Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 160356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 802(@200wpm)___ 641(@250wpm)___ 535(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 160356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 802(@200wpm)___ 641(@250wpm)___ 535(@300wpm)
Dec’s arm goes around his boy protectively. “Changed so much?” he breathes in disbelief, his eyes suddenly darkening. Anger. I’ve seen it on him only a few times, and it’s not pretty. “Of course he’s changed, Chelsea, he was four weeks old when you left over four fucking years ago.”
Something in me clicks, and it overrides my fear and uncertainty, and Dec’s anger and whatever feelings Chelsea’s having.
Albi.
I don’t even know if it’s my place, or if it’s what Dec wants, but I don’t like the building anger in him, and his language tells me he’s not thinking straight. I hurry over to Albi, who’s still clinging to his daddy’s thighs, and crouch. “Why don’t you come show me the Spitfire Mr. Percival was telling you about?”
His scowling face pushes into Dec’s thigh some more. He knows. He knows something’s not right. Little sponges. I smile wide, using every ounce of strength I have to show him I’m not affected. Everything’s okay. I wish Dec could do the same.
“Come on,” I say, offering my hand. “Daddy needs to talk to the lady.”
Dec’s suddenly crouched with me, but he doesn’t look at me, his full attention on Albi. “I’ll be back in a minute, fella.”
“Where are you going, Daddy?”
“Nowhere. I’m staying right here. I’ll be a few minutes, I promise.”
“Come,” I say, taking Albi’s hand gently and standing, leading him away. He looks back over his shoulder constantly. Suspicious. Chelsea catches my eye. Her straight lips tell me everything I need to know. “Show me this Spitfire,” I say, my voice loaded with enthusiasm I’m not feeling as I lead him into the kitchen.
“Who is she?” Chelsea asks as we disappear. “A replacement for me?”
“I can’t replace something he never had,” Dec snipes. “What do you want, Chelsea?”
I grab Dec’s phone but meet a brick wall, the screen locked. “Do you know Daddy’s code?”
“My birthday!”
“Which is when?” I don’t even know that.
“June!”
“Do you know what day?”
“Fifteen!”
I type in 1506 and breathe my relief when the screen comes to life. Loading Google, I type in “Spitfire” trying not to listen but struggling when there’s no attempts to lower their voices. “Oh wow,” I say, lifting Albi onto the island and showing him the screen. “Look at that!” He takes the phone and stares down at the plane. “Mr. Percival flew one of these?” I ask.
“Yep. Over Germany!”
“Wow.”
“What’s Germany?”
“It’s a country,” I explain. “You’ll learn all about it at school one day.”
“Mr. Percival said he would teach me.”
“I want to come home,” I hear Chelsea say.
My body becomes stock-still as Albi chatters, his chubby finger swiping the screen to scroll through the endless pictures. I wait for Dec to speak. To tell her to fuck off. But he doesn’t. He says . . . nothing. And then the sound of a door closing reaches the kitchen.
“You sit there a second,” I say, lifting him onto a stool. “No stretching, remember?”
“Remember,” he confirms, lost in Spitfires.
I creep to the kitchen doorway and peek down the hallway. They’re gone, and the double doors to the lounge are closed. My eyes drop and dart to the floor, my heart sinking. I have no right to feel so shattered.
They were never mine to have. They’re hers. And she wants to come “home.”
To her home.
With them.
Where I don’t belong.
I turn around, watching Albi slumped over the phone, studying every picture of Spitfires he can find. He’s not mine.
I lost mine. Not for four years.
But forever.
I cover my face with both hands, squeezing my eyes closed. He didn’t tell her to fuck off.
I hear the front door open and drop my hands, seeing April breezing in, all smiles, followed by Blaine. They both falter when they see me, their faces falling. It takes everything in me to try and smile—try being the operative word. I feel completely lost.
“Morning,” I say, my voice cracked and broken. I go back to Albi, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and hugging him tightly. “Aunty April’s here now,” I say, sinking my face into his hair and taking in a strong dose of shampoo and Albi. Then I break away, forcing myself to hold it together as I go back into the hallway. They’ve got their coats off now. “Albi’s in the kitchen,” I say, heading for the stairs. “Dec’s got a visitor in the lounge.”
April frowns as I pass.
“I’m just going to get dressed.” I rush up the stairs and change into my jeans and jumper, grabbing all of my things and hurrying back down. I hear the sounds of astonishment coming from the kitchen, Albi no doubt showing his aunty and uncle his new obsession. I don’t want to say goodbye to that gorgeous little boy. But if Dec wants to keep his “family” intact and Chelsea comes home, I need to step aside. It fucking kills me, but I have to walk away.