Chapter 30

Chapter Thirty

Julian

I wasn’t surprisedthat Rosie was overwhelmed, given the huge turnaround her life had taken, but out of all the things she was feeling, gratitude didn’t need to be one of them. I tried to convey that as best as I could.

She calmed down quickly, and it was another glimpse at just how composed my princess was for a girl who was just eighteen years old. It was both beautiful and tragic. I could only imagine the years she’d spent in much bigger shoes than the ones she should have been wearing.

“Did you write a chapter today?” she asked, and I directed her to my laptop, in its usual spot at the dining table.

“Indeed, I did.”

If only she knew the half of it. I’d written one hell of a lot more than a single chapter, but the content wasn’t ready for her eyes. Not yet.

She took her seat and I took mine next to her as she dug into the chapter onscreen. This scene was based on one of our true to life ones, of her spread for me, stretched and bound by rope while I teased her ass and pussy at the same time, her legs high against her chest as she moaned like a whore. I’d been incredibly descriptive of her. As she read, she blushed, looking shy.

“I still can’t believe you see me like this,” she said. “You make me sound so stunning and hot. It’s crazy.”

“It’s true, not crazy. It’s exactly how I see you, and exactly as you are.”

“Stop it. You’ll make me blush.”

“You’re already blushing, sweetheart. It’s adorable.”

The kinkiness shone in her eyes at that, my words clearly having an impact.

“I don’t think I want to be adorable right now, I want to be your slut, like I am right here, on the pages.”

She didn’t get any argument from me. My cock did the talking, recreating the scene over the coffee table while she moaned like the bitch I’d portrayed her as, the word SLUT in capital letters right the way across her tits.

My goddess still had the word displayed proudly as I smoked my post coital cigarette. She sat back down at the table and read the scene a second time over, with my cum still dripping out of her asshole. I’d spurted a lot inside her. Her ass was welcome to it today, since I really needed to hold back from filling her pussy up at every opportunity. Ovulation calendars only work so well, and good fortune wouldn’t last for ever. The last thing Rosie needed on her journey was a baby in the mix before she’d even hit her twenties. I wanted to redress the responsibilities she’d faced through her life, not add more to them.

“Lola and Peter are coming here on Saturday? For dinner?” I asked as we ate my chicken paella a short while later. “They are sure they want to visit us, and not head out?”

“Yeah, very sure. They’re looking forward to it. They definitely want to come here.”

“Fine. Then they are very welcome.”

I understood Peter’s reservations about public life all too well. I wouldn’t have wanted to step out within a sixty-mile radius of Oxford once the world heard of my character deficiencies. I could handle being with Rosie in public throughout Worcester, because the emotional impact was on her in her community, not on me, but for a guy like Peter, who sounded as though he’d been bred, born and raised in the same street in Dine’s Green over forty years ago, the condemnation must have taken its toll.

Their upcoming appearance did bring some other considerations to mind. I cast my eyes around our home, and it reinforced just how threadbare it was. I’d only ever planned that my residence would be short-lived. I’d added new lamps, cushions, bedding and kitchen utensils, yes, but everything else remained the same. Battered and bare.

Rosie was beginning to read my mind.

“They won’t give a shit about this place. They won’t expect to be walking into the Ritz.”

“No, I’m sure they won’t, but there is quite a gulf.”

“Honestly, they won’t care.”

She was almost certainly right, but my own sense of pride was returning, all thanks to her. I wanted to show some of the facets of myself I’d long given up on. It felt as though it was time to take the next step in getting my life in order – since I’d now be living one. I wanted to be a good host, in an environment well taken care of.

I made Rosie porridge before she left for college next morning, but rather than call up my WIP, I started browsing online. I’d never been a wizard of flat pack furniture. In fact, my efforts would likely look considerably worse than the furniture I’d picked up from charity stores, so I browsed through some more high-end catalogues. Katreya would have been proud of my tastes, if she didn’t hate my filthy soul.

We still had a few days before Lola and Peter’s visit on the weekend, and many of the items had next-day delivery availability, so I had a potential purchase list ready for Rosie’s perusal when she arrived home that evening.

