The Affectionate Player - Part2

Epilogue

14 months later... Alfriston, East Sussex

"Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, dear Monty! Happy birthday to you!"

Mid-autumn sunshine streams through the leafy trees into our delightful garden, the pretty borders laden with late flowering shrubs, grasses lush and long in the prairie beyond. Our new home in this wonderful historic village is a haven of beauty surrounded by high flint walls and stunning countryside, providing a much desired sanctuary from the world outside.

Family and friends have joined us this weekend, laughing and today eating cake together; an idyllic setting for Monty's fifth birthday party. I gaze at our son watching him run the length of our garden with old friends and new, little Holly wobbling along after him with her wild blonde curls bobbing softly on her shoulders.

Immersed in joy I relish this feeling not long ago believing I might never know such happiness again. As it does in times like these my mind drifts back to the morning after our wedding and all that followed; Jonny's death, Max's fight to stay alive and his struggle in the aftermath to come to terms with his injuries.

For Max though strength and positivity had taken a long time to return and in his first interview seven months ago he'd candidly declared the truth. Weeks later upon release of the magazine he'd called me from physio advising me his parents were enroute to collect our babies, arriving home an hour later with a copy tucked into the back of his wheelchair. He'd insisted I open Champagne and settle to listen to him read the article, describing how those early days had been the darkest of his life when often he'd feel hopeless, everyday praying I'd be there when he opened his eyes.

He'd chosen not to address this during the counselling sessions we'd shared fearing it would send me running for the hills. But to confide his fears and impassioned words, to listen as he read them aloud with such honesty and bravery; for him it had felt like the end of his therapy, his closure. And for me it was the beginning of the rest of our lives - I couldn't have been more proud of him.

As if the evening had not been momentous enough he'd finished the article sending me into meltdown by standing in front of me for the first time since that fateful day, crossing the room unaided in seven miraculous steps – a surprise he'd been planning for months. With grins as wide as Australia and happy tears flowing he'd softly caressed my face, his hands wandering and exploring every inch of my body, and ever so slowly we'd made sweet love cherishing each moment taking nothing for granted.

Within days Max's agent Scarlet had called, advising him of two confirmed new projects and the premiere date in Cannes for his movie – the director having delayed its release until Max was well on his feet had been aware of my husband's progressive recovery and was now eager to get it out there ahead of awards seasons. Having never visited Cannes nor walked the red carpet I'd been nervous of the premiere and concerned for Max. I needn't have worried – the fans roared louder for him than any other celebrity and to my complete surprise a few asked for selfies with us both all the while thanking me for looking after their man. It was sweet really and for their moment with their man I'd happily shared him.

I observe him now joking with Rudi as they sit drinking beers with Caitlin and the gorgeous little girls they'd welcomed into the world within weeks of our wedding. It had been an honour to accept their invitation to be Godparents, as it had been for them when we'd asked the same for Monty and Holly. How joyous each occasion had been for all families with many celebrations in the four countries we call home.

My eyes wander around the garden as I collect a few empty plates noting Gil and Olivia discussing with my parents the redecoration of their recent joint purchase - a weekend retreat for them all they visit us. Of course we've been told, "All arrangements are for convenience and inheritance planning, darlings", with both continuing to deny any romantic involvement. Perhaps someday that might change but as long as they're happy together that's good enough for us.

Steve Brooks, who'd been instrumental in much of our distress, has visited today as he does now on most family occasions. Having retired early from the Met following Jonny's shooting, he'd united with his friend expanding the personal security team to include private investigation. Joining our parents in discussion, he and Maria chat pleasantly together exchanging ideas about garden furniture, neither suspecting for a moment we're aware of their growing friendship.

Returning from the kitchen with tea and coffee my eyes stray to Max. For the umpteenth time in as many hours I find myself admiring the renewed strength of his body and the efforts of his personal trainer thanking high heaven that she knows exactly how to push him. With his tight muscles neat in a pale blue shirt and the leanness of his hips sitting effortlessly in his trousers I catch my breath at the sight of him so toned and edible. My thoughts stray further recalling last weekend's cheeky fumble sending shock waves south of my navel.

Sensing my hunger his eyes dart to mine and stopping mid-sentence he smirks, knowingly. Making whatever excuses to our friends he slips from the chair sauntering toward me, his manner cocky as he swigs his beer.

"You've been watching me, again. Haven't you?" Kissing the nape of my neck I shudder deliciously. "I'm not going to disappear, you know. Are you hungry?"

"Starved."

"We're not alone, Mrs Jacob."

"I'm well aware of that."

"Then behave."

"I don't want to."

"What will you have me do? I can't send our guests home. It's our son's birthday party."

"I can think of something."

"You can?"

"Something...temporary."

"Like what?"

"It involves your tongue."

I barely say the words before he takes my hand pulling me through the kitchen and leading me to the dining room. Locking the door behind us he carefully drops my new Roman blinds then turning to face me his expression changes.

"You are seriously turning me on, Gracie. We're on dangerous territory here."

"Best territory I know." Feeling sexy and perilous I sit on the table, my feet finding a chair either side of my limbs. Without saying a word I lift my dress slipping my knickers to the side, exposing myself.

"You're keeping everything on?"

"You're wasting time, husband."

"Heels too?"

"I'm waiting." Smirking cheekily he falls to his knees gripping my thighs hard and as the tip of his nose inhales deeply I cry out in anticipation.

"Later, when they go, I'm going to take you on this table."

"Oh, yes please!"

"And I'm going to come inside you."

"But you know I'm not protected."

"That's the sexiest fucking thing you've said all day."

"Max! I'm forty one."

"Well counted, Beautiful."

"Please, kiss me."

"You're glistening."

"I'm in agony."

"Promise you'll consider it."

"A baby?"

"Our last baby. I think."

"But the new business. Soph can't manage things on her own."

"She'll be fine. She loves babies."

"Jesus, please just taste me! The heat from your mouth is killing me!"

"Say it, Beautiful."

"OK! I'll consider it. Now, please Max..."

He says nothing more, his eyes revealing everything I know this man is feeling and as his mouth covers me I know in my heart I'll do anything for his love, as he will for mine.

                                                                                      T H E   E N D