Loneliness Trilogy Bundle Boxset (11 page)

“Damn!” says the dumbfounded driver. “Not that the airline employee knows who you are, that he’d even try this - shit! Bet he doesn’t work for that airline anymore.”

“No, he doesn’t,” Tim says. “I’m sorry he’s out of a job in this economy, but he should have figured out a better way to let his employer know of his unhappiness.”

“Yep. Sucks, doesn’t it? Hey, keep every receipt, just in case you decide to sue the loser.”

“Yes, we are.”

Ten minutes later, we pile out of the mini-van and carry in the bulky instruments and sound equipment. After talking to the UPS manager, we decide on the best way to ship the instruments back and we pay for the shipping fees. We are promised delivery within seven days. Thankfully, we have replacement instruments back in England that we can use to practice.

At the restaurant, we decide to eat a healthy breakfast. I’ll be requesting some snacks on board so that I can keep my stomach from going empty. Unfortunately, post 9/11, we can’t take our own snacks - or even water - aboard. I shall be keeping those poor flight attendants very busy. After we eat, our driver takes us to the airport. Once our baggage has been checked, I shuffle through my carry-on for my e-reader. We have three hours before we board, and I want to read. Yes, it’s in there. We go through X-ray and customs, and then take seats in the International terminal. Here’s where I pull my e-reader out. All of us have come with activities to keep us busy - music, Sudoku puzzles, books, e-readers and, in my case, crochet. If I finish my current project, there’s no cutting the yarn on the plane. I’ll have to stop at that point and just wait to weave off the ends until I get home.

On board, Marcus and I sit together. He bends his head near mine and brings up a topic I’d been wondering about - moving in before we get married or waiting. My father’s pretty traditional, so I let Marcus know that.

“I’ll keep my apartment until the day we marry. Then, I’ll stop my lease,” I tell him.

Chapter 8

O
ur flight is uneventful - until we hit turbulence in the North Atlantic. It’s late summer, but this part of the world is still buffeted by cold winds. The unpredictable motions of the plane wreak havoc on my tummy. Before long, I am retching into a sick bag. The flight attendant brings a wet washcloth to Marcus for me then fetches hot water and a teabag. I’m sipping carefully on my tea as Marcus goes through my carry-on, looking for the anti-emetic medication. Finding it, he gives it to me with a significant look. I take it, hoping to keep it down. Fortunately, the turbulence smooths out, for now, at least. The medication makes me drowsy and my head slowly slides over until I’m nestled into Marcus’s side. I barely feel him taking my e-reader out from under my hand before I fall into deep slumber.

I wake up when the flight attendants tell us that we are now over England and they instruct us to buckle our seatbelts and raise our trays fully upright. I check Marcus’ wristwatch and find that we still have half-an-hour before we land, so I continue to crochet. Finally, I feel the plane beginning to lose altitude and I tuck my crochet away. Fifteen minutes later, we touch down on British land again. After our plane has taxied to the terminal, we remove our carry-ons from the luggage bins and get ready to leave the plane. I apologize to the flight attendants for my illness over the North Atlantic.

“Oh, miss, it’s no problem! You’ve got a little one in the oven, so it’s to be expected,” says the tiny British flight attendant. “I just hope you’re feeling more normal again.”

“Much better, yes. But after a night in my own bed, I’ll be even better,” I tell her.

In the terminal, we go to the baggage claim area and find our bags, thankfully, all in one piece.

“Hey, now, we get to drive on the correct side of the road!” Laslow jokes.

We all laugh. This was one of the hardest things for us to get used to - traffic driving down the right side of the road. I kept wanting to tell our drivers that we should be driving down the left side of the roads we were on, but eventually, that urge went away.

Finally, we get home! Marcus gives me a soft kiss, promising to be at my place later that evening. I nod sleepily. Right now, all I want to do is sleep! Once I lock my flat door behind me, I leave my luggage in my living room and make a beeline for my bedroom. Covering up - its cold - I fall asleep immediately. Several hours later, I wake up to hear my phone ringing.

