’s right: I do need to ask for help more often, especially if things in Melbourne don’t change soon. King has hardly been home this year, and when he has, he’s been busy trying to give the kids the time they need, the house the attention it needs, and the club what it needs. Our relationship has taken a back seat and I’ve been okay with that because I understand everything at stake. Through it all, I’ve worked hard to handle stuff on my own in an effort to not burden King with more than he already has, but my current level of neurotic behaviour can’t be ignored.

&nb
sp; Something needs to give and I need to make that happen.

  2

  Lily

  * * *

  “Lily darling, I’m not convinced we have enough food for all the people coming for dinner,” my mother says. It’s just after 5:00 p.m. and we’re preparing for our yearly Christmas Eve family dinner tonight. “Between our family and King’s family, that’s a lot of people.”

  I take a deep breath. “At this point, Mum, I just won’t eat if we don’t have enough, and neither will you.” I actually don’t agree with my mother’s assessment, but arguing with her is a waste of time.

  “Lil,” my sister Brynn calls out from the dining room, “can you come in here and give me a hand, please?”

  Without acknowledging the look on her face at what I just said, I say to my mother, “Can you please check the roast while I help Brynn? And if Jamie comes in, ask him how the ham is going?” I’ve put my sister’s husband on ham duty since King isn’t here. He’s spent most of his time here this afternoon outside, alternating between tidying up the lawn and garden for me, swimming, and barbecuing the ham.

  After Mum agrees, I head into the dining room, grateful to leave the hot kitchen behind. Fury’s air conditioning guy fixed the air con about two hours ago and it’s heaven in the house now, but the kitchen remains warm because we’ve had the oven going for hours.

  Brynn’s eyes meet mine the minute I join her and she smiles. It’s the smile of a conspirator. “I don’t really need you. I just knew you’d be at your limit with Mum by now.”

  I drop down onto one of the dining room seats. “You are the best little sister in the world and I love you more than anyone.”

  She takes a seat across from me. “More than King?”

  “Right now, yes.” It’s a lie, but we joke about this often and Brynn knows just how much I truly do love her.

  “Any update on what time he’ll be home?”

  “No. I’m taking that as a sign he’ll be here for dinner.”

  “Okay, so you know I’m on board with you trying to be calmer, but I kinda think we need to prepare you in case he doesn’t make it for dinner.”

  After Fury told me to ask for help more often, I called Brynn and begged her to come and spend the day helping Zara and me. I didn’t need to beg; she was more than ready to do as I asked. Monroe and Tatum stayed for a while too, and helped me set up for tomorrow. Hailee and Evie popped over as well, and with everyone’s help, I have everything under control for Christmas. Cade even came through for me and cleaned up his room.

  “The Christmas Crazies have disappeared, Brynny. You don’t have to worry about me.”

  “I’m more worried for King.”

  “Mummy!” Meredith runs into the room and flings herself at me, distraught. “Travis won’t let me have my book!”

  “Which book?”

  “The one Daddy gave me!”

  I place my hands on her arms. “Daddy has given you a lot of books, Meredith. Why don’t you choose a different one to read?”

  “No! I want Matilda.”

  This now makes sense to me. King gave Matilda to her the last time he was home. She’s barely let go of it since then.

  Brynn stands and moves around the table to us. Reaching for Meredith’s hand, she says, “Come with me, baby. We’ll get your book off Travis.”

  I shoot her a look of appreciation and watch the two of them exit the room. Less than a minute later, Mum sticks her head around the corner. “Darling, we need to make this trifle.”

  “Yeah, we do.” I follow her into the kitchen, ignoring the ache in my feet and wishing I’d chosen a much faster dessert to make than the chocolate trifle I found online a few days ago. However, I chose this because trifle is King’s favourite dessert and there’s no way I’m not making it for him. Spoiling my husband with his favourite food is something I love to do. Even on the days I want to smother him.

  Mum and I spend the next hour and a half assembling the trifle, finishing off the roast pork and veggies, making sure the ham is cooked perfectly, and getting everything ready for dinner. Brynn and Jamie organise the kids. Zara and Fury arrive, and my daughter surprises me with a chocolate pavlova with spiced pears and butterscotch sauce she made.

  “Oh my God, Zara, this looks divine!” I gush as I take a good look at it. “Thank you!”

  “She practiced it the other night,” Fury says. “I can tell you it tastes as good as it looks.”

  “Holy shit, Zara,” Holly says, joining us. “Can we just skip straight to dessert?”

