Page 42 of All Mine (The All Mine #1)

Etienne

Etienne woke with George poking his fingers up his nose. He snorted, or sneezed, and George dissolved into a fit of giggles. He was practically sitting on Etienne’s head.

‘What are you doing in my bed, Uncle Et?’ George said as Etienne pulled himself up to lean on the headboard, pushing a hand through his hair. It snagged on something sticky which smelled of peanuts.

‘I must have fallen asleep,’ Etienne said, stretching.

‘And why are you wearing Daddy’s shirt?’ George ran his fingers over the fabric.

‘Because you– YOU. . .’ Etienne said, grabbing the boy and tickling him hard, ‘got sick all over me!’

George squealed and wriggled out of his grasp. He slid off the bed saying, ‘Oops, sorry about that!’ As he widened his eyes apologetically, George looked so much like Fox that Etienne had to laugh.

He ran a hand over his face, scratching his stubble, then checked his watch, wondering how much sleep he’d had.

It had been a mad, crazy day yesterday. Thank God for Isabella who had been brilliant.

He couldn’t remember exactly what time it was when Isabella went home.

. . Wait. He sat bolt upright. Had she gone home?

The last thing he could in fact remember was lying on the bed with George in fresh pyjamas after his bath, to read him a quick bedtime story.

He’d thought it would only be a minute and he could slip off and leave him to it, go back downstairs and clear up.

And then, he might have helped himself to a slice of Isabella if she was still on the menu.

He remembered the look between them. The promise.

But he must have fallen asleep. He threw the Power Rangers duvet off and sprang out of bed, taking the stairs two at a time.

George sat on his bottom and bumped down behind him.

Dingbat nearly wagged his tail off to see him in the kitchen and stood pointedly in front of his doggie bowl.

Etienne threw him a handful of dog biscuits and then turned in wonder on the spot.

It was unrecognisable from the ruins of yesterday.

The kitchen was gleaming. The washing-up was dry on the rack.

The table was scrubbed. The floor was immaculate.

No signs of playtime or mealtime or worse.

He definitely needed to message Isabella and thank her. He hadn’t expected this.

‘Can I have my tablet time now, please?’ George asked, pointing at the iPad, and Etienne nodded, relieved to see the boy looking so much better.

‘Go get comfy then and I’ll bring us some breakfast,’ Etienne said, lifting the front of the bread bin to explore the contents. George plodded off, already navigating to his cartoons on the screen.

As Etienne had delivered his mini-master a plate of hot bagels and jam, he noticed the Lego boxes cleared away and the reading books stacked back on the shelf.

He reached for his phone; he should message Isabella.

She’d done so much. He cringed at the thought of being asleep while she cleared up.

She must be livid. He heard a creak overhead from Reggie’s room and pocketed his phone again.

It would have to wait. He needed to think of the right words. He’d do it once he was home.

Taking the stairs two at a time again, he headed along the landing to Reggie’s room.

Pushing open the door, he stopped dead in his tracks.

Reggie was sitting up in bed, both fists rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, hair flat on one side.

And Isabella was sleeping on a bunch of cushions on the floor, wearing yet another of Fox’s checked shirts.

Reggie blinked his eyes open, frowned at Etienne and pointed at Isabella.

‘Why is she on my floor?’ he asked loudly, and Isabella pulled herself upright groggily, immediately looking towards his bed.

‘Feeling better, Reggie?’ she asked and he nodded happily. ‘That’s good.’

She crossed her legs and stretched before spotting Etienne and attempting a laugh. Her hair was wild, her mouth was sleep-swollen, and her bare legs peeked out under Fox’s shirt. Etienne exhaled slowly. The things he wanted to do to her.

‘Breakfast?’ he asked instead. Reggie tumbled out of bed and ran whooping down the stairs.

An hour later, Reggie was dressed and fed. George was dressed apart from his joggers, which he had put on the dog. All three of them were playing happily in the front room. Isabella sat at the breakfast table with her legs tucked under herself, nibbling toast.

‘Quite a night, eh?’ Etienne said as a starter.

‘When I heard that everyone wanted to spend the night with you, I don’t think this was quite what they were imagining.’

He spread his arms to take in the kitchen. ‘I do want to thank you, though. The clean-up was amazing. But staying with Reggie when he was sick was above and beyond.’

‘Didn’t seem fair to leave, you’d have two of them on your hands,’ she said, pushing her plate away. ‘Think it’s put me off my food, though.’ He nodded. He knew the feeling. He’d only managed coffee himself.

‘So, we’ll have to replan the giving of the birthday present,’ he said and she lifted her head in surprise.

‘You can’t be talking about that with me looking like this, sitting here covered in vomit and just out of bed.’ She laughed self-consciously.

‘Oh, believe me, I can.’ He saw the colour hit her cheeks and his dick hardened. Today might not be the day, but he couldn’t wait much longer.

A key in the lock and the front door opened. Fox staggered in, hair more tousled than ever. One of his shirt buttons was done up wrong and he looked decidedly hungover.

