Masters And Lovers 1-4 novel Chapter 17

James

Life is good. And I want to share it.

Sitting around the breakfast table, I say, “I think we should have a party. We have a lot to celebrate and it would give Mitch here the chance to meet Charlotte's friends. And to make some of her own.”

Michael beams. “That’s a great idea, eh, Mitch?”

Her face almost healed from the bruising, the worry and stress fading from her features, Mitch is turning into an older, softer version of her daughter. “I’d love that.”

“So, who do we invite?”

“Richard and Beth of course,” says Michael. “I think that, at the least, Mitch should meet her cousin.” Charlotte nods agreement. Mitch smiles and drops her eyes.

“Of course. How about Chad and Sebastian?” I suggest.

Michael purses his lips but Charlotte says, “I’d like that. And Benny too. And Tom and Katy.”

“Sounds good. I think Ross and Francis should be there too. And Kirstie.”

Michael cocks a brow. “Ryan?”

I rub my nose. “Could be problematic, but I’ll invite him. It would be good to see him and Kirstie make up again.”

Michael props his chin on his fist. “And… um, how about Ben?”

“You really think that’s a good idea?”

He grimaces. “Probably not, no.”

*****

“Kirstie, we’re having a party next week. Charlotte would love you to join us if you’d like to come.”

“I’m not really in a party mood at the moment. I don’t think I’d be great company.”

“All the more reason for you to be there. You can’t spend forever moping at home.”

*****

“Ryan, We’re celebrating. Just a small group of friends. I wondered if you would like to join us next week, for the party?”

He scowls. “I'm your friend then am I, Mr Alexanders?”

“I'd prefer to think so… Kirstie will be there.”

The scowl deepens. “I think I can make my own arrangements regarding Kirstie. Thank you for the invitation, but I have a prior engagement.”

“I've not said when we’re holding the party.”

Not meeting my eye, gathering files and papers into his briefcase, he repeats, “I have a prior engagement.”

Stiff-necked bastard…

*****

Michael

Out in the back garden, I stand, thumbs hooked in pockets, surveying the mess of outbuildings and sheds. The stable-block is the focus of my interest. My intention had been that it become my own office, but given our changed circumstances, I’m having other ideas.

Charlotte arrives, wearing that wide-eyed look she has that turns my knees to water and my cock to granite. “What are you doing?”

“Just considering the options.”

She follows my gaze for a moment then, her arms sliding up and around my neck, she whispers, “Thank you.”

My own arms slipping around her, I rest my hands on her hips. “You’re welcome.” Just holding her close, I inhale her scent. “Are you happy, Charlotte? This is what you wanted?”

“Yes, this is what I wanted. Everything I wanted. And I couldn’t have done it without you.”

I chuckle. “I think you will find that in fact, you couldn’t have done it without James.”

Her eyes drop, then rise again, cheeks dimpling. “That’s true of course. But you helped.” She tips up her face, her lips brushing mine. “Michael…"

“Mmm?” I curl arms around her waist.

“I want to make love with you.”

I slide hands down, palming her ass. “Sounds good… Um…” I swing, scanning the area. “… Where's your mother?”

“She said she was going for a walk. She took my walking boots. Said she'd be awhile. I think she was hinting at giving us some privacy.”

“Good of her… Y’know, she should have some privacy of her own.”

Charlotte pulls back, brow wrinkling, “You don't mind her being here, do you? You did say...”

“No. No, I don't mind. She can stay for as long as she needs to or wants to. No, I was thinking that everyone needs their own space.” I gesture out and over the garden, house, sheds and then to the stable. “It's not as though we're short of it.”

Her eyes go all wide again. “You're such a wonderful man. I'm so lucky you married me.”

“You're the lucky one?” I scratch my scalp. “Can't say I'd thought of it that way. About that privacy…” I raise eyes upwards, towards the bedroom. “Shall we…”

I step away, wriggling fingers to her. With a smile like the climb of a rainbow, she slips her hand into mine. Leading her back into the house, I shed my boots at the door then head upstairs with my lovely, willing wife.

In the bedroom, she stands before me. Her clothes are nothing special: jeans, tee-shirt, trainers; her hair tied back in a ponytail. But my Charlotte needs nothing special.