The Affectionate Player - Part2

Chapter 15

My eyes search his for answers as he gazes upon me. Have I heard him properly?

"Are you...? I mean... What are you asking?" A snow-white smile spreads wide across his handsome face, his ocean blue eyes gleaming with hope. Reaching up I place a hand on his cheek and turning he kisses my palm.

"I want to be with you, Gracie, and I'm pretty sure you feel the same way." Mirroring his smile, I sigh.

"You know I do."

"Then I'd like to make our relationship more permanent," he says looking very pleased with himself. Instantly my mouth dries as I get the measure of what he's suggesting and likely fearing my refusal he hastily continues.

"I know you said last year that you aren't expecting a white knight in shining armour to sweep you off your feet, but if you'll have me I'd like to at least try."

"You would?" Without taking his eyes from mine he nods.

"That's so sweet, Max, but all I need is you and our babies safe and well. That's what matters to me."

"I know that. Have you any idea of the comfort it gives me knowing that you love me for being me and not for my bank balance or the next red carpet event. For a while, even with Mel, I'd lost faith in love and meaningful relationships which is why I didn't want to get involved with anyone. But then I met you. Twice."

"Fate," I whisper and he nods, grinning.

"Sometimes, Gracie, the depth of what I feel overwhelms me. I could be listening to you reading Monty a story or watching you dress Holly while you sing her a song, and in an instant my heart is racing with hopes and dreams." Lowering his head he places a tender kiss on the tip of my nose.

"I feel that way too, Max."

"You're all I need, Gracie. You and the kids. Think about it for a while. That's all I ask."

"I will. You know a piece of paper won't make how I feel about you any more important. You already mean everything to me," I say stifling a yawn.

"That's what I like to hear, beautiful." Easing from me he finds the towel and throws it over his shoulder. "Why don't you get some rest? I'll be back in half an hour but first I'll book the flights before I turn in."

I watch as he pulls on his PJ top, my eyelids dropping with tiredness and by the time he's finished brushing his teeth I'm already half asleep.

*************

And so it had been with dreamy thoughts that I'd slipped into slumber that night. I'd wakened early next morning refreshed and for the longest time I'd lay in bed replaying everything over in my head, eventually rising at daybreak. The coffee pot readied itself as I prepared a note of thanks to Father Paul. It was definitely time to make contact with Willow but given both our circumstances I'd decided it was much too soon for a meeting in person if ever at all, and armed with paper, pen, fresh coffee and a shaking hand I'd drafted a second letter; this time to my birth mother.

'Dear Willow... Dear Mother... Dear Sister Mary Grace...'

Aside from my written confessions to Max last year, this had been the hardest letter I'd ever scripted and in the end I'd chosen simply to address her as 'Mummy'. It had never been an endearment that I'd used with my mum granting me less guilt at initiating contact with Willow. It also meant that should she decide not to reply or indeed not be permitted to read my letter, then her absence in my life could remain separate from my everyday existence and relationships.

Following our arrival at Heathrow the kids and I had bid a tearful farewell to Max, and even though he'd be gone for a mere three nights, deep down inside I missed him already. We'd arrived home at teatime and once I'd settled the children I knew it was time to contact mum. She'd been so overwhelmed receiving my Skype call, falling over herself apologising for her and dad's interference but assuring me throughout how much she loved us all. We'd both cried.