Page 104 of Untether

He’s an angel. Sally Clarke is a food writer who runs a catering business and wonderful deli in Kensington. She’s a lifesaver when you’re cash rich and time poor. It’s pathetic how quickly I yield.

Yes and perfect thank you x

Poor Cal. Hopefully, he’s not interested in me for my homemaking skills.

68

CAL

Aida still has a security guard at her door, but there are no paps when I show up. Looks like he’s scared them all off.

My visit this time is a little different. No mask or rope or other kinky fuckery, just a Sally Clarke carrier bag full of comfort food and a couple of VR headsets that were a spontaneous idea and may just hold the key to this evening’s success for all concerned.

She answers the door looking pale and tired and gorgeous, and the hallway is deserted enough for me to drop my things on the floor and enfold her in a huge bear hug. She looks like she could use one and, sure enough, she clings to me hard.

‘How are you feeling?’ I murmur, my lips moving against her glossy hair. I could happily stand with her like this all night.

‘Shitty, but I’ll live,’ she says, her arms wrapping around my back. She smells divine. ‘Sorry I won’t be the life and soul of the party.’

‘Actually, you’re not invited to the pre-dinner party.’

‘No?’ She pulls away a little so she can look up at me, and I shoot her a grin.

‘Nope. As soon as I’ve stuck the food in the oven, you are going to run yourself a bath and go have a good soak while I bond with the boys. I have just the thing.’

She eyes me suspiciously. ‘Are you my fairy godmother?’

‘Something like that. I definitely have the legs for a tutu. Honestly. Trust me. I’ve got this.’

I’m nowhere on the parenting skills scale, but I do know how to have fun with kids—mainly because I still am one, most of the time. I also have a sound understanding of the value of well-timed bribes where kids are concerned.

I pick up the bags and follow her down the hall, taking a quick break from ogling her arse to check out my reflection in the mirror.Looking good as usual, mate.

If Aida had daughters, I’d be bricking it, but I’m not nervous about meeting her sons. What can I say? Boys are pretty basic, and I already know they like cricket. We’ll be fine.

These kids are funny.As I predicted, they go fucking mental when I show them I’ve brought two Oculus Quest headsets with me.

‘How come you have two?’ Aida asks, watching in confusion as Pip and Kit tear into them. We’re in the basement, which is a very nice den area and the perfect space for playing VR games. There are no stairs they can accidentally fall down while they’re exploring the jungle or the forest.

‘Rafe and I used to play a lot at my place before Belle came along and ruined everything,’ I mutter. ‘One of them’s technically his.’

‘I see,’ she says with a knowing smirk that makes me feel about twelve years old. I can tell she’s visualising me and Rafe going for it amidst the sophisticated minimalism of my flat, and I suspect whatever she’s imagining, the reality was even dorkier.

Not that there’s any way I’m exposing Aida’s kids to Blades of Sorcery or Population One anytime soon. We’ll be sticking firmly with Gorilla Tag this evening. I’m confident they’ll love it. I mean, kids are basically chimps, right?

‘Hang on a sec, mate,’ I tell Pip. He’s got his headset on, but it’s way too big for his little head. ‘I need to tighten this thing up. Aida, go and have a bath. Honestly. I’ve got this.’

‘Really?’ she asks in a tone that begs me to be sincere.

‘Yep.’ I jerk my head towards the door for good measure. ‘Go.’

‘Okay. Thanks.’ She looks like she wants to kiss me, but a glance at her boys has her heading for the door instead. ‘You don’t need to tell me twice.’

I allow my gaze to linger on her retreating figure before turning back to the boys. ‘Right. Now we’ve got rid of your mum, we can really have some fun. Ready for Gorilla Tag?’

‘I am!’ the little one, Kit, shouts. After only five minutes, I can tell he’s basically how I was as a kid. Fearless enthusiasm. Act first, think later. Unlike his brother, who seems more circumspect. He’s an observer of the world, I suspect. A thinker.

Not unlike his mother.

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