It’s the last day of the Manchester tour. We can spend a few days before leaving. There are mixed reactions to this. I’m excited to move to another city but reluctant to leave all the memories we created here. Calum doesn’t care as long as we are by his side.
“What are you thinking?” Calum asks.
His lips brush the space between my boobs. Hooded eyes stare at me, causing a flip in my belly. My lips part, but my reply dies on my tongue as his hairy jaw scratches my nipple. I shiver, and he offers me a wicked grin. On some days, like today, I find it impossible to believe this man was a virgin until me. I run my fingers through the mess of his hair. His fingers dip into my warmth, teasing a little to remind me how we spent our night. I’m quickly relearning his taste.
Calum is always super hyped after every performance and if I don’t get away from him as fast as possible, we will fuck in whatever space avai
Dad’s here. Oh my God. Dad is here. Dad. Jason. Rose and Taylor. I’m vibrating with happiness, too stunned to move or react. Calum nudges me with his hip, and I snap out of it. I jump into Dad’s arms, trying to draw all four of them into a hug.Laughter rings out around me as we tear away from the group hug. Dad grins. I smile but it wanes when I notice more of his grey hairs. I pat the greying hairs at his temples and his hand covers mine. He has aged.“You came,” I say to him.“Calum arranged it,” he replies.I hug him again. Only him. My tears wet his shirt as he strokes my lower back. A tug on the hem of my top forces us to break apart.“Mama,” Mace says. Squatting to his height, I offer him a weak smile. He wipes my wet cheeks, and his lips purse. “Mama. No cry.” “No crying for Mama,” I whisper. I hear a chorus of awws and oos, but I don’t look around. Handing Mace to Calum, I take turns hugging my best friends. I hug Jason last, and I hug him the longest. He’s a huge reminder
CALUMI asked Pete’s permission to marry Cathy. I also asked Mum, and she was overly excited to give her blessings. Having both parents blessings builds my anxiety. I pace the entirety of our room, my sweaty palms closing and opening. Cathy is with her friends. Mace is with his grandparents.The phone on the bed rings. I jump. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath and stalk to the bed to pick up the phone. It’s a missed call from Lucas. He didn’t even let it ring. I unlock the phone as a text from him enters. Luc: stop worrying. She will say yes.I roll my eyes at my screen, but a smile tugs the corners of my lips. Cathy has no choice. She’s my wife. Walking back to the front of the mirror, I smoothen my tux and adjust my stripped tie. My curls cling to my scalp, thanks to the excess gel I applied earlier. I massage my clean-shaven jaw, and the same hand slides to the back of my neck.The last time I had to dress formally was when I was Cathy’s music teacher. I spin as the door opens
My ring is pretty. Too pretty. I stretch my hand in front of me and wiggle my fingers. Calum is all smiles beside me, and the rest of the table have similar grins. We changed tables when everyone arrived. Two bottles of wine sit open on the table. My glass is as full as it was when we shared a toast to my future with Calum. I can’t drink or eat with all the butterflies dancing in my belly.“Now we can call you Mrs Dissick,” Lucas says. The whole table laughs. They are all dressed so formally. No suits for them but matching button-up shirts and tailored slacks. Lucas even wore proper Oxford shoes.Rose smiles, and Taylor mirrors it. They are seated side by side. She glances at Calum, her red hair whooshing as she cocks her head.“You’re about to marry your stepbrother,” she whispers. Her voice is loud and carries round the table. The table falls quiet as nervousness creeps in. She brings her glass to her lips, offers a remorseful grin and gulps the entire content down. “Cheers.” Luca
I should have taken Calum’s suggestion of a family dinner date. As I stare at the sauce in the pan, the colour changed by the black pepper I poured in, my brows wrinkle. This is not good. I touch the spatula to my palm to have a taste. It’s not horrible nor tasty but it’s edible. Turning off the cooker, I grab the plates for dinner from the cabinet.A kick from inside my belly has both hands lowering to cup my bump. I fold the hem of my shirt to reveal my protruding belly. This pregnancy is so much easier with Calum. I have someone to bother when the midnight cravings sweep in. Grabbing the plates and tray, I dish out dinner for Mace and I. Calum will be home past his son’s bedtime, thanks to Scott and the new album the band will be releasing next month.Through the open kitchen door, I try to spy on Mace. But the curly blondie is nowhere in sight. He must be playing with the guitar his dad gifted him on his last birthday. I’m not sure I want him to follow the same path as both of his