  I motion for Holly to come to me. “Get over here and give me a hug, baby girl. I feel like I haven’t seen you for years.”

  She rolls her eyes but does as I say. “I was away for a month, Mum.”

  I wrap my arms around her and squeeze tightly, not wanting to let her go. “Yes, and it felt like years to me.”

  She extricates herself from my hold. “I hate to tell you but I think I have the travel bug now. I’m already planning my next trip.”

  “Oh God, please tell me this one is to a safer destination than where you’ve just been.” After spending the last month worrying not only about King and the club, but also about Holly who was traipsing around countries that any mother would prefer their child not to visit, I’m not sure I can survive that again.

  “Relax, Mother, I’m looking at Canada for my next trip.”

  Before I can respond, the back door opens and Skylar enters the house with her current boyfriend, Tristan. I wasn’t sure if he was coming because the last time he attended a family gathering, King was an asshole to him. I like the guy and am impressed he’s come back for more.

  Skylar’s eyes meet mine and she smiles big. “Your air con is working again!”

  I hug her. When I pull away, I smile at Tristan. “Hey, Tristan. Good to see you.” After he returns my greeting, I look back at Skylar, touching her hair. “I love, love, love this cut on you. When did you get it done?” She’s cut her long hair and it now sits just below her ears.

  “Last night. I’ve never gone this short before, but this damn heat inspired me.”

  “I love it, too,” Zara says.

  Skylar takes Tristan’s hand and moves further into the kitchen so she can catch up with Zara and Holly. Travis and Meredith run in to join us, having heard their aunt’s voice. Cade follows shortly after, and suddenly I need some space. There are too many people in here for me.

  Leaving them, I make my way to my bedroom at the front of the house. I have a new red dress to wear tonight, and I want to quickly tidy up my hair and face.

  I’ve got the dress on, my hair sorted and am halfway through my make-up when I hear the rumble of King’s bike outside. I know it’s his and not anyone else’s because, after eight years of being married to him, I could pick his bike out anywhere.

  Hoping the kids haven’t heard him—because I desperately want to steal a few moments alone with him—I quietly let myself out of the house and hurry down the stairs to where he’s parking the bike in the garage.

  It’s been just over three weeks since King has been home. We’ve spoken every day, but some of those conversations were rushed because he’s been occupied with club stuff. These three weeks have been the worst of the entire year for me. I don’t know if that’s because things have been more intense with the club, resulting in King feeling distracted and disconnected from us, or whether I’m just so exhausted that I’m not coping as well as I usually do. Either way, I’m glad he’s home now.

  Complete overwhelm consumes me as I watch him take his helmet off and turn my way. Relief floods my body and tears threaten. I don’t let them fall, though; that’s the last thing he needs on his plate.

  King looks as tired as I feel, and yet the closer I get to him, I see the spark of heat in his eyes. That same heat pools low in my belly.

  God, how I love my husband.

  Regardless of how little energy we both have left in the tank, I know tonight is going to be spent getting our fill.r />
  He reaches for me, gripping my arm and pulling me hard against him. No words are exchanged between us; the only sound filling the hot night air is the buzz of cicadas singing their song.

  Every ounce of tension in my body falls away as King does the thing he always does when he comes home. His hands and eyes roam over my body. It’s his way of checking no harm has come to me while he’s been away. He does it with the kids too.

  When his eyes find mine again, the desire blazing in them pushes me over the edge. I curl my hand around his neck and hook a leg around his. I need to be in his arms with all my limbs wrapped around him.

  He knows my needs—we’ve done this dance thousands of times during our marriage—and slides his hand under my ass so he can pull me into his arms.

  Our lips crash together and my body hums with the kind of electricity only King creates. His deep growl of satisfaction vibrates through me as he carries me from the garage to the connecting entertainment area and into the bathroom in there.

  Kicking the door shut behind him, he drags his mouth from mine and rasps, “Fuck me, I’ve missed you.”

  It’s not often King expresses his feelings in this way. I know he misses me, but he rarely tells me.

  I reach for his belt the moment he places me on the vanity, my mind warring over whether to have a conversation over him missing me or whether to fuck him. Sex wins—it usually does—and it turns out that while King may have uttered those words, he also has no intention of carrying on a conversation.

  His hands are under my dress before I’ve managed to undo his belt.

  My panties are on the floor before I even get to the button on his jeans.

  He’s bent down to run his tongue along my pussy before I realise what’s happening.

  My fingers tangle in his hair as I arch my back and express my pleasure.

  I’m going to come faster than I ever have. Three weeks without him and I’m a mess of frantic need.