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Jane and Paul are my old foster parents, and Benny’s adoptive parents. Benny and I met when they fostered us both as teenagers. They kept us for almost a year before booting me back to the group home and starting the process of adopting him.
Cyrus’s smile gets wider. “Oh, I know who you are,” he murmurs, his eyes subtly dropping from my face to my hips.
No one says anything. I look up. All three men are staring at me, their eyes wide. I blink. “What?” “She’s a witch,” Cyrus says faintly. “What the hell. She’s been crying for about six hours straight. Are you saying all we had to do is pick her up?”
I’m not usually like this. I’m generally a pretty shy person. I don’t think I’ve ever been so rude to a group of strangers in my life, but I don’t screw around with child safety.
If I’m honest, I’ve been kind of infatuated with Beth ever since I first met her. I remember it so clearly; she was in the reception, trying to carry her luggage into the lift and failing miserably. She was wearing a white dress with little red hearts all over it. Her hair was windswept, and her cheeks were flushed by the sun. She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. Since then, I’ve picked up all sorts of information about her. I know she shops at the local Lidl. I know she’s terrible at taking her washing out of the communal driers. I know that she gets more bills pushed into her
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“I don’t fancy her,” I protest. “Say her name without blushing.” I open my mouth, then snap it shut again.
Jack doesn’t say anything. He’s staring at me, his eyes trailing over his hoodie. “You look nice,” he blurts out. “In my clothes.” I blink at him, and he cringes. “Sorry. That sounded weird. I’ve been up almost two days straight.”
“I’ve always liked kids. I understand them better than adults, usually.”
“Do you think she’ll like it?” “Only one way to find out.” He kneels down next to the carrier, stroking Cami’s face. “I got you a present, ladybug,” he says quietly, nestling the rabbit in next to her. Cami sighs, stirs, and grabs at it with her eyes still closed, hugging it against her. Cyrus’s smile lights up his whole face.
“You seem attached,” I note. “What’s not to get attached to? She’s the cutest kid I’ve ever seen.” He tweaks one of her pigtails, and she beams up at him, spitting applesauce down her chin. “Very ladylike,” he praises, wiping off her mouth.
“Okay. What do you put inside a six-month-old baby’s cot?” He looks taken aback. “Just… a mattress, a pillow and some quilts, right? And her toy?” He looks at Cyrus, who shrugs. “A mattress and a fitted sheet. No pillows. Suffocation hazard.” Jack pales. Cyrus clears his throat. “What’s your overtime, sugar?” “About as much as a medium ham and pineapple pizza. With extra cheese.” “Noted.”
“Jack, I swear to God, if you come back with any of your nerdy cartoon shirts—” “She’s a baby. All kids’ shirts have cartoons on.” “Then why the hell do you wear them?” “Beth likes my shirts,” Jack argues.
“You’re telling me,” I say slowly, “that man just found out he has a baby daughter, and he just ran away? He won’t touch her, or pick her up, or hold her? He’s just disappeared into his study to work?!”
This is how I like to keep things. Orderly. Clean. Tidy. When your external environment is controlled, it’s much easier to control your internal one. And I need to keep myself under control. When I don’t, people get hurt.
“I’ll buy you as many presents as you want,” I tell her quietly. “Doshoodabay!” she babbles up at me, frog-kicking her legs. “Aw, you’re welcome.” “Ishbabady!”
“Can I see? What’s it called?” He hesitates. “The, uh… The Legend of Azaran.” He looks embarrassed. I’m not sure why. That name sounds sick as hell. I open up the games store on my phone. “Number eight paid game in the store.” I say, impressed, and download it.
“I’m running behind. But call me, okay? Love you.” “Aww, thanks.” He narrows his eyes. “I love you,” he repeats pointedly. “You’re my number one guy.” “I love you so much,” he insists. “Couldn’t survive without you.” He groans. “One of these days, I’ll make you say it.”
I know it’s stupid. But I have a ninety-nine percent track record of people I love leaving me. Parents. Grandparents. Foster parents. Boyfriends. Friends. Benny is the only person I have left. I don’t want to jinx it.
Jack’s hand shoots out and wraps around my wrist, keeping me in place. “I have a crush on you,” he blurts out.
“You’re not even bloody sleeping, you knob.” “I will if you keep petting me.” He stretches luxuriously, looking up at me through his long lashes. “You’re really comfy, sugar.”
I was kind of disappointed that we couldn’t all go out tonight, but maybe it’s better this way. A formal date would’ve felt too romantic. I’ve learned the hard way that women don’t really want me for romance. I’ve tried to have real relationships in the past, but the general feedback seems to be that I’m good for sex, and that’s about it.
“I realised a few years ago that whenever I date someone, I end up changing myself to fit what they like. If they like quiet people, I talk less. If they like loud people, I get more bubbly. If they like football, I’ll learn to like it too. I find all the things that make them happy, and I mould myself into that person. I don’t notice myself doing it, until we break up, and I realise that I’m nothing like the person that I was before. All of the things that I like and dislike just get swallowed up.”
“When I’m alone, I’m myself. I get to be me. So I think I’m better off alone. At least until I work out how to stay true to myself.”
“He’s reading her a story,” he says, looking amused. “Seriously?” “Well. It’s a chapter from a textbook about international copyright law. I’ve told him he has to at least do funny voices to keep her interested, but he refuses.”
“Christ,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. “Jesus, Beth. You are—” He reaches out to touch my thigh. “You’re perfect.”
