Page 18 of Forever, Maybe

Chapter thirteen

“Do you want me to carry you over the threshold?” Daniel asked, glancing at Nell.

They stood outside the door of their new home, a second-floor tenement flat in Glasgow’s south side.

The stairwell walls were adorned with Art Nouveau green-and-white tiles—an old-world charm that had sealed the deal for Nell, despite Daniel’s protests in favour of a modern, more spacious flat in the Gorbals.

Above the door knocker, a brass plaque read Mrs J Reid.

Daniel had already decided it would be gone by tomorrow.

First thing in the morning, he’d head to the Timpson’s on Victoria Road to order a shiny new one, inscribed with Mr and Mrs Murray in elegant, swirling script.

The thought still gave him a buzz. Mrs Murray. Nell Murray. His wife.

He glanced at her again and felt the familiar pinch of disbelief.

How had he managed this? How had he —gangly, awkward Daniel—landed her ?

Nell was all tiny, kinetic energy, her beauty understated but arresting.

Her dark blonde hair framed her face in soft waves, and today’s outfit—green leggings, an oversized jumper to match and silver pumps—made her look even younger than her twenty-two years.

She grinned mischievously. “All right, then. But if you put your back out carrying me, don’t expect any sympathy.”

“You’re not too heavy, Nell.” To prove his point, he scooped her up effortlessly, one arm under her back, the other beneath her legs, while she shrieked and clung to his neck, laughing. “See? Who’s got the keys? Oh. I do. They’re in my front pocket.”

Her free hand fumbled at his jeans, sliding into the pocket and lingered longer than necessary, her fingers brushing against him in a way that made his pulse jump.

Then she gave him a cheeky squeeze, her voice dropping into a seductive lilt.

“Do you promise you’ll fuck me in every room in this flat as soon as we’re inside? ”

His body responded instantly. “Christ, Nell,” he muttered, his voice rougher now.

Her laughter bubbled up again, but this time it was layered with anticipation. “Better hurry up, then, Mr Murray.”

He and Nell had spent the first few months of their marriage living with his parents.

If it had been up to him, they’d still be there.

His mum and dad’s semi on Paisley Road West was far more comfortable than this draughty tenement flat, and the rent—if you could even call it that—barely covered utilities.

Another year there, and they could have saved enough for a proper deposit instead of throwing money away on rent.

But Nell had put her foot down. She was fed up sneaking around like a teenager every time they wanted to have sex.

“It’s ridiculous,” she’d fumed one evening after Daniel’s youngest brother barged into their room unannounced.

“I’m not spending the rest of my life waiting for your family to vacate the house just so we can have a shag. ”

She’d drawn the line firmly. No marital relations if his mum, dad or any of his siblings were within earshot.

This hard boundary had forced them to get creative.

Linn Park had become their go-to escape—a green haven with just enough secluded spots.

Though, as they’d quickly learned, it was also a popular rendezvous for Glasgow’s gay community, leading to more than a few awkward encounters.

Now, finally, they had a place of their own. Five whole rooms—living room, kitchen, bathroom and two bedrooms—all free of interruptions.

“Nae bother, Mrs Murray,” Daniel teased as they crossed the threshold. “And why stop at the rooms? How about the hallway? If you get down on your hands and knees, and I—”

“Hello there.”

As they turned toward the source of the greeting, Daniel swung Nell around.

At the top of the stairs stood a man, one hand gripping the banister.

He looked a bit older than them, his red face glistening with sweat beneath clumps of thick auburn hair.

Dressed head-to-toe in big-brand sports gear, he had the look of someone fresh from the gym or maybe a run, though the breadth of his chest and the bulk of his neck suggested he spent more time bench pressing than jogging.

Nell’s shoulders shook as she tried—and failed—to stifle her giggles.

The man smirked, his eyes shamelessly trailing over her.

Daniel could imagine the mental image forming: Nell, half-naked, on her hands and knees, her back arched, glancing coyly over her shoulder with a sly wink.

The thought that this guy was picturing it—and probably envied him—only made Daniel’s pulse quicken.

They really needed to get inside that flat. Now.

“Hi,” Daniel said, deciding against attempting a handshake while Nell was still in his arms. “I’m Daniel, and this is my wife,” extra emphasis on the ‘my’ “Nell. We’re moving in here.”

The man’s eyebrows shot up as his mouth rounded in an exaggerated o . “Your wife? Jesus. She’s a child bride.”

“I am not!” Nell exclaimed. “I’m twenty-two, well over the legal adult age, thank you very much. And if I’d wanted to, I could’ve got married six years ago in Scotland!”

The man slapped a hand dramatically to his chest, his eyes widening. “Beg pardon, dear lady. My mistake!”

Nell blinked in bemusement. Before either of them could respond, he sauntered over, stopping in front of Nell to extend his hand.

She shook it hesitantly, but he held onto it far longer than politeness required, his gaze fixed on her face like a moth to a flame.

Then, with an exaggerated flourish, he raised her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles.

“Delighted to meet you both,” he said, straightening up and flashing a grin. “Jamie Curtice. I’m looking after the flat upstairs for a mate of mine. Pop up anytime if you run out of sugar… or coffee.” He shot a wink at Nell.

“Thanks,” Daniel said, ninety-nine per cent sure that invitation didn’t include him.

The weight of Nell—slight though she was—pulled at his back, shoulders and hamstrings, but he’d be damned if he put her down in front of this guy. Pride, stubbornness and the overwhelming desire to get inside their flat combined into a singular focus: endure. Just a little longer.

Jamie finally dropped Nell’s hand. “Well, I’d best let you crack on. You must have loads to do,” he said, dragging out the word with a smirk that left little doubt he was still picturing her in that compromising position.