“Okay. I’ve got one for you, Cathy.” My eyes narrow as Amelia says this. I already know what my answer will be—a big fucking no. “I dare you to walk over to that guy and kiss him.” I roll my eyes without looking in the direction she points, expecting the other girls on the table to laugh with me, back me up or stop her from trying to get me to embarrass myself. But nope, they do nothing but look on with amusement. No way. Amelia folds her arms, a perfect brow lifts as she waits for me to do something. She has got to be kidding, right? I look again, at one of my best friends but she returns the look with a smug smile. The consequences of befriending the school bitch, the geek and the artist. They come up with the worst dares for their beautiful and carefree friend. I grip the table with a groan, hoping and waiting for her to take back her words. Nothing. “Why him?” I ask. “Don’t know. Who wears sunglasses in a pub?” The other girls nod in agreement. I swear they will nod to a
“That was super hot,” Rose, the redhead in our group says. She is the artist. “Go and do it again.” “No.” Jesus Christ. That guy is a sexy, pompous dickwad. “It wasn’t hot and I’ll not repeat it.” “Yes, it was,” Taylor, the brunette, supports. She is the geek among us and the smartest. I finish the rest of her chapman and her eyes narrow in fake anger. She ditched her glasses for contacts tonight and she keeps squinting. “But it wasn’t a real kiss.” To me, it was. Rose makes kissy faces at me. “I wanted to watch you two kiss. Muah. Muah.” “I think he likes you, Cathy,” Amelia says. It is her first time talking since I returned to the table. I ignore her. She set me up for this. “Don’t know. He wants me to follow him,” I say to no one and everyone. Rose hands me my bag. She is seated on my left. “His hotel is behind the pub.” Taylor retrieves her phone from her purse. For the next few seconds, she types on her phone while I nurse my empty glass. The stranger is still there,
There are three things you must never do. One, kiss a stranger. Two, kiss a hot stranger. Three, kiss a hot stranger you might never see again. Why? Because if the hot stranger is a good kisser, you will never forget about it. And for the rest of your life, you will compare the kiss with others. I groan into the pillow and drag myself out of bed. C has ruined my life. I kissed Jackson on the first day of school but it was different. It didn’t feel like C’s soft lips. It wasn’t demanding and gentle. Hot and needy and delicate. It was just Jackson. I push down those thoughts once I’m in the bathroom. Amelia will start honking like a little angry bitch if she gets here and I’m not ready. I round up to the room for a change of clothes and finish off in front of the mirror. The dark roots of my hair contrast with the pink flowing down my shoulders. Dad hasn’t gotten over my new hair colour. Dani, my stepmom, thinks it’s cool. I think she’s cool. My phone vibrates on the vanity and
“What do you think about your new brother?” Dad asks once we are inside the car. He doesn’t start the car. I wish he would so we can be out of here and away from anything that reminds me of Calum. “Your brother seems cool.” The relief I’ve been feeling since we left the house melts away. I click my seatbelt into place and tuck my bag between my legs. “He’s not my brother.” All it takes is one stern look from my dad for me to say, “I don’t think anything about him. Can we just go already?” Dad’s hand reaching for the key in the ignition drops. My head hangs in shame. “Sorry, Dad.” “Sorry for what?” “For raising my voice at you.” Since that day, he has been so conscious. Both of us. We have to hold each other accountable. He doesn’t look away and I lift my gaze to blue eyes matching mine. I have naturally black hair while he has brown. Dad takes my hand, the one with the tattoo. His finger hovers above the semicolon tattoo but he doesn’t touch it. He knew when I got it. “I just wa