“What’s this, no chapter?” she asked as she sat her pretty butt down on the seat.

“There will be a chapter to come, but take a look at this first, please. I’d like your opinions and your thumbs up or down.”

She scrolled through, everything from a new dining table, to a large TV and surround sound, to a full three seater sofa suite. New crockery, and kitchen appliances. Even a master of a vintage wall clock and a gorgeous new rug for the floor.

“You really want all this?” she asked.

“Yes, I do. I want to create a home. With you.”

“This is already a home,” she said. “I don’t need you to dress it up, I promise. And neither will Lola and Pete.”

Her attempts to reassure me were beautiful, but unnecessary. From a selfishness perspective, I was looking forward to embracing the apartment changes for myself as well as for her. I must have conveyed that in my eyes. I needed this.

“Fine, cool,” she said, scrolling through the items afresh. “They’re all absolutely amazing. There’s just one thing I don’t like.”

“What’s that, princess?”

She pointed to the beautiful new leather chesterfield I’d selected.

“Can we please keep the old one?”

I chuckled, and shot the old one a glance. It was uncomfortable as hell.

“Really? You want to keep that thing?”

“It’s sentimental, don’t you think? I love it, even though it’s crappy to sit on.”

I looked it over once more, and sure enough, I felt it too. The first time we’d talked on there, and fucked on there, and shared pizza. So many memories already. I tried to engage my spatial awareness, considering whether we could add another small sofa to the room, rather than straight out replace our sweet old obsolete one, and I believed we could do. Just about. We’d need some more seats if we were having visitors.

“Let’s keep it, then. We’ll just make a little addition,” I said, and switched out the chesterfield choice onscreen to one a little smaller. “Anything else?”

She shook her head, eyes glowing. “It’s going to be insane, how great this place looks. I’ll be too nervous to touch anything.”

“That’s the last thing I’ll be wanting. I want you to feel as comfortable as can be. You can piss all over the new coffee table as soon as it arrives for all I care.” I touched her face. “And this is just the beginning. The bare essentials.”

“The bare essentials are all right here in this room,” she told me. “Me, you, and the old sofa.”

I laughed. “I think we’d need to count the kitchen in that shortlist as well, sweetheart. Unless you wanted to starve to death in my arms on the chesterfield.”

“Would be a good way to go.”

She had a point there. It would be a considerably better way to check out of existence than alone with a pile of pills.

So, I ordered the selection, with urgent, premium delivery times right through the week, and every day my goddess would jump with joy and admire the differences to our apartment when she’d get back from college. It made every single purchase ideal, and bit by bit, the place began to look like a real abode, not just a shambles disguised as one.

Deliveries weren’t the only things I was basing my schedule upon. Around those, while Rosie was busy with college, fucking, eating, sleeping and riling me with tales of romance novels she’d been reading, I found the time to take some other necessary steps towards life building.

I looked through car dealerships online, and on Friday afternoon I took a taxi to one in particular that had taken my fancy. I didn’t want something Oxford style extravagant, just something nice, and reliable, that would get Rosie and I around the country, to explore more than the dereliction of this crappy estate and the modest size of Worcester city centre.

Getting into the old Ford and taking it for a test drive months after having abandoned my vehicle at home was quite an experience. I had no idea how much I’d missed it. I had the vendor at my side pointing out the benefits, but I largely ignored him, tuned in to just how good it felt to be on the road again. I couldn’t wait to take Rosie out in it.

The deal was already sealed, the paperwork was just a necessity. I drove back to the apartment block and took advantage of the communal parking spaces, admiring the silver car as I walked away. It was nice. Well worth the money, unlike a load of the superficial monsters I’d had over the years.

Rosie was all set to read another chapter when she got in that evening. She definitely wasn’t expecting me to be standing in the hallway awaiting her, jangling the car keys in my hand.

“It was about time I got one,” I told her. “Nothing too wild, just a decent mode of transport.”

“Let me see!”