“Aye,” Daniel replied shortly, his voice clipped. Jamie waved casually and jogged up the stairs, his footsteps echoing. Nell, keys in hand, swung the door open, and Daniel carried her into the flat before letting her tumble to the floor with a groan of relief.

“What a creep,” he muttered, pressing a hand to the small of his back.

Nell’s giggle bubbled up again. “Bit me Tarzan, you Jane there, weren’t you?”

He ignored her, taking in the flat for the first time since their whirlwind viewing. Southside flats were snapped up faster than you could say “deposit,” so their inspection had been more of a frantic dash than a proper evaluation. Now, standing in the hallway, Daniel’s initial enthusiasm wavered.

The place was… smaller than he remembered.

The psychedelic wallpaper in the living room was enough to induce nausea.

A faint, musty smell lingered in the air, the kind of scent he associated with charity shops full of second-hand furniture and clothes that never quite lost their past lives.

And the hallway—lined with a cheap, threadbare grey carpet—looked like it would guarantee carpet burn if they followed through on his earlier suggestion.

Ah, well. He’d get onto the agency in the morning and ask if the current owner would sanction some redecorating. And in the meantime, there were far more pressing matters to consider…

He pointed to the ceiling. “Bet Jamie Curtice’s upstairs right now, ear pressed to the floor, trying to hear what we’re up to.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Nell said, her fingers already unzipping his jeans and sliding them down his hips.

Freed from its denim confines, his cock sprang to attention.

She grinned, her tongue darting out to wet her top lip as her hand closed around him.

“Better give him something worth listening to then, eh?”

Daniel’s pulse surged as she stroked him to full hardness, her touch deliberate and teasing. His gaze flicked upwards. From above, the faint creak of floorboards filtered down.

“That’s him,” he whispered. “He’s moving around, trying to find the best spot to crouch down for a proper listen.”

“And a wank?”

“Oh, definitely.” Daniel raised his voice, aiming it squarely at the ceiling. “Go on then. Beg for it. ”

Nell snorted with laughter but didn’t stop her movements. Above them, the creaking paused. For a moment, the flat was filled with nothing but the sound of their heavy breathing.

The corners of Nell’s mouth curved into an amused smile. Early on, Daniel had discovered—thanks to a recommendation from The Joy of Sex —just how much dirty talk worked as an instant ignition switch for her. He wasn’t one to waste an advantage.

She stepped back, pulling her oversized sweater over her head. Underneath, she wore a black lace bra adorned with a tiny red bow at the centre. Her hands moved behind her back, fingers reaching for the clasp.

“Keep it on,” Daniel said, his voice roughened with anticipation.

Nell’s grin widened. She tilted her head slightly, glancing up at the ceiling.

“This is exactly what you’re going to do,” she announced, loud enough for the floorboards above to hear.

“I’m going to lie on my back, and you’re going to lick me out.

Then, just as I’m about to come, you’re going to ram into me. Hard. As. You. Like.”

Silence fell from above—no footsteps, no creaking floorboards. Jamie had either fled or was glued in place.

Nell slipped off her shoes, and Daniel’s breath hitched, his chest rising and falling faster now. He hadn’t felt this uninhibited in months. Living with his family these past few months had been a dry spell of epic proportions, filled with more awkward silences than orgasms.

Later, as Daniel pulled out of a warm, trembling, and utterly sated Nell—her climax having been loud, hard and deliciously prolonged—he felt a brief flush of triumph. Then panic hit.

“Nell,” he croaked, staring down at himself. “The condom’s come off.”

“What?” Her head snapped up, her eyes instantly widening in horror.

She slid out from beneath him, her gaze dropping to the undeniable evidence. The limp latex clung to him no longer. They gawped at each other for a heartbeat before Nell reached between her legs, her fingers fishing with delicate determination.

When she drew the condom out, the tip was unmistakably swollen, its contents shimmering in damning confirmation.

“We’ll be fine,” Daniel said quickly, though his voice wavered. He wasn’t entirely sure whether all of it was in there or if some had escaped.

“D’you think?” Nell’s tone sharpened. “I don’t want a child. Remember? Not right now. Not ever. ”

Daniel swallowed hard, his earlier euphoria evaporating. They stared at the condom like it was a live grenade, the weight of her words hanging heavy in the air.

None of this was news. When he’d mentioned kids again two months after he’d proposed, she shook her head. “Nope, not maternal. At all. Sorry, is that an issue? Because if it is…”

The ‘if it is’ sounded like a threat, so he’d shaken his head vigorously enough for her to lean forward and kiss him. And it hadn’t seemed problematic at the time. Adulthood beckoned, with two people free to do whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted.

“Honest, it’ll be fine.” He stood up and reached for his discarded jeans, wondering if he should mention the morning-after pill to be on the safe side.

“I s’pose so,” she rubbed her tummy. Thin to the point of concave. “I’m probably not that fertile anyway.”

There. No need to mention the morning-after pill. Not yet. If, against all odds, a big ‘if’, unlikely to happen and all that, Nell did end up pregnant, he’d cross that bridge then.

Talk her round. The two of them were only young.

Him, a father! The thought filled him with an unexpected surge of excitement.

He’d be a far, far better dad than his own had ever been.

No child of his would ever have to hide under a kitchen table, their mother’s trembling hand pressed over their mouth to stifle their cries as the landlord’s shadow loomed in the window.

The memory tugged at him for a moment, sharp-edged and raw, before he forced it back. His lips twitched, a smile playing at the corners. He turned his face away, pretending to adjust his jeans, hiding the faint flicker of hope.