The New Beginnings Coffee Club: The feel-good, heartwarming read from bestselling author Samantha Tonge. Samantha TongeЧитать онлайн книгу.
I asked, softly. ‘She’s been cooking for you – for us all – since you were knee-high.’
April cocked her head and nodded. ‘ And …’ she lowered her voice ‘… I didn’t say anything to Skye, but sushi is yuk. This seaweed roll made me gag.’
‘So, the pool, Yorkshire puddings, and crumble tomorrow?’ I said. ‘You can borrow my swimming cap. And we mustn’t forget your asthma inhaler.’
April pulled a face. ‘But I hardly ever need it in the summer.’
‘Sometimes your chest doesn’t like chlorine.’
‘Okay. Yes. Just you and me, then.’ She leaned over for a cuddle. I almost choked on the strong floral whiff but suffered it for the sake of holding her tight. I gave a big sniff.
‘It’s Chanelle’s new perfume. She saves it for special occasions. Epic, isn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ I managed, but couldn’t stop myself from sneezing.
‘Let’s go inside, so I can show you and Daddy my goody bag! Skye says it’s filled with amazing stuff, just like the gifts at those parties movie stars go to.’
We headed into our house, called The Willows. Okay, scrub house. Think mansion. It boasted eight bedrooms, six en suites, two living rooms, a giant kitchen, and a massive nursery, which we’d now converted into a cinema room. Dot helped me run the household, along with her husband who could mend shelves or prune anything in the garden. It hadn’t felt like home for a long time, after I’d first moved in. Too much space and not enough clutter, I used to think.
April grabbed my hand and pulled me into the smaller living room, the one we used most when we didn’t have guests – the one in which I felt truly comfortable, with furniture that didn’t quite match and ramshackle bookshelves. I sat down on a floral sofa, whilst April ran over to Zak and gave him the biggest hug, almost knocking his laptop onto the floor. My chest swelled as I observed the little family I’d nurtured and helped to grow. She collapsed onto a fringed rug. He shook his head from his favourite brown leather armchair.
‘Whoa, my little princess, talk about a whirlwind.’ He gave me a tired smile, not one of his killer ones that made my insides melt. After all these years, I still admired the breadth of his shoulders under his crisp white shirt and the solid legs shown off by denim jeans. He ran a hand through chestnut hair that always looked as if he’d just showered and styled it. Slicked back, it showed off his face – the strong chin, dark eyes, and generous lips that promised – and delivered every sort of pleasure a woman could want.
My cheeks flushed at the thought. The sizzling chemistry between us had always surmounted any problem, though recently it had lost a little of its fizz, like champagne that had been uncorked too long. Zak worked hard – too hard, of late.
‘How did it go?’ he asked and stared once again at his laptop.
‘April wants to show you her goody bag,’ I said pointedly. He caught my eye. I winked and jerked my head towards our daughter. Zak was a busy man, so sometimes I prodded to let him know that little bits of attention meant so much to her.
He pushed his laptop to one side and raised both eyebrows. April grinned, crossed her legs, and dipped into the silver bag, to pull out item after glossy item.
I should have been used to the excess, after ten years of being married to a millionaire. What a difference from the party bags my mum and I used to put together for my birthday bashes. They usually contained homemade fudge, crayoning books, and pretty pens.
That’s another thing. When you have kids, you can’t help but compare their childhood to your own. And you try to remedy all the things that, over the years, you felt your parents did wrong. Yet the biggest shock is to realise that most of the time, they had it right. I used to hate Mum’s strictness over bedtimes but now saw how ratty April got if she had even one late night.
‘This make-up is ace!’ she said and cooed over a palette of metallic colours. ‘I must go and show Dot. She’s always saying she never knows what colour eye shadow to wear. Then I’ll take a photo of it with all the other stuff.’ She pouted. ‘I wish you’d let me join Instagram, Mum.’
Whilst Zak was right – kids did grow up quickly nowadays – when it came to social media, I’d always been firm. ‘You know the rules – if you have to lie about your age to join, it’s a no-no.’
‘But it has amazing filters that make you look better and all my friends –’
I folded my arms.
‘Fine,’ she mumbled and scooped up all the items. She headed out of the room and pulled the door behind her.
I stood up and stared at the door. ‘You don’t think she’s getting a bit … thin, do you?’ I asked.
Zak looked up. ‘This again? Stop stressing, baby. She’s just aware of healthy eating. They teach it nowadays at school.’
His eyes crinkled deeply at the corners, hardly surprising with all the hours he was putting in. I’d keep my concerns to myself for the moment. He clearly had enough to worry about. I didn’t want to burden him. I dealt with our domestic life. He ran the business. Team work at its best, I’d always thought. Despite the age gap, we seemed remarkably well suited.
Business must have really been booming. Mind you, even if Zak had more time to think about anything but profit margins and chasing the edgiest designs, it would take a lot for him to admit April had a problem. Despite his modern appearance, my husband had some hardened, old-fashioned views – and not taking mental health issues seriously was one of them.
I sighed but quickly plastered a bright smile on my face. Zak got to his feet. Strode over to me. Took my hands. Gently his thumbs circled my palms. I looked up into his face. Wow, he’d aged well. At forty-three my husband looked hotter than ever and not much older than me at thirty-two.
His athletic body moved forwards and I breathed in his musky scent. It prompted images of us making love to fill my mind. How his strong frame would hold me prisoner in a sensual jail I never wanted to escape. How he’d become my world after making love to me for my very first time. My heart squeezed. He looked worn down. I’d hated the distance between us lately.
‘Let’s go out to dinner, tonight,’ he said. ‘How about The Rose Garden? I’ll book a table for eight o’clock. There’s … something we need to discuss.’
‘Are you sure you feel like it, darling?’ Please say yes!
My heart leapt. If our favourite Italian restaurant couldn’t relax him enough to enjoy a night of carnal pleasures, then nothing could. Also, time alone together would give me a chance to broach the subject of my return to college. He was right. We hadn’t talked properly for a while. His voice sounded flat but I ignored that. He was making an effort and perhaps it was time I made more of an effort too. I … I could book us a relaxing weekend away with restorative treatments galore and –
‘I’m fine. But first I’ve got some business associates to meet …’
‘On a Saturday? Zak! You deserve more rest. Cancel it.’ I stood on tiptoe and kissed him softly on the lips but he pulled back and I sensed an air of tension. It was weeks since we’d last made love. Zak always came home shattered and went straight to sleep. Then when we did get close – like right now – he found it difficult to unwind. Good red wine and a bowl of the finest pasta would serve as the perfect aphrodisiac. My pulse quickened.
At least, I hoped it would. This feeling of a gap between us had appeared once before – when his mum got cancer. She told him first and he kept it to himself. Shut off. Avoided my company. Became irritable. More often than usual, he lost his temper. He said afterwards it was because he couldn’t face talking about it. So was Zak hiding something this time around? Only yesterday he’d been sitting in the lounge and had suddenly thrown his pen to the floor. Frustration over work, he’d said. It just wasn’t like him at all.
‘No can do.