‘Daddy!’ The boys hit his legs like mini tornadoes, nearly taking him out.

‘Go gently with me, boys, I’m a broken man,’ he whispered, which only seemed to work in reverse as they climbed up his legs.

He gave in, kneeling to hug them both in the hall before dragging himself through to the kitchen.

The boys followed. In the doorway, Fox looked first at Etienne and then eyed Isabella, both wearing his shirts.

‘What is this? Fancy dress? Let me guess, you’ve both come as me?’

Isabella tugged her shirt down a bit lower. Etienne pushed his sleeves up.

‘I was sick on Uncle Et!’ George said proudly.

‘And I was sick on Isabella!’ Reggie said, pushing out his pigeon chest. ‘Twice!’

Fox whipped his head from one boy to the other.

‘Uncle Et slept in my bed,’ George said. ‘He snored LOUD!’ He started snoring impressions to demonstrate.

‘Isabella didn’t snore,’ Reggie said, considering. ‘Maybe it was because she was on my bedroom floor.’

Fox turned wide eyes to Etienne for clarification. Etienne and Isabella both nodded.

‘Oh God. You should have called me!’

‘Never,’ Etienne said. ‘I called in reinforcements.’ He nodded at Isabella, who saluted Fox with her coffee cup. ‘How was the meeting?’ Etienne continued. Dingbat barked in the garden and the boys ran out to play.

Fox collapsed into a chair and rubbed his face.

‘The meeting was good,’ he said. ‘In fact, brilliant. The investors like the extension and they think it’s going to be big. Let’s hope they’re right.’ ‘Big’ in Fox’s gaming world meant big money. Big advances for new games and big payouts on sales. It could change his life. And that of the boys.

‘So, what did you have to stay on for?’

‘Dinner and schmoozing,’ Fox answered, averting his eyes. ‘Nice food, lots of drinks. Probably too many.’

‘Did that go okay too?’ Isabella asked, pushing him a cup of coffee.

Fox considered for a moment. He cleared his throat. ‘It went surprisingly well .’ He stirred sugar into his coffee, not making eye contact. ‘Unexpectedly so.’

With a quick glance out the kitchen window at the boys racing in the garden, he tapped his teaspoon on the side of his mug three times, as though to make an announcement. Etienne raised an eyebrow, Isabella leaned in.

‘I had a one-night stand,’ Fox whispered across the table. Etienne choked on his coffee, and Fox reached over to slap him on the back. ‘I know, mate. I’m as shocked as you are about it.’

He looked it too. His face was hungover and tired and happy and. . . worried?

‘Well, we all knew the day would come.’

‘Makes me feel strange, though, you know? Like the end of an era.’ He glanced at the photograph on the corkboard of Meg.

‘Meg would want you to live your life, Fox,’ Etienne said quietly. Fox shrugged but didn’t look convinced.

‘Will you bump into the woman again then? Was she part of the investment team?’

‘No.’ He laughed. ‘She was a demonstrator. They bring in gamers to show the investors how they work. She was playing my game.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘Pretty good she was at it, too.’ Fox sipped his coffee and added a fourth sugar.

Etienne laughed. He’d never considered game playing skills as high on his list of traits he found attractive. Fox obviously rated it highly.

‘What was she like?’ Isabella asked, elbows on the table, hands under her chin. Etienne laughed again– a typical girl question. It was a one-night stand, what more did Isabella need to know? But Fox answered.

‘Funny. Curvy. Long red hair. And a tongue piercing.’

Isabella smiled, as though enjoying the attention to detail. ‘So, you liked her then?’

Fox paused, as though coming to a realisation.

‘Yeah. She made me laugh.’

Isabella straightened up now, excited.

‘So will you see her again?’ she asked. ‘Have you got her number?’

Fox scratched his head, screwed up his face and then shook his head.

‘Truth be told, I panicked this morning when I woke up. I left her sleeping in my hotel room, and caught the early train back to Honeybridge.’

‘But it was fun while it lasted,’ Etienne encouraged, and Fox agreed.

‘It was the best “fun” I’ve had in years.’ He made quote marks around his words, laughing at himself.

Isabella squirmed in her seat and Etienne glanced at her. Surely she couldn’t be offended by sex talk? Not with the package she’d put on the table for him? She seemed to know exactly what she wanted, and how to get it.

Her chair screeched on the floor as she stood up.

Etienne saw that she was deathly pale. Her stomach made a noise that was audible on his side of the table.

Fox looked horrified as she groaned and immediately slapped her hand over her mouth.

She sprinted to the downstairs toilet and was the first person in the house in the last twenty-four hours to make it in time.

That night:

Etienne : Are you feeling any better?

Isabella : I feel like death.

Etienne : I feel guilty.

Isabella : So you should.

Etienne : If it makes you feel better, I’m throwing up too.

Isabella : Strangely, that does give me some comfort.

Etienne : Feel better soon.

Isabella : You too.