Because of Them (Because of Love #2)

Chapter Thirty-Nine

MICHAEL

A udrey squeals as she gets out of the car. She tries to hide it, sucking the sound back in and forcing a cough, but I heard her excitement. I don’t blame her.

The facade of her new home is stunning, and I’m glad I left all creative licence to the designers and landscapers. Making things pretty has never been my strong suit when it comes to building houses.

A small, paved path cuts the front garden in two, surrounded by flowering shrubs of various sizes. The open paddock we drove past up the long driveway has been mowed, and Baxter bounds off the tray as soon as I unclip his lead to explore the space. I hope he doesn’t get used to having all this space, but at the same time I hope he can. His nose dives in and out of low spots in the grass, sniffing out what I’m assuming are field rabbits. Brendan said the pest control guy protected the house, but I have no idea what that means. As with most other finishing touches, I just went along with it. Still, I make a mental note to look up what we have to do, maintenance wise, to keep them outside.

Audrey hops from paver to paver along the path, her now natural brown hair flowing behind her. With a little encouraging, she finally went to the hairdresser last week. I was expecting the highlights to be back, but instead she trimmed off most of the blonde ends, leaving behind a shoulder length, light brown hairstyle that softens the sometimes sharp features of her face. She pauses before stepping onto the raised patio, taking in the cottage feeling facade.

Two rectangular planter beds line the front patio, rustic wooden boxes that will one day be overflowing with flowers. Until they grow and spread though, three lily plants are spaced evenly in the soil. White, hopefully. At least that’s what the woman at the gardening centre had said.

These plants were my one condition when I handed over the reins to the landscaper Brendan recommended. For new life and hope. That’s what Cassidy had said when I bought them for Audrey’s birthday, so it’s fitting that we have some permanently on display at our home. Ones that will never wilt. Ones that will, hopefully—if I can figure out how to care for them—never die.

Just like the love that fills our new family.

Audrey follows me up the steps, her fingers entwined in mine. I unlock the door and push it open. There’s awe in her breath as she takes in the wide, open hallway of the entry. Turning, I scoop her into my arms and carry her across the threshold. Full nineties rom-com style, and she loves it.

She giggles and squirms, twisting until she can kiss my cheek. Just as her touch always does, it sends a spark through me. One that tingles on my skin and fizzes in my bones.

“I thought that was a married couple thing,” she says.

“I’m just getting a head start.”

Audrey wriggles out of my hold and steps back. The awe filled smile is gone, and hesitation is plastered all over her face. She wrings her hands in front of her, pulling her cardigan tight. I reach a hand towards her, but she steps back until she hits the side wall.

“Michael I … I don’t know if I ever want to get married again.” My heart sinks to my stomach and bile rises in my throat. I thought we were good. And sure, I didn’t think we would get married any time soon, but I had figured that’s where we were heading.

Fun, that’s what she kept saying and I should have believed her. Should have listened when she told me so clearly that was all we were destined to be. I step back this time. I slide my back down the wall opposite her, dropping to my knees as my world begins to crumble.

“Fuck, that’s not what I meant,” Audrey drops to the floor and crawls over to me. She shakes her head and reaches out to tuck my hair back from my face. I flinch at her touch, turning my head and reaching up to tie my loose hair into a messy bun on the nape of my neck.

“I never imagined we would be more than something fun,” Audrey continues, even though I’ve shied away, looking at the shiny wooden floorboards instead of anywhere near her. “When we first started dating, when we first got together after we found out I was pregnant. I never expected to fall in love. But I did. I can’t imagine my life without you. And not because of the boys, but because I need you. I want to spend every morning waking up next to you, and fall asleep in your arms every night. I just don’t know if I want to get married. And maybe we should have spoken about it before but it never came up and I’m sorry. I did it once, and it fell apart. It hurt. Marriage is not for me. Not anymore. But you are, Michael.”

She creeps closer, nudging my legs further apart so she can sit between them. She wraps my arms around her and nestles her cheek against the crook of my shoulder. Her body is tiny in my arms, even all the bits she thinks are too big, or worries I don’t like. She is made to fit perfectly in my embrace and I don’t ever want her to leave.

“You’re for me too, Audrey.”

The silence that follows isn’t uncomfortable, and for the first time I’m happy to just sit, to find peace, in the quiet. A cool breeze blows in through the still open door and I squeeze my arms a little tighter around Audrey.

“Are you going to show me your house or what?” she asks as she shuffles out of my arms and pushes herself to stand.

I push myself onto my knees and wrap my arms back around her waist. Her tits look fucking incredible from this view, and I’ll never get tired of admiring her body, of worshipping her. “Your house,” I remind her.

She ignores me, rolling her eyes and pulling me up from my underarms.

