I finish washing myself before stepping out of the bath. There are butterflies in my tummy. Nervous butterflies and excited butterflies. Fuck it, let's give this a try!
Forty-five minutes later I crawl under my duvet. That's how long I managed to draw my beauty regime out, and when I say beauty regime, I mean I put on face cream, brushed my teeth, and gave Smutty some belly rubs. Anything to not have to deal with reality and check the reply Ben sent me. What if he turned from a nice guy into a creep? I mean, the internet is full of weirdos and perverts, right?
My eyes zoom in on my phone on my nightstand. I grab it and then immediately put it back again. Oh, for fuck’s sake. It's not like he’ll jump out of it. I take a deep breath and swipe the screen.
Ben
Well, let me know if you have any other questions.
Where to start? I have so many questions! But can I really send them through to a stranger? In the end, I decide to keep the door open for more.
Me
Sorry, I had to get out of the bath. It's quite late, but I would love to continue our conversation another day?
Could I sound any more boring?
Ben
Any time!
5
Believer
Ben
My muscles are still burning from my Saturday morning run. I pushed myself a lot harder than I usually would, but when my mind is racing, my body needs to move.
Yesterday evening was tense, especially when Amelia left me hanging for nearly an hour after my Good Girl comment. I thought I’d blown it. When she finally got back in touch I was close to losing my mind.
The washing machine beeps happily at me after I press the start button. I have a housekeeper Monday to Friday who does my washing and cleans my house, but if I keep my sweaty running clothes for the whole weekend to be washed on Monday they'll stink to high heaven and I really can't do that to Gustavo.
My fingers run through my hair which is still damp from the shower as I make my way back to the smoothie I have chilling in the fridge. The small utility room on the ground floor is just off the kitchen. There's also a decent-sized living room with an adjacent office that pulls double duty as my personal library. Upstairs there are three bedrooms. Do I actually need that many? Not really. But I loved the garden when I first viewed the house. And it's right next door to my sister's place. That and the amazing view of the fields surrounding the village sold me on it. Sure, with the success our company has had, I could easily afford something even bigger. But who wants all those empty rooms?
I swallow the last of the green sludge that is sold as a “healthy smoothie” when someone rings the doorbell over and over. I can't stop a grin from forming on my lips. My favourite little munchkin is here. I place my glass in the sink and head to the front door.
"Do I know you?" I ask as seriously as I can muster.
"Uncle Ben, it's me, silly," a cheeky five-year-old grins at me. His front top two teeth are missing and his little tongue pokes through the gap.
"And who are you?" I ask again and bend down like I’m inspecting him closely.
"Robbie," he sighs exasperated.
"Oh, Robbie. I think I have a nephew called Robbie," I grin making him chuckle.
"Yup, me."
"That’s yes, not yup," my sister Fiona, who has been watching us, corrects him.
"Yes, me," Robbie repeats pointing his little fingers at himself.
"Well, if you are really my nephew I think you should give me a hug!" I haven't finished the sentence when the little squirt jumps into my arms. He has the same blond hair and green eyes as Fi. She and I couldn't be more different. Fi is short, petite and fair. Aside from towering over her, I have the broody dark look that women usually flock to like moths to a flame. But we are as similar in character as we are different in looks. We are both driven people who know what we want. In her case, that was being the best mum anyone could imagine. Her older kids, Sam and Claire, are both at university, and then five years ago Robbie joined the family as a surprise. Fi struggled at the beginning, having mentally prepared herself for an empty nest with her teenagers gone. But luckily, she has a husband who couldn't have been more supportive. Once Robbie was born everyone doted on him. And the little munchkin knows it. He has us all in his tiny palm.
"How are you, Robster?" I ask him, placing a kiss on my sister’s cheek. Robbie slides his hand in mine as we walk into the kitchen. Saturdays he and Fi usually come over for lunch whilst my brother-in-law plays football for the village team. Robbie hates football, something nobody in the family understands. We are an Aston Villa family, my dad made sure of that. We all love football. Except for the little squirt.
"I'm hungry," Robbie grins at me. Of course he is. He has the energy of ten kids and runs around all day long. But he also has the appetite of ten of these little monsters.
"Well, it's a good thing that I have lunch almost ready then," I chuckle. The pasta sauce has been bubbling away in the slow cooker whilst I was out for my run.
"And dessert?"
"And dessert. But only if you eat all of your spaghetti." I reply. I’ve been told off by my sister more than once for giving him dessert too easily and now I always make sure he gets his proper food first. He hates vegetables, so the whole family has mastered sneaking them into food he will eat. Spaghetti Bolognese is his favourite and the perfect decoy. He has yet to find out. Did I mention that he rules with an iron fist?
"Okay," Robbie agrees, probably because it is spaghetti. "Can I play outside?" I built a large slide and climbing frame in my garden for him and he loves it.
"But only until lunch. It’s cold today," Fi says but before she finishes the sentence he’s already sprinting to the backdoor.
"Tea?" I hold up the kettle.
"Oh, that would be amazing," Fi sighs as she slides onto the little stool next to the breakfast bar.
“Tough week?” I ask with a frown. Fi sometimes does too much and doesn’t allow herself a break.
“Not more than usual,” she waves me off. That’s her signal to me to let it go. She doesn’t want to talk about it.
"Guess what?" I change the topic. I have to tell someone about Amelia. The only people that know what I went through back then are my family and Coop.
