Trust - Page 111

Well…the clothes that were still strewn all over the floor.

“You okay?” I asked, as he kicked around, looking for underwear. I’d actually stashed clean stuff in the contraption next to the wall, the one which had hangers and drawers and all sorts. He’d never think to look there and instead picked up a pair, sniffed them, grimaced and dropped back onto the carpet before crawling into bed like the wet idiot he was.

“Yeah.” He grinned, planted a kiss on my cheek. “Good night. Did you watch?”

“A bit. Got a bit…you know.”

“Dull.” He smiled. “We won some. Lost a lot. I had my picture taken with that Kit bloke, though? You know? The guy from…that film.”

“Yeah.” I smiled. I knew. Hopeless. Both of us.

“And I chatted to a few interesting people. Got some good feelers out. Lee says hi, by the way. And he’s hosting some party in the summer, wants us to come.”

“Party?” I huffed. He laughed. Yeah. We weren’t really party people. We sometimes had people over for dinner, though. Just ordinary people, like Agnes and her hubby. Josh. Bash and Josie. I really liked Josie. Good food, good friends…

I swiftly added something else to my list. I loved when Gray cooked. Not only was he an absolute gourmet baby-food cook, but he also made nice things for us. Spicy curries and rich stews and delicate omelettes and stuff that I sometimes didn’t even know the names off.

“Can you make that lamb thing again this week? You know, the spicy thing you did the other day?”

“Yup.” He sniffled into my shoulder. “Can do. Might need to go shopping, though.”

“Order online.” I kissed his head. “Like a normal person.”

“But I like going shopping. Looking at things. Choosing things for myself. And making sure we all eat good nutritious food. Lots of vitamins. Iron. Lean proteins.”

“I know.” I smiled fondly. He did like shopping.

“I still want to buy new equipment for the park,” he mumbled.

“Not your place,” I reminded him. I didn’t want to repeat our stupid argument from this morning when he’d taken the kids to the playground, realised the equipment was rusty and then promptly tried to contact the council so he could donate some shiny new swings. Because his kids deserved swings, and the rust could be a health hazard.

I’d had to talk him down from that little diva outburst, gently explaining that a bit of rust never killed anyone and that the kids loved that climbing frame, and he really needed to chill.

He had. Thank God.

“I’ve got the money,” he said. “All that stupid Blitz money. I can do whatever I want.”

He could. I actually had no idea how much money he had. I knew what I had in the bank, and I spent it on my kids. Paid the bills. Upgraded my phone like a normal person. Saved up when I wanted things.

“Remember when Michelle got you those tracksuits?” He snorted like he’d just remembered something funny. I didn’t find it funny at all. I’d been saving up for this tracksuit, and I’d been in Michelle’s office, looking at it on my phone while I was waiting for Gray to get off some Teams call with some bigwig acting people. She’d snuck a peek over my shoulder to see what I was doing, and I’d arrived home to a massive box on the doorstep with that very tracksuit in every bloody colour under the sun. In the right size.

I’d shouted a little. But Michelle liked me, and her excuse was that she owed me for keeping Gray under control.

I did nothing of the sort, but I knew better than to browse on my phone in front of her now. Even so, she kept threatening me with more gifts, and she sent things for the kids. And bloody flower arrangements.

“We should go away. Just the four of us. Next week,” he suggested in a voice that was full of drowsiness.

“Your mum and dad are coming down next week.”

“Oh, yeah, forgot. All the more reason we should go away. They can have the house to themselves and go to the theatre or something. See an opera.”

“Gray.” I chuckled. “Your mum would kill you.”

“I know.” He was always like this, wanting to do things, coming up with weird ideas. He was worse than me. I’d lied when I’d said his therapy had worked. Sometimes he was a right handful. Not that I minded. He was mine. All mine.

We sometimes got the kids in the car and went on totally random road trips. Rented caravans. Stayed in budget hotels. Normal things. I loved when we did things like that. He said it made him feel free, like he could breathe, not be so bogged down with real life.

“Want a blow job?” I whispered. “Might get you settled. You’re all wound up.”