I take her hand in mine and walk her through the house. Her eyes light up at the giant master bedroom. Pendant lights hang where the bedside tables will sit once we move in, and soft sheer curtains hang over the window. They shift the bright sun into a gentle glow that lights up the room.

In the kitchen, she marvels at the space, and the so-called butler’s pantry that is almost as big as the main kitchen. Marble bench tops are finished with a backsplash of tiles in an intricate zig zag pattern. The cabinetry is off white, with plenty of storage and large drawers in the place of most cupboards. I trusted the designer’s judgement, and it paid off. The space is beautiful. If someone had asked me twelve months ago if a kitchen would ever be my favourite room of the house, I would have scoffed. But here we are.

Audrey clearly loves it too. Her eyes twinkle as she caresses the bench top.

I stand next to the only blank wall in the room, the tiny sliver between the main kitchen and the pantry. “This is where I thought we could measure how tall everyone is. Each year.”

She skips towards me, happily turning to stand with her back against the wall and shoulders straight. With the pen in my pocket I mark her height on the wall. Handing her the pen, I swap our places. She has to stretch on her toes to reach above my head and once the mark is drawn I can’t help but tickle her.

“The next room is the most special,” I tell her, guiding her through the large main living space and into the sunroom.

Windows line the three exterior walls, with the same sheer curtains from the master bedroom. They look out into the garden, at the line of almost established fruit trees I had planted along the side fence and the gum tree we kept in the corner of the yard. The only pieces of furniture in the whole house sit in the centre of the room. A small stool, one that swivels and changes height and has a lower leg rest that can be used for crossed legs or pushed out of the way. And an easel. A light timber frame, large enough for the beautiful canvas pieces that have become Audrey’s signature style. One day, I might even add an easel of my own to the room. If she’ll let me. A small shelf lines the lower edge to hold all her paints and brushes.

Audrey freezes, just inside the room. Her eyes are wide and sheer joy is spread over her face as she takes in the space. Stepping in, she twirls to take it all in, before sitting in the chair. Her legs immediately curl underneath her, and I hold in the knowing smirk. The chair was the right call, even if Brendan said it looked weird.

“I wanted to put it closer to your bedroom, away from the busiest part of the house, but it wouldn’t get enough light. With these windows, you’ll get morning and afternoon sun, so it doesn’t matter what time of day you manage to sneak away and have some time to yourself.” I point my head above the windows to the large strip lighting that frames the perimeter of the room. “I added those lights, in case you ever want to paint at night. Or, you know, in Melbourne’s dreary winter. They are—and this is a quote from the lighting salesperson—‘the closest thing to natural light on the market’.”

She spins back and forth on the chair, her grin puffing up her cheeks until her eyes are squished almost shut. “Michael, you didn’t need—”

“I did. You deserve it.”

“Yes but it’s your—”

“No Audrey, it’s yours. Come on, I’ll show you the rest.”

She lingers on the chair, silhouetted by the warm sun that spills in through the sheer curtains.

“It’s not as special as this room though,” I tell her when she finally takes my outstretched hand.

“Michael, I don’t think anything will ever beat this room.”

It doesn’t. Her grin remains, but nothing I have left to show her brings back the intense joy that was filtering through her body in her painting room. She squeezes my hand as I show her Maisie’s room, with its feature wall of pale pink, as requested by our little ballerina. The boys’ rooms, opposite each other down the hall, each painted a sage green to match the blankets we bought them. The crisp but functional bathroom, complete with heated towel racks and a large bath. And finally, at the end of the hall, my bedroom.

I freeze, pushing open the door to the bare, eggshell white room. It’s not small, but it is technically the smallest of them all, designed as a toy room or spare room.

“And this is my bedroom,” I mumble. I shuffle my feet, opting to change the subject before my chest explodes with anticipation. “So, that’s your house, it’s ready. Whenever you are.”

“Michael, why do you need your own bedroom?”

So much for changing the subject.

My chin drops to my chest.

“Because it’s your house. Not mine. We said I would stay while the boys were little. So I could help. And at the old house there’s nowhere else for me to stay, so I share with you. But here, there’s space. So … my room. Because as much as I love you and want us to be together, I don’t want us to keep being forced into taking steps we don’t need to unless we both want to take them.” I gesture into the room without looking up at her, too scared to see what’s on her face.

Because I know what we said in the hallway no more than ten minutes ago, and okay we’ve been sharing a room for over a month, and okay she says she loves me and wants to be with me, but there is no reason for our relationship to keep moving at the speed of a formula one car. I don’t want us to slow down, but I can understand if she does.

I stare down at the floor, waiting for her response. I hear her take two steps, and her feet enter my line of sight, right in front of mine.

“Oh, you big dummy,” she says.

She pushes my chin up and brings her mouth over mine.