The Letters (Carnage #4)(22)

Tallulah is the only one of our children to get my blue eyes. The other three have dark eyes like their dad.

I wonder what colour eyes Baby M and Beau would’ve had?

“Shit, Kitten you made me jump.”

And it’s those kinds of thoughts that are tearing me apart. Two of my children had to die in order for the other three to exist. Is that how it works? I am not a believer in God, but surely if he did exist, he wouldn’t force us to make choices like that?

“Georgia?” Cam interrupts my theological musings.

“Wha?”

“I said get your arse over here, woman.”

I blink a few times before stepping fully into the room and making my way over to him.

I climb sideways into his lap. He wraps one big arm around my back and one across my hips, sliding his hand up my T-shirt so he can cup my bare arse and pull me into him.

He rubs his nose into my hair, over my ear, and down my neck. I tilt my head to the side, allowing him better access. Enjoying the sensation of goose bumps spreading across my skin from each point of contact his nose and warm breath make.

Wrapping my arms around his neck, I turn myself to face him. He’s biting down on his bottom lip and his eyes are searching my face, looking sexy as f*ck while he does it.

“Georgia, would you tell me if I ever weren’t enough for you?”

What. The. Actual. Fuck?

I open my mouth, but he speaks again before I can.

“I know I don’t get the whole music thing and your love of it. I can’t paint, or draw, or design clothes and furniture. I’m not always good with words. I can’t write songs for or about you like he did, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love you any less than he did. I just …”

My eyes fill with tears, and I don’t even attempt to stop them from falling as I interrupt him.

“No. No, Cam. Please stop. Of course you’re enough. You’re everything. Too much sometimes.”

I hold his face in both my hands and kiss him repeatedly, speaking through my tears.

“I love you, Cam. You’re my whole world. You and the kids are the reason I exist. You’re my everything. Every-f*cking-thing. Please don’t ever doubt that. These last few days, yesterday especially, have been horrible. I really thought I’d pushed you away. That you were finally sick enough of my bullshit to leave me.”

“I’d never leave you, Kitten. Never, and it pisses me the f*ck off that you’d think for a moment that I would.”

“Well, that’s how I feel about you thinking you’re not enough. Why would you ever think that? You’re more man than most women could ever handle.”

Cameron King is the most confident—almost to the point of being arrogant—man I’ve ever met, and I absolutely hate that I’ve made him doubt himself.

He tilts his hips up and makes small circular movements, grinding his dick into my arse.

“I’m not talking about the size of my dick and the ability I have to f*ck you into multiple orgasms with it.”

There he is. That right there is my Cam. My TDH.

“Then what, Tiger?”

“I can’t write you love songs or send you love letters telling you the way I feel.”

So, that’s what this is all about? I might just set a torch to those bloody letters and never read another word.

“But he didn’t have a nine-and-a-half-inch dick.” My attempt at humour fails miserably.

His face remains blank as he blinks his eyes whilst staring at me for a few seconds.

“What the f*ck has that got to do with anything? My dicks bigger than most blokes.”

“And most blokes can’t write songs or a love letter like Sean McCarthy.”

“I’m well aware of that; I’m one of them.”

“But I don’t need you to, Cam. That was his thing. That’s what I had with him, and it’s irrelevant to you and me. That’s not what I have with you.”

“No, all you get with me is a big dick and multiple orgasms.”

“And four beautiful children and the confidence to know that I’m loved, worshiped, and adored every single day of my life.”

“I didn’t give you that yesterday. Yesterday you thought I was leaving you.”

I drop my head back and stare at the ceiling in frustration. I can just make out the mural of a unicorn standing on a cloud and farting a stardust-sprinkled rainbow out of its arse that’s on my ceiling.

I had it painted to remind me that life isn’t always perfect. My life most certainly hasn’t been and wasn’t now but it was perfect for me, for us.

Sometimes in life, bad things happen just because. It’s not “meant to be” and it’s not “God’s will”. It just is. My life isn’t about fluffy clouds, stardust, and rainbow-farting unicorns. It’s about everything that’s on the walls beneath the hand-painted sky above our heads. It’s family photos of kisses, cuddles, and laughing smiling faces, pure happiness and joy. It’s hand prints filled with our family rules and inspirational quotes, the pencil-marked walls showing the kids’ heights since the day they could stand. It’s love, warmth, temper tantrums, loud music, and chaos. Barking, bum-sniffing dogs, muddy football boots, and shit-covered riding boots left in the hallway. It’s Harry, George, Lula, and Kiks. It’s Cam and his rules and lack of technological know-how. It’s me and my terrible cooking. It’s everything that I thought I’d never have and everything he gave to me.