The Story of Me (Carnage #2)(135)
I roll my eyes at him. “Wow, thanks, where do I go for a refund.”
“That’s not nice, Kitten.”
“Neither is sucking your cock. It makes me gag. It’s too big. Your cock’s built for f*cking, not sucking.”
He throws his head back and give me his big Cam laugh. “You have such a way with words, Kitten. I love the f*ck outta ya.” And just like that, he slides inside me.
We spend the next half an hour having early morning birthday sex. We had dinner out last night and stayed over at the Mandarin Oriental in London’s Knightsbridge. My parents had stayed at our place to look after Harry and we are both keen to get back home to see him.
I’ve never had a living, breathing child of my own, so I can only gauge my love for Harry on what I felt for baby M and Beau, and what I feel for my other three unborn children, which equates to complete and utter, unconditional love. That little boy may not be of my flesh and blood, but I couldn’t love him any more if he was and neither could my family. They really couldn’t care less about his genetics. As far as they are all concerned, he is one of ours and is loved as such.
We haven’t heard from Tamara since the day we brought Harry home with us. Cam has continued to pay money into her bank account and withdrawals have been made throughout London and various parts of Europe. He knows she’s probably spending the money on drugs, but he’s not happy to think that she’s out there without a penny. At the end of the day, she’s Harry’s mum and Cam will always do right by her, and I honestly have no problem with that.
We call my mum and have a quick chat to my parents and H, who at four months old, has very little to say for himself.
I take a shower, and when I step out to the living area of the huge royal suite, breakfast is waiting for me.
“God, I’m starving,” I say to Cam, who’s staring out of the window with a coffee cup in his hand. He turns toward me with what I can only describe as a combination of fear and concern on his face, and I suddenly feel too hot and too cold all at once as panic starts to creep in. “What’s wrong?”
His eyes widen. “Nothing, why?”
“You look really worried.” He gives me a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes and I feel like icy cold fingers are sliding around my heart.
“Sit down and eat your breakfast, Kitten.” He heads over to the table and we both sit down. I watch him as he pours me a coffee, still feeling a little bit unsure. I look down at my plate piled with scrambled eggs and take a mouthful. I look up at Cam, who’s staring at me.
I swallow what I have in my mouth and say to him, “Okay, you’re starting to freak me out now. What the f*ck’s wrong?”
He laughs, nervously this time. “Nothing’s wrong, Kitten. Eat up.” I take another mouthful and that’s when I see it. Buried beneath the pile of eggs is the distinct blue colour of a Tiffany box. I put down my fork and look across at Cam, who right about now is a colour not too dissimilar to the box, perhaps a shade more green.
I pick up my fork and scrape all of the egg from the box and give it a wipe with my napkin.
“I wanted to put the…” He stops whatever it was he was about to say. “Nothing, doesn’t matter.” I take a deep breath and open the box. Inside sits the most beautiful emerald cut diamond ring. The main diamond is surrounded by lots of smaller ones and the band of the ring is made up of diamonds. It’s stunning.
Before I get a chance to speak, Cam slides down onto the floor in front of me and takes my hands in his. The fact he has got himself in such a state over this makes me want to just say yes and put him out of his misery before he throws up everywhere, but I decide to hear what he has to say.
The man who’s usually described in the papers as an East End bad boy and night club Lothario is on his knees in front of me. He takes the ring from the box and looks at it for a few moments and then brings his eyes to meet mine.
“I’ve tried to think of a million different ways to do this. I’ve tried to think of every flash, fancy way that I could impress you, and then we were sitting at home last Sunday and I watched you with Harry, trying to get him to eat all those veggies you tirelessly steam and mash up for him. I watched as you spooned it into his mouth and then laughed as he spat it out. You had as much on your face as he did on his, and watching all of that made me realise, you don’t do flash or fancy. You’re not fussed about unique or being impressed. After everything we’ve been through, the lives that we’ve already lived. What we have survived to get to this point brought me to the conclusion that all that matters, is you, me and our family. I love you, Kitten. I’ve loved you for a very long time. Whether we’ve been together or apart I’ve loved you, and I know that tradition dictates that I get down on one knee and do this, but you deserve so much more than one knee. So here I am, in front of you now, on both knees, asking you, would you please make me the happiest man alive and do me the honour of becoming my wife?” He reaches up and uses his thumb to brush away a tear from my cheek.
“Yes, Tiger, of course I’ll marry you.”
*
As we head down the lane to our home, I can see Jimmie’s car at the gates. She’s standing at the intercom box holding her phone. We pull up behind her and both get out of the car.
“Your box is all bashed up, G,” she says with a smile. “This box not that box.” She gestures between my legs. “Although, after spending the night in a hotel with Mr TDH and his famous nine-inches, I don’t suppose that box is looking too pretty, either.”