Hot Revenge Box Set 4

Chapter 15

James

I watch from the doorway: my Jade-Eyes, in the nursery with the daughter she gave me, rocking her, cooing over her, talking to her.

She doesn’t see me, engrossed with Cara. Our baby goos and gurgles at her mother, a tiny hand reaching for a long copper lock of Charlotte’s hair, swinging loose draping over Cara’s creamy wrap.

So beautiful…

Both so beautiful…

I think Charlotte must have just given Cara her feed. She still has the towel over her shoulder she uses when she’s burping her. Even from here, the towelling looks damp. The top she’s wearing, not quite buttoned up, is stained too.

As I watch, Charlotte rises from the rocking chair her mother painted so beautifully for her, lays Cara in her cot and brushes herself down. As she turns to drop the shoulder towel into a laundry basket, she sees me. Content © NôvelDrama.Org.

“Oh!” And then she laughs. “Sorry, Master. I didn’t see you there.”

“I was enjoying watching you.”

She looks towards the cot, eyes alight. “I know I’m her mother, but I don’t think there’s ever been anything so wonderful ever.”

I pull her into my arms. “You’re wrong there. Cara’s mother takes first place on that one. But Cara runs a close second.”

She yields into my embrace, then making a face, pulls away. “Um… better let me change. Or you’ll smell of cheese all day too.” Still smiling, she strips off her soiled blouse, tossing it at the basket. The heavy-grade maternity bra follows. She lets out air. “It’s wonderful doing this. But I’ll be happier when I can put on clean clothes and stay that way. It would be nice to feel sexy again.”

“Why don’t you put on something pretty now. Cara will sleep for a few hours at least. Just be ready to go back into ‘Mom mode’ when she wakes. Meanwhile, we can have a glass of wine down by the fire. You, me and Michael. We’ll leave the baby monitor switched on. It’ll be just like old times.”

She dimples. “Sounds great. Actually, I did get some new clothes. Just give me a minute. I’ll show you.”

She darts out of the room. I make to follow but she flaps hands back at me. “No, just wait there. It’s a surprise.”

Charlotte getting enthusiastic about clothes is an event rare enough to rate headlines. I’m happy to humour her. From the bedroom next door, drawers and wardrobe doors bang and clatter.

Mitch comes up the stairs, heading straight for the nursery. As she sees me, “Jenny?”

“Wants to show me some new clothes.”

She arches a brow. “And when is the rain of frogs due?”

“I’ll let you know.”

Charlotte reappears, beaming. “Isn’t it lovely.”

I wind my finger in a circle and she gives me a twirl. In shades of warm brown and dark green, the fabric of the skirt is heavy: winter-weight but cut to flare, swishing around her legs in an elegant swirl. The pullover seems plain at first, but as Charlotte moves, the knit is of some complicated pattern giving

a subtle knot-work effect over the front. It smooths over her full bosom and narrowing waist, emphasising everything she has. She pauses, sucking at her lip as she waits for my verdict.

My Jade-Eyes…

“Yes, it is lovely. And it suits you very well.”

She dimples. “I hoped you’d like it.”

Mitch Hmmms… hooking a finger into the back of the pullover, then arching the brow again as she reads the label. “First time I’ve seen you pay for designer wear…” She stands back, appraising her daughter. “… But it was money well spent. As your figure shrinks, I’ll be able to alter the skirt, so it shrinks with you.”

Charlotte beams. “Really? That’d be great. I did pay a lot, so I’d like to get some wear out of the outfit.”

“Ah-ha.” Mitch examines the pullover, feeling the yarn between thumb and forefinger. “The top should shrink a bit with you too, but right now it’s making a good show of your assets.” Her eyes dance, flicking down to Charlotte’s maternity-inflated bust.

She blushes, hugging arms around herself. “Awww… Mom.”

From her cot, Cara burbles and all heads swing her way. Over ten seconds, her burbles turn to cries and Charlotte is already picking her up as they rise to full-blown wails.

Charlotte jogs her up and down... “Shhh… it’s alright, Baby. Shhh…” … patting her on the back.

Mitch holds out a warning hand… “Jenny…” But Cara abruptly flushes bright red, opens her mouth and spews. Milky vomit fountains over Charlotte, splurging over her shoulder and down her back. Another geyser-like burp, and a second shower splashes over her front, soaking the pullover then dripping glutinously down over the skirt.

Mitch offers out hands, “Here, I’ll take her.” A final micro-burp: Cara gurgles happily then promptly falls asleep in Grandma’s arms. Her entire output has ended up over Charlotte. Her pink onesie is still fluffy and clean. Mitch wipes her face with a tissue then pops her back in her bed.

Charlotte stands, hands held away from her body, dripping with puke, stinking, and looking like a kind of whited-out version of Carrie in the final scene of the movie. Creamy vomit is splashed over her hands and face. Her designer sweater is sopping and the brand-new skirt is, if not ruined, at least unusable again before a visit to the dry cleaners.

She bursts into tears.

“Hey, come on,” I say, trying to laugh it away. “It’s not the end of the world.”

I reach to touch her but she jerks her arm away. “Leave me alone. Don’t touch me!”

Mitch’s voice is calm. “Jenny, it happens with babies. Don’t get so upset…”

“Upset? Upset!” Charlotte’s voice rises to a screech, her face colouring up. Mitch backs away. “… It’s the first nice thing I’ve worn in months! I didn’t even have chance to get out of the room with it.”

I step between the pair of them, hands held up placatingly. “Charlotte, it’s not a disaster. We’ll get the clothes laundered. I’ll buy you a new outfit. Really, it’s not a problem. Now calm down.”

Again, she pulls away from me, chin quivering. “I never feel sexy anymore. I’m the size of a whale and…”

“Charlotte!” My tone is sharp and Mitch gives me a warning look, nodding towards the cot. Lowering my voice, “Charlotte, you chose to do this. Yes, motherhood has its ups and downs. Five minutes ago, you were telling me you’d never known anything so wonderful.”

Her voice trembles. “That was before I was covered in barf.” She looks down at herself, muttering…” What I paid for this…”

Mitch turns brisk. “Jenny, try to see the funny side. You just have to get used to it I’m afraid…”

“I don’t want to get fucking used to being covered in fucking vomit!” And she barges past both me and Mitch and out of the room.

*****