“You like him,” he says softly, curls falling over his face. The realisation crashes over me like a wave. He’s right. Sebastian is hard, and cold, and rude. And I still somehow fancy him. “Well. I do have a habit of liking people who treat me terribly. I’m probably one rude email from falling in love with him.”
He tugs me into the dressing room. I squeak, covering my eyes—but not before I get an eyeful of abs, biceps, and bare, muscly thighs. I’m pretty sure I saw a penis. “Hey!” someone calls. “What the hell? You didn’t let me bring my girl in here!” “Sorry!” I call, keeping my eyes squeezed shut as Cyrus drags me through the room. “I’m not looking!”
My eyes are drawn to Cyrus like he’s magnetised. He’s looking right at me. As I watch, he blows me a kiss.
Cy ignores them all, jumping right off the stage and making a beeline through the tables. Women scream and reach for him, running their hands over his chest and tugging at his belt as he strides past. He walks through them as if they don’t even exist, his eyes locked on me. “Holy shit,” Benny says. “Oh my God. Is he looking at you?” “I would say so,” I squeak, clutching my drink like a lifeline.
“You can touch anything that your lovely gentleman lets you. But don’t grope our poor boys, okay? Or we’ll have to tie your hands down. You don’t want that, do you?” More screams. “That rule doesn’t apply to you,” Cyrus murmurs, his dark eyes not leaving mine. “You can touch absolutely anything you like.”
“You can’t stay on the floor. You need to sleep.” I slide my arm around his trim waist. “Lean on me. I’ll help you up.” “You know how small you are, right?” he grits out. “You’re like a troll doll.” “Less insults, more standing, please.”
He mumbles something incomprehensible. I lean closer, and a lock of my hair falls into his face. He catches it and examines it fuzzily. “Pretty,” he mumbles. “Oh. Uh, thanks. I always thought it was a bit carrot-y.” “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met,” he slurs, winding the curl around his finger.
“Since you were a kid, you were told that you were some kind of violent monster. So you keep all of your emotions locked inside you, until the pressure gets so bad you get physically ill.” His mouth flattens. “I have to. For the sake of the people around me.” “Sebastian. You hit a man once, when you were a child. That does not make you a monster.”
I float awake to the sound of voices. “Quick,” someone hisses. “Oh my God, they’re so cute. Get a picture.” “Don’t,” Seb’s voice warns. “But it’s your first ever cuddle, mate! We need to memorialise it!”
“You’re doing great,” I murmur in his ear. I figure he probably needs to hear it. His breath hitches in his chest. He nuzzles into me. “You’re the sweetest woman alive,” he mumbles against my cheek.
“Beth. My whole childhood, I thought there was something wrong with me.” “There wasn’t,” she whispers. “You weren’t the problem, Seb.”
“I think it’s kinda hot. Like I’ve… unlocked another level of you.” “A video game metaphor. You’ve been hanging around me and Jack too much. We’re rubbing off on you.”
“Holy shit, Seb,” she mumbles. “You’re a freaking nuclear weapon.” It was just as good for her, then. Thank God. I nuzzle into her soft curls, breathing in her sweet apple scent. “My dick causes widespread death and destruction?” “It belongs in a fucking containment facility. Made of concrete. Buried fifty feet underground. Somewhere near the Earth’s core, where no poor, innocent girl will accidentally stumble across it and get fucked to pieces.” She twitches as an aftershock runs through her. “I think I’m dead. My vagina exploded.”
“What were you expecting?” I wrap a curl around my finger, tugging it and watching it spring back into place. “Silent missionary sex where you counted your thrusts and thought about the upcoming tax season to get yourself off.”
I won’t apologise for my job. I truly believe there’s nothing wrong with it, and I love doing it. But I’m so used to people judging me for what I do. Making assumptions about who I am. And she doesn’t.
“I know you guys think I’m a total goodie-two shoes because I work in childcare. But I’m not actually Mary Poppins.”
Jack grins. “He has a thing for girls wearing his clothes.” Cyrus snorts. “Thing. It’s pretty much a kink, at this point.” “You look good,” Sebastian rasps, trailing a hand down my bare leg.
But at the same time, I feel safe. Cared for. Protected. These men will use me however they want—and they want to make me feel good. It’s a thrilling feeling.
“Oh my God,” I yell. “Jesus Christ, just come!” Three laughs burst around me. “You heard the lady,” Cyrus says. “Just come, mate.” “Piss off,” Jack mutters. “Please,” I say, my voice breaking with pleasure. “I don’t w-wanna die l-like this.” “Worse ways to go,” Cyrus quips.
I wriggle as Cyrus rolls closer and sucks my nipple into his mouth. “Jesus, Cy—” “Don’t mind me,” he mumbles sleepily, laving me with his tongue. “Just suckin’ a tit.”
“Your ovaries are no longer releasing eggs. You cannot have children.”
What did I do wrong? Why am I not allowed to have a family? Everybody else has one; why can’t I? I don’t have anyone. Anyone at all. For God’s sake, I just need one person. Someone who cares that my heart has just broken.
“Why didn’t you tell me? Do you hate me that much? I get that you don’t want me anymore, but you’ve just taken away my ability to have kids, for God’s sake. You’ve taken away any chance of me ever having a family. Why?” She looks me dead in the eye. Her face is very pale. “Because I forgot.”
“Why are they good enough for you, and I’m not?” Nonna takes a deep breath through her nose. “Perhaps,” she says icily, “you should consider why we couldn’t keep you. Because I can assure you, we damn well tried to love you.” Her eyes glint nastily. “You were an insufferable child.”
“No one’s ever needed me,” I whisper. “Not once in my life.”