I took her down to the parking area and opened the passenger door for her. She got in with a squeal as though it was a limo I was about to take her for a drive in, and it put a smile on my face as I put my foot down on the accelerator and pulled away from the block. I drove straight out of the city and headed through Malvern towards Much Arlock, a little town I’d heard plenty of good things about. The rumours weren’t wrong. It was lovely. A quaint place with a Tudor market house on huge black stilts. There was a lovely looking hotel opposite, and I opted for that, parking up in the street outside.

“I’m not dressed for this,” she said, but I grinned at her, heading around to open the passenger door. She looked absolutely great as she was, with a pretty, blue summer dress on and white sneakers, her hair swept up in a high pony. It was only when we reached the bar that it became obvious just how big the age gap was for onlookers. The barmaid looked taken aback when Rosie leant in to kiss my neck and take hold of my arm, but I brushed that aside along with the screaming memories of Katreya and Grace looking at me like I was a piece of shit, worthy of roasting in hell.

Much Arlock was quite busy on a Friday night. We got a table for two by the window at the restaurant, talking quietly amidst the thrum in the restaurant and gazing at the street outside.

It was a world away from Crenham, and very different to the city of Oxford. The contrast was a welcome relief. Something fresh, and new, like the beautiful creature sitting opposite me with a glass of wine in her hand.

Having a car had other benefits alongside transport. It would stop me drinking.

I was sipping on soda water, immune to the call of whisky. Tonight, at least, that immunity was enough to see me through.

“I’ve never done anything like this before,” Rosie said as she finished up her chocolate fudge cake. “Nobody has ever taken me out like this.”

“I’m pleased to be your first.”

If my sensitivity to the way some of the guys were shooting glances in her direction was anything to go by, I’d be pleased to be her last, also. The very idea of another man sitting opposite my angel for a romantic dinner was enough to churn over the freshly eaten steak in my guts.

The roads were beautifully lit as we made our return to the dregs of our usual life. Every mile on the return felt like a travesty, as though neither of us belonged there. I was tempted to turn the car around and seek out somewhere else for us right there in the moment, but I remembered the hurt in Rosie’s eyes at the thought of ever leaving her mother. I couldn’t do that to her. When and if it was time to leave Crenham would be Rosie’s decision to make. In the meantime, Crenham would have to do.

It was dark when we arrived back at the apartment and opened the door. I reached inside for the light switch, and something scuffed against my shoe as I stepped on in. I bent down to pick up the roll of cash, bound up in what looked like a hair tie. I was pondering over it when I saw Rosie’s expression. She choked back a sob as she tried to keep her voice steady.

“That must be from my mum.” She took the cash from my hand, staring at it in horror. “I put some through her letterbox, because I knew she’d be struggling with the bills, and I wanted her to be safe, and I wanted her to keep taking my help… but she doesn’t want it… now she’s got paid she’s giving it back, but she must need it, though. She must.”

I followed the thread and pulled Rosie close. It wasn’t about the money, of course, it was about what it symbolised. A rejection of help. A rejection of love.

“She doesn’t want it, because she doesn’t want me,” Rosie cried, and I could have cursed out loud at her poor kind heart being broken.

“It’s not that she doesn’t want you, sweetheart, it’s that she’s angry at me.”

“I was angry at Scott too, and a whole load of the other pricks she was with over the years, but I didn’t push her away because of it, did I? I still loved her.”

“And she still loves you. She just can’t accept me. You’re her little girl. Little being the key word here.”

Rosie pulled away from me and wiped the tears from her eyes. She took a deep breath and her gaze changed from sorrow to strength, right before me.

“We’ll see how much she loves me then, won’t we? Because I’m not letting you go. If Mum really loves me, she’s going to have to love you, too.”

With that, she headed on into our living room and dropped her pretty butt down on our treasured chesterfield. She patted the seat beside her.

“I mean it, Julian. This is my home now. You are my home. And if Mum wants to come and visit us, she can do, it’s just one flight of stairs. But I’m not running back down to my old life there. I couldn’t do it, even if I wanted to. You’re way too important.”

I sat down next to her and took her hand in mine, very, very relieved at her words.

Rosie wasn’t the only one who couldn’t head back to her old life. Mine was already burned to dust for all time. There was no doubt about it. My instincts had been right all along.

If my angel Rosie turned her back on me now, I’d do nothing but rot in hell.