“Hello?”

“Johanna? It’s your mum. How are you?”

I nearly slip and tell her that I’m pregnant. Biting back that response, I tell her, “Napping. It was an intense tour, mum.”

“Are you coming over?”

I have to finesse this one. They don’t know that I’m expecting a baby, much less that I’m already wearing maternity clothing.

“Actually, I am very tired. I need to wash and get my bearings now that I’m back home. I’ll call and let you know when I’m alert - besides, Tim’s going to want to have a meeting with the band, if not a full practice,” I tell her.

“Okay, darling, just give us a ring and we’ll get something for dinner,” she promises. After I ring off, I roll over and fall asleep again. I don’t wake again until about ten minutes before Marcus calls me. I really needed that sleep! I feel much better - stronger, even. However, I do need to think about how I’m going to break my big news to mum, dad and my siblings.

“Marcus, my mum wants me to go over for a big celebration, but as soon as they see me, they’ll know what’s up,” I tell him.

“Will they be upset?”

“My dad will. My mum and siblings will be happy,” I respond.

“Let’s do this. Set up a date and I’ll go with you. Deflect your dad’s feelings. Let them know that we are engaged,” he says with a soft smile.

We make dinner and enjoy eating in the solitude of my own kitchen. After we wash up, we cuddle in my living room.

“So, let’s talk about a possible wedding date. Do you want to be Mrs. Hadley before our little one makes his or her appearance?”

“That’s what I was thinking - get married before I get much bigger. I’m sure I can find a wedding wait! I ‘ll just wear one of my maternity concert dresses,” I suggest to Marcus.

“I was sort of thinking of seeing you in a fluffy wedding dress,” Marcus says.

“Hmmm… I’ll look like our wedding cake. Actually, why not wear one of my concert dresses? I won’t get much use out of them before our little Hadley’s born and the dresses aren’t so fancy that they wouldn’t pass for a non-traditional wedding dress,” I say. Getting up, I go to my garment bag and carefully extract each dress. I spread them out on the bed in my room.

Marcus follows me to my room and we look at each dress.

“If we go with your suggestion I’d love to see you wearing this one,” he says, pointing to a light champagne, shimmery dress that falls in several simple layers from my breasts to the ground. It’s a simple-yet-elegant dress with one wide strap. When I wear this, one of my shoulders is exposed. “Why don’t you put this one on?”

I strip down and slip into the dress and look at myself in my full-length cheval mirror. I like what I see! Looking at Marcus, I see a strong glint of appreciation in his eyes. He runs a finger down the shimmery fabric and it shivers and dances over the front of my body.

“I think you’re onto something here,” he says. “It’s a light color and you don’t look pregnant. I would love it if your family would be there, so I think we should tell them soon that they’re going to be grandparents and aunties and uncles.”

I swallow and take a deep breath.

“Okay. I’ll set up dinner with them and we can let them know, although my clothing will give everything away,” I say.

That night, Marcus stays at my place. We’ll be keeping our own flats until I move into his - or we move into a larger place after we get married. Our lovemaking is spirited. I’m feeling much better being back on English soil. I have energy to spare, so I tell Marcus not to hold back.

When he hears that, his hands, tongue and lips are everywhere on my body. He tongues my clit and brings me to a strong and throbbing orgasm. I lick and suck on him and, before he comes, he signals me to stop. He enters me and we finish, bringing each other to hot orgasms that send heat curling through every inch of our bodies. We sleep.

The next day, he tells me he needs to meet with a potential new client. “Once I’m done, I’ll pick you up and we’ll go eat out, then we’ll stay at my place,” he promises.

I drive to the studio and practice with the band. It’s a good session - now that I have more energy and I’m not feeling sick all the time, I’m feeling back to normal. Marcus picks me up and we go to a wonderful Mediterranean restaurant, Ali Baba’s, where I order a chicken kebab, a Greek salad and their rice. Marcus orders a huge gyro with a salad.

