Page 4 of Eager Housewife
“It’s fine?—”
That word again. My hand has darted out and caught her wrist before I can stop it and I drag her out to where the SUV is parked.
“Get in.” Being in an enclosed space with this girl I want in every way is a terrible idea. Really, really bad. But I cannae leave her at the airport.
She obeys and her obedience eases the tightness in my chest. A bit. “Where are you going to work? You said you had a plan?”
“I don’t know.” She’s curled in on herself in the passenger seat beside me as I drive us out and into the London traffic.
I sigh. “When you rejected my offer to pay for you to go travelling with Ainsley you said you had a job.”
I should have insisted they travel together. Then Blythe would be safely on a plane right now, with no worries, and not next to me, like temptation incarnate.
“I didn’t. I said I wouldpreferto have a job. I put a deposit on a house share, but they’ve all ghosted me.”
“They’vewhat?” I accelerate as we join the motorway, but I can barely see the road for the rage clouding down over me.
“They kicked me out of the group chat, and when I went to the house we were renting together, there were students living there.”
“Fuck!” My knuckles are white where I’m gripping the steering wheel. But noticing that only makes me remember what I’ve done for people I love. I’m going to quietly punish whoever fleeced Blythe. Maybe a few punches as well, for good measure. My scars could do with a refresh.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers meekly.
“Not you, not you. Them,” I hasten to reassure her. “But I’ll sort you out. You can stay at a hotel until you get yourself settled.” The words stick in my throat like a sharp chicken bone. I want her withme.
“You don’t have to?—”
“I do.”
“Thank you.” Her voice is so soft and high, and the tremble in it causes my heart to resonate painfully.
There’s a long, awkward silence during which I think about things I could say.
I didn’t mean to describe you in that advert, it just happened because I’m obsessed with you. I’ll buy you a home in London. Don’t house share again, and don’t live outside my London territory. I’ll find you a job. If it weren’t for my daughter, I’d take you up in a split-second on accepting my marriage-of-convenience proposal. You’d have your knickers ripped off and my cock in you before you could blink.
“I’m too old for you.” I didn’t realise I was going to say that, but it’s true. “You should be with someone your own age.” The words grate over my tongue.
“I don’t like boys my age.”
“You don’t want… Marriage.” I refuse to glance across at her and settle for that euphemism, when we both know I mean, “to be the sex toy of a man twice your age”. She’d be my secretly-cherished wife though. Not convenient, but adored.
“I do.” She sounds so earnest, it breaks my heart. “I’m no good at studying or most things, but…”
Jealousy grips me at the thought of her unspoken words. Not excellent at studying, but great at sex. Don’t get me wrong, I’m certain she’s amazing in bed, but there’s so much more to her.
This time I can’t hold back. I flick my gaze to the side and she’s biting her lip, staring ahead at the windscreen.
“I’ve always wanted a home and children of my own.” Her tone is wistful. “It would be really fun to have a big, loving family. So different to…” There’s longing in the tilt of her head.
She doesn’t need to add that. I remember. During that evening at Christmas, she told me about her childhood in the care system, flipped between foster homes until she aged-out at eighteen and was on her own.
“Really?” I ask. “You truly want to have a family so soon? No adventures first?”
“Babies are all the excitement I need,” she says with a firmness that belies her twenty-one years.
A spark of potential flares. If she wants a family, and I want her, would this be so wrong? The age gap between us is filthy, yes. But if I could genuinely provide Blythe with the life she’d like…
The job advert was written on a whim. I didn’t really intend to post it. But the more I imagine the scene, the more I want more kids. Watching my daughter pack up to spread her wings and become an adult made me realise I missed the vibrancy of having children in my house. I miss the noise and mess and chaos. I used to curse Ainsley, especially when she threw tantrums or asked where her mother was. Because I couldn’t tell her that her mother dumped a wee fiery-haired three-year-old lassie on my doorstep and hasn’t been seen since.