Resolution (Saviour #2)(84)

“This song Lauren.” Gabe laughs and looks down at his guitar, then up at me and swallows, oh my god, he’s fighting not to cry, my hand goes to my mouth and Jemma reaches for my free hand.

“This song is a favourite of Ava’s and she said to me the other day in the car that every time she hears it, she thinks of me singing it to you…And I’ve got to say, despite the fact I am not and never will be a fan of One Direction, this song really could have been written by me, for you.”

He nods his head and counts the girls in the three of them start to play their guitars and Gabe starts to sing a song about how much he loves my belly and my freckles and the fact that I can’t fit in my jeans and how I was made just for. I cry like a baby and so do Sam, Stella and Jem, I even see Ryder wipe a tear from under his eye; there is complete silence when Gabe finishes singing, until Ava lets out a big sob and throws herself into her Dads arms, I get up slowly and join the pair of them in a group hug.

“I’m so happy Lauren, I love you so much and I love that you make my Dad so happy.”

I’ve cried so much my head is pounding and my eyes are sore, I really want my bed but everyone else now seems to have decided that they want to party; Stella finds the karaoke show on one of the music channels and we all take turns singing into empty bottles to our favourite tunes; the kids are all either sent to bed or inside the house to play on the play station and the adults, except for me of course, all enjoy a little smoke of something that has been grown hydroponically. The sun is starting to rise and the kookaburras are laughing by the time Cooper and Jake help me get Gabe into bed, there are blankets and bodies everywhere as I leave them all to it and I crawl into bed, exhausted, beside my very drunk, very stoned, very happy, gorgeous husband to be after what has been, quite possibly, one of the best nights of my life.





CHAPTER 24





I’m dragged from sleep by the unusual sound of chatter coming from the house and garden and I can also hear splashing in the pool; I force my eyes open, for a change Gabe isn’t wrapped around me but is lying on his back, one arm bent at the elbow and covering his eyes, the other lying across his hips, his hand over his crown jewels, as if protecting them, he’s kicked the doona completely off himself in the night and apart from his boxers, he’s gloriously naked and I take my time looking over him, I can see his lashes fanning out across his cheeks, I push myself up on one elbow to get a better view, his nose is very straight, his nostrils quite wide, his philtrum is quite deep as it runs down to meet the perfect bow of his full top lip. Lips that have kissed and sucked every inch of my body. My face burns at that thought and for a few seconds I fight to control the anxiety that starts to crush my chest. Why? Why does the thought of him kissing and sucking and licking every square inch of me almost bring on an anxiety attack? I’m a grown woman, we are a pair of consenting adults, and we are in love with each other.

There, there it is again, the little rush of panic and as much as it pisses me off, even to admit it to myself, it’s because of the self-doubt I still have. I know that he loves me, he’s fought for me, for us, he’s begged me to come back to him when I left and he begged me to marry him until I agreed and last night in front of all our friends and family, he stood up and told them how much he loved me and how happy he is that I have agreed to become his wife and then he sung me the most beautiful love song, in front of everyone, no shame, no embarrassment, he sung to me. So what more do I need, what more can he possibly do to convince me that it’s me he loves, me he wants to spend the rest of his life with? And finally, finally it starts to sink into my stupid, self-doubting brain, that there is nothing more he can do, he’s done what he can, the rest is up to me, up to me to finally accept that I am worthy of this second chance, worthy of this beautiful man and the life and love he wants to share with me and I resolve to myself, that from this moment, I will no longer question or doubt him, I will accept and enjoy everything he wants to throw my way. From his inexperienced words of love, to his absolute expert sexing skills, I will take it all and enjoy, every word, every look, every touch and every thrust he wants to send my way, without question. I let out a big sigh, well that’s that sorted then.

My brain still doesn’t want to shut up. Perhaps it’s because I’ve had so few of these moments over the last couple of months, moments where I have him here beside me but he’s not distracting me with his words and looks and his touch or his thrusts but instead he is silent and sleeping and looking content, his hand isn’t scratching over his stubble covered jaw, I am actually getting the chance to study him and consider all what I feel for him. Then I get that panicky feeling in my chest again but this is a different kind of panicky. I am happy to admit and live with the fact that I love him beyond measure, I do wonder why though, in such a short space of time that has come to be the case?

I loved Jason passionately, from the very beginning I would get butterflies every time I thought about or saw him and then as the years went on, it was still there, when his key went in the door at night, when I answered the phone and it was him calling me unexpectedly, I would still get butterflies as I always did, I’m not even sure when it started to change. I know with mobile phones things were different, if we had an argument the night before and he called, I could choose whether or not I wanted to speak to him and then as the boys got older I could decide whether or not I wanted to be home when he got in if we had fought that morning or the night before and then it had eventually changed so much that I didn’t actually want to be there when he came through the door, ever, I didn’t want to speak with him on the phone. I deliberately ignored 90% of his calls and only answered if I really had to. For the past few years he made my belly flip more from fear than from love or passion, or any kind of desire but none of that was my fault, he, Jason had caused that, I would have loved him till my dying day if he hadn’t of become so violent and aggressive towards me, even when he apologised and begged my forgiveness, it eventually meant nothing to me, I had heard it all before, I knew the pattern, he would lash out at me either verbally or physically, or both, then he would be sorry and we would cry and have the best sex ever and all would be good and calm and happy for a few months and then there would be a gradual build up again, weeks of me not being able to do anything right, weeks of him arguing with me over the smallest thing and me being me, always had to make things worse by coming back with a smart answer, despite knowing what the likely outcome was going to be, I still had to open my smart mouth and give back as good as I got, verbally that is, physically I could never match him, but then gradually, I stopped fighting back, I stopped wanting to, I no longer cared about his spiteful words, I no longer cared about the backhanders, the throat squeezing, the hair pulling, I didn’t care about him and I certainly didn’t care about me and for about a year, I just let it go on, I lost myself, I stopped being me and just accepted the situation.