“I talked to my mum and we’re set to go to their place this Friday,” I tell him.

“Good. I want to meet them. I know your dad will be upset with me, so I want to let him know just how much I love you and want to be your husband.”

After we take a slow after-dinner walk, we drive to Marcus’ flat. I’m surprised when I see a flashy, nubile young woman walk into his small front yard.

The other woman gives Marcus a flirtatious smile and, as he gets out of his car, she runs her fingers up his chest. I’m stunned. I see him take her hand and push it away from him. Because he’s outside his car, I don’t see his expression. I get out of the car and loop my purse strap over my shoulder.

“I’ve told you…I am not interested in you in that way!” he says.

The young woman gives him what she thinks is a winsome pout - she actually looks like she has duck lips when she does that. I know - I’m being uncharitable and all that, but he’s my fiance.

“Marcus, who’s the young…woman?” I ask him sweetly.

“My neighbor. Now that she knows I’m back in England, she’s trying to get my attention. Lisa, this is my fiancee, Johanna Williams.”

“Oh, well she’s only your fiancee because she’s knocked up with your kid,” says Lisa crudely.

I stop on my side of the car. Marcus steps around Lisa and comes to my side. His eyes are communicating something to me. I want to be angry, go home and throw things, but first, I need to read his message.

“Johanna, you have nothing at all to worry about. Lisa is nothing to me. She’s never been significant to me.”

I give him a look that asks “Why does she think she has a shot at you?”

As he reads the question in my eyes, Marcus takes my arm and draws me close to him. “Lisa, I fell in love with Johanna several months ago. I’ve asked her to marry me. My message to you today is just the same as it was five months ago - I am not interested in you. I will never be interested in you, so your efforts are wasted on me. Go now, please.”

Hearing this, I relax and lean against Marcus with a smile.

“No, you just knocked her up and you’re feeling guilty!” Lisa shouts.

“Lisa, if you don’t go, I’ll call the police. You have five seconds,” says Marcus, pulling his phone out of his pants pocket.

Lisa, seeing Marcus following through on his words, clamps her mouth shut tightly. She turns on her stiletto heels and attempts to march out of Marcus’ lawn, but the heels sink into the soft ground. Instead, she wobbles and stumbles and I am hard-pressed not to break out into rude, loud laughter.

Marcus retrieves my overnight bag and walks into his flat with me. Inside, he closes his blinds, looking for any sign of Lisa.

“So, how long has she had the hots for you?” I ask him.

“One year. And I’ve told her every time that I’m not interested in her, at all. She tries every so often. Johanna, she’s the personification of insanity - trying to do the same thing every time and hoping for different results every time,” says Marcus.

“Well…okay. But if she keeps trying, I’m going to let her have it,” I promise him.

“If you have better results than me, have at her!” Marcus suggests.

“Let’s see what happens,” I say. “I don’t want to borrow trouble.”

We cuddle with each other on Marcus’ long, leather couch. We’re lying together, talking and playing with each other’s skin when someone knocks at his door.

Marcus gives me a quizzical look. “I’m not expecting anyone. Stay here.”

At the door, I hear Lisa’s distinctive, nasally voice. Getting up, I join Marcus at the door and take the time to position my left hand on Marcus’ chest. My engagement ring glitters in the fading light of day.

“Oy, Lisa. Take a look at this. Marcus presented this to me in the United States and asked me to marry him. We’ve pledged our love to each other. I’ve been in love with him since before I got pregnant. He’s a good, honest man and he doesn’t need to be dragged down by the likes of you. He told you what he thinks of you a few hours ago. If you don’t leave - and, if you come back one more time - I’m pressing charges against…”

“D’you know that we slept together just two months ago?” Lisa asks with a look of greed in her eyes.

This stops me. Two months ago - we were on tour and Marcus was still here in England.

I look at him. He’s stunned. Do I believe her? Or him? I decide to test her.