The Story of Me (Carnage #2)(98)
“Move in here.”
“What?”
“Move in here. Until we can find somewhere we want to buy together, move in here. It’s safe and secure. The press will leave you alone and I get to see you every day.” It all makes sense when he says it. It sounds like the most logical thing to do, but in my head, in my head all I can see is that old tumble drier full of socks of my mum’s going around, every sock representing a different thought, feeling and emotion rolling around in my head, chest and belly. “Let’s not waste any more time, Kitten. Let’s just be together.” I smile up at him. He looks tired, his eyes glassy. They remind me of the colour of a beer bottle today; it must be the brightness of the room.
“When did you get so clever?”
He gives me a smile and a shrug. “I’ve always been this clever. You’ve just never paid enough attention.”
I smile back. “You’re probably right.” We look over each other’s faces silently for a few moments.
“Pack a case when we go to your mum’s later and we’ll go and fetch the rest of your stuff tomorrow.”
“I haven’t said yes yet.”
He gives a small shrug. “But you will.”
We spend the rest of the afternoon looking at houses online, Cam ringing the agents and making appointments to view five, two on Thursday and three on Friday, all of them within a half hour drive of my parents’ and each of my brothers’ homes. Now I just have to tell my family my plans, which should be interesting.
Chapter Twenty-Three
We head over to my parents’ home at about five. Benny greets us as we climb into the back of a black Range Rover with blacked out windows. I’m not sure who’s in the driver’s seat, but I say hello as we climb in.
It’s freezing outside and there’s just one lonely photographer standing on the path outside Cam’s apartment block as we pull away. I actually wish the windows weren’t so heavily tinted so I could flip him my middle finger.
“Who’s car’s this?” I ask Cam as we pull off into the city traffic. He puts his arm across the back of the seat, pulls me in and kisses the top of my head.
“It’s yours.” What?
“Mine? I don’t have one of these.” I sold every car that Sean and I owned, except Hilda. I would never sell her.
“You do now, Kitten. I bought it for you.”
“Why? I don’t need you to be buying me a car.” He lets out a long sigh. It makes my hair move, which gives me goose bumps and makes my nipples hard in an instant.
Sean and I had chemistry; ours was borne more from knowing each other so well. We loved each other and sex was one of the ways in which we expressed our love. We had times when things got a little routine, but it was never boring. We liked to mix things up in the bedroom. We travelled a lot and were pretty adventurous when it came to finding new places to have sex: planes, boats, cars, backstage offices, but what I have with Cam is something else altogether. Whatever we do, however many times we f*ck, I want more, all the time. I just want more.
“I know you don’t need me to, but I wanted to. I spoke to Bailey and he said you only had that shitty old banger you used to drive. Seriously, Kitten, I can’t believe you’ve still got that piece-of-crap car.” I want to smack him right in the mouth for that comment. In a split second, I’ve gone from wanting to f*ck his brains out to wanting to punch his face in.
“My husband bought me that car,” I say quietly. His head swings around to face me, his mouth hanging open.
“Oh, shit, Kitten. I’m so sorry. Honestly, I had no idea.” He reaches across and takes my hand. I deliberately leave it limp, resting in his.
“Kitten?” he says quietly, “Please, I didn’t know. I just… shit.” He’s quiet for a few seconds, obviously thinking about what he’s going to say next, just in case he puts his huge size twelves in it again. “I just want you safe, Kitten. If you’re gonna be driving about, I want you in a car with a driver who’s gonna be able to keep you safe from the paps and any other arsehole who wants to make a nuisance of themselves.” Now I feel bad. “I didn’t know your husband particularly well, but I’m absof*ckinlutely positive, he wouldn’t have wanted you running the gauntlet of all those photographers every day in your old car, and anyway, Scotty here would never fit behind the steering wheel.” My belly does a little backflip at the sound of Cam talking about Sean. He does it so casually, like it’s not an issue for him. So why am I struggling with it?
I look towards the driver’s seat and can see that Scotty fills the whole area, his head skimming the roof interior and his shoulders are much wider than the seat.
“Why does it matter whether Scotty fits in Hilda? I have a licence. I’m quite capable of driving myself.”
“Did Sean let you drive yourself around?” Again, my stomach lurches at the sound of Cam mentioning Sean.
“Yeah, I drove myself if Sean wasn’t with me. Milo was usually with us when Sean was around.”
Cam lets out a huff. “And Dave was with you when Sean and Milo weren’t, Kitten. Don’t lie to me. I know most of the security team who worked for the band. They all worked for me and your dad at some stage.” I don’t know why I’m arguing with him about this. I won’t win. “I don’t know why you’re wasting your breath arguing with me about this, Kitten. You won’t win.” And I hate that he knows it. “This is your car and Scotty is your driver and close protection when I’m not around. Your brothers and your dad are on board with this and your mum actually insisted on it.”