Page 143 of The Alternate Captain
“Will he, John? Because I’m not sure.”
Johnny says nothing. Instead, he reaches for my cheek and pulls my face towards him, dropping his lips onto mine.
“If he doesn’t, then I’ll do all I can to convince him we’re a good idea.”
My heart dances through my chest, because that’s been another thing on my mind—the unrequited ‘L’ word I said.
He hasn’t even mentioned it, and since I know it’s probably unlikely that he’s there yet, I don’t mention it either.
“I think it should be me,” I say. “I should be the one to tell him.”
Johnny sucks in a breath. “I actually don’t agree. I think it needs to come from me.”
“But he’ll be furious with me—for keeping this to myself.”
“Yeah, and he’ll be furious with me, but at least I can hold my own.”
“He wouldn’t attack me, though,” I say.
My thought process follows the rationale that Johnny will have broken legs by the end of the interaction, whereas I’ll probably end up in tears—which is fixable.
“It’ll be fine, babe. Leave your brother to me.”
I roll over and snuggle into the pillow, hoping that Johnny is right. Because what’s the alternative?
“Kelly?”
“Yeah?”
“I should probably tell you something,” Johnny says.
I flip onto my other side and gaze towards him in the darkness. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah. But I just wanted you to know I told Sarah I wasn’t going to give her any money.”
I extend my arm, searching for his hand in the dark.
Before we were due to board our flight, Sarah texted him and asked if he’d made a decision. She gave him an ultimatum: either he pay up, or she’d go to the local media about him—alluding that he’s a liar and has fathered a child he wants nothing to do with.
Johnny had laughed out loud when he read the message, but I could tell it was playing on his mind. Instead of the chirpy Johnny I’d become accustomed to, he was back to his old ways of short answers and sharp attitude.
But I let him be. I gave him time to think and to stew over it. And rather than try to influence his decision, I held back, knowing that he’d do what was right for him—and I’d support him no matter what. Even if I didn’t agree with his decision. Besides, he knew what I thought. I didn’t need to remind him.
“And there’s a good chance my dad will show up and kick up a fuss. I’ve told him I want nothing more to do with him, either.” Johnny rolls onto his back. “Out with the crap, Kelly. Out with the crap.”
“So that’s it then?” I ask, tucking myself into the crease of his deltoid.
“Yep. Both Vicky and I. Cutting the rope. He can go fuck himself for all I care.”
“Would you let mepeg you?” Kelly giggles, her cheeks red from the wine she’s been drinking. I cooked for us, and Kelly made dessert. And ever since we finished cleaning up, we’ve been drinking.
I almost spit my drink out for the second time today. “What?”
“Would you let me peg you?” she says again.
For some reason, we thought it would be a good idea to put some porn on the big TV and watch it together after Christmas lunch. And I’ve got my notebook in hand, making some high-level notes about dirty talk—mainly video references so anyone flicking through it on the off-chance that I leave it unattended, wouldn’t work it out.
Kelly reaches for my phone and taps something onto the screen, changing the video on the TV.
