Page 9 of Embracing Us

Chapter four

Linda

“Two weeks,” Max says, “that’s all we have to survive before we return to blue skies and warm sand.” I smile softly at him. He’s just finished booking flights to Spain for the three of us. Since Jackson was born, his Aunt Susan has been calling every week for updates and asking when we are coming to visit. We’ve finally given in. We’re going and staying for four weeks during Max’s summer holidays from school.

“It will be a bit different from your previous visits,” I say with a smirk.

“This is going to be the best visit ever. Not only will I have the most beautiful woman on my arm, I’ll have my favourite person with me too,” he replies, glancing at his son who is currently lying naked on his playmat in the middle of the living room.

“Are you going to put his nappy on? I don’t want to be washing that mat again, it only came out the dryer an hour ago.” Max kneels beside Jackson and pulls a fresh nappy from the changing bag. He gently lifts his backside before slipping it under him then fastening it securely. “You’re getting better at that,” I tell him.

“I couldn’t have been much worse, could I?” he says, then sticks his tongue out at me. “I’ll never get over the incident in the supermarket.” A snort erupts from me as I remember that day. “Don’t laugh, I’m permanently fucking scarred for life. Who knew babies could be undercover pranksters.”

“Everyone. That’s part of their job description,” I say with a smile.

*

Last week, we’d braved a Saturday morning at the supermarket. I knew it was a mistake as soon as we’d left the house. The traffic had slowed to a crawl only five minutes from home. It’d taken an hour to complete a fifteen-minute journey. When we arrived, Jackson was sound asleep, and his father was like a bear with a sore head.

“Just lift the car seat out,” I told Max. “Save waking him up.”

“No, no,” he argued. “I prefer him in his full pram. It’s more comfortable for him.” I looked from our soundly sleeping son to his pedantic father and shrugged.

“On your head be it,” I muttered under my breath.

“What does that mean?” he snapped with a glare in my direction.

“If you lift him out of that car seat he’ll wake up. And,” I paused for effect, raising my eyebrows, “he’ll not be happy about it.”

“He’ll be fine,” he said, waving away my concerns.

I walked off in the direction of the shop, leaving him to deal with the battle that was about to ensue. The click of my heels on the tarmac was quickly drowned out by the shrieks of my extremely pissed-off son. As I glanced over my shoulder, I saw Max placing the explosive baby into his pram, shoogling it with one hand whilst attempting to pick up all the required belongings with the other. He caught up with me as Jackson levelled up his screams of displeasure.

“Don’t fucking say anything,” he said.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Keeping my defiant face in a bland expression had been difficult, but I managed it – much to my surprise.

Our shopping trip continued to be eventful for the whole forty minutes we were there. Jackson never went back to sleep and continued to make his father acutely aware at various points that he didn’t appreciate being woken up. Then there was a poonami incident in aisle five whilst we were picking our cereal choices for the week.

“Linda,” Max spluttered, “look.” His eyes popped from their sockets as he watched his son’s excrement seeping from the edges of the nappy he’d so carefully put on him. “Shit.”

“Literally,” I responded, struggling once again to keep my face straight. I’d watched as he’d stormed off in the direction of the bathrooms, pushing his foul-smelling offspring. I was glad it was his turn to change him.

*

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you,” Max says, interrupting the comedy sketch running through my head. “Bitch,” he mutters under his breath. “I’ll spank you later for relishing in my pain.” My cheeks heat; spanking is something new we’ve been trying. It is surprisingly satisfying to be bent over and smacked with a piece of leather. “I have a new favourite view,” he says as a sexy smile plays on his lips.

“And what would that be?” I purr.

“You, in that tiny red thong of yours, over my knee like you were last night.” My breathing hitches as he stands and walks towards me, cupping my cheek with his palm. “Your ass getting pinker with each slap was the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” I close my eyes and he kisses me softly. “I’m definitely adding spanking to my list of hobbies.”

“Jeez, you’re a man possessed,” I mumble into his lips.

“Completely,” he agrees, “and as much as I’d like to drag you upstairs now, we have responsibilities and somewhere to be.” I groan, loudly. “It’ll be fine, Beautiful. He’s just a man. He can’t hurt us.”

“No, but he can be an absolute ass-wipe,” I retort, and he laughs.

“It’ll be fine,” he repeats, then kisses me again. “Come on, let’s get ready. We need to leave in ten minutes.”

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