Maggie's Five ...the first in a LOVE story (2 page)

“
Then
juice it is.”

“
Can
I have one too Mummy?” Ella begs from her perch next to her sister.
“It’s sooo hot outside.”

“
Two
of my finest juices, for two of my favourite people, coming right
up,” I say with a flourish, scooping a couple of glasses out from a
top cupboard.

“
Don’t forget about me Mummy, I’m all hot and bothered too.”
Brendan gives me his sexy face, playfully squatting between the
girls and pressing their cheeks to his. “Quick girls, sad puppy dog
faces.”

Placing four
glasses on the bench, I watch them transform into pouting lips and
wide, brown pleading eyes. They got lucky, my girls, they both got
their daddy’s big dark chocolate orbs, Mattie with tiny flecks of
green from mine.

“
I
think I could use a drink myself,” I say, shaking my head and laugh
at the shameless display to win me over. It works. “Who would like
some watermelon to go with it?”

My offer fails
dismally. Brendan looks to the girls and gets them to up the
pouting a notch or two.

“
Okay, fine. Who would like an icy-pole?” Squealing cheers
fill the kitchen. “I’ll take that as a yes all round
then.”

Brendan and I
look to each other and bust out laughing.

“
Who
loves Christmas?” Brendan yells over the top of the girls, to
ignite a chorus of really bad singing and bootie shakes. Smiling
broadly, he places his hands on my hips as we dance, looking like
he just won the lottery.

When it’s me who
is the real winner.

BRENDAN’S BEEN
OUTSIDE for the past two hours putting together the Ginger Bread
House we’ve bought the girls from Santa. The man at the store
guaranteed us that it wouldn’t take any longer than an hour tops to
assemble, and that’s if we took our time to construct the thing
that’s currently reverting my husband’s vocabulary to high school
standards.

As I slowly
meander over to him, I feel my head begin to tilt to the right,
taking in his handy work. Hmm, I don’t remember the display model
having a lean at the store.

“
How’s it going?” I ask sheepishly and casually pick the
instructions up off the ground.

“
This
fu-… this thing is BS. The instructions are completely wrong,”
Brendan barks as quietly as he can manage, making it almost sound
like it’s my fault. We’ve been together a long time, so it’s fine.
I know he’s frustrated and not really blaming me.

He had better
not be blaming me.

Holding the
pages out in front of me, I turn the sheets from side to side,
inspecting the basic stick figure diagram like I have a clue, which
I don’t. I sigh, offer an um and an ah, and even go so far as to
scratch my head a few times, when something catches my eye. I lower
the plans to my thighs and take another more serious look at the
four walls in front of me. I hold the designs up and turn them like
I turn the street directory, then lower them again.

Oh dear. I think
I know where Brendan’s gone wrong, but what to do about it? Go all
1960’s house wife and pretend I don’t see anything amiss and praise
my cigar wielding, smoking jacket wearing man, or square my
shoulders, become the modern woman I like to think I am and
emasculate the caveman and tell him straight?

Yeeaahh that’s a
no-brainer - tell him straight.

“
Brendan. Honey? I’m just wondering if the wall there,”
pointing to the right side of the lean to, “is actually the back
section?” My head tilts again and I add a puzzled expression for
good measure.

“
Don’t be ridiculous,” he starts and steps away from his handy
work, then cups the back of his head in disbelief. “No way. Are you
serious?”

“
Well
it does look kind of… skew-whiff, you know,” I offer helpfully, my
hands splayed, trying to straighten out the imperfection with my
imaginary super power of Auto Correcto.

It doesn’t
work.

Brendan stomps
over and snatches the papers, gives them a crisp snap like Grandpa
used to when the newspapers were supersized and mumbles
incoherently under his breath. His shoulders visibly sag and he
lowers the instructions, realising his mistake.

“
No
way,” he sighs, letting the papers fall and pulls me to him,
burying his face into the space between my neck and shoulder. “Do
you have any idea how long it’s taken me to get this thing
up?”

Yep. Folding my
arms around my husband’s firm waist, I inhale him and release a
sympathetic sigh with my exhale.

“
I’m
sorry, Babe.” I am sorry for him, as much as I really, really want
to laugh right now. “I’m guessing it’s taken a little longer than
an hour?” I suck at pretending and I’m struggling to hide my
laughter. I know how long he’s been out here and how frustrated he
is. And how hilarious the Gingerbread House looks.

“
Are
you laughing at me?” Brendan asks in disbelief, pulling away
slightly so he can see my face better. “Oh my God, you are. This
isn’t funny, Mags.”

“
I
know,” I reply overly dramatically and slide my hands up his chest
and to the sides of his face. “Come on, I’ll help.”

“
Damn
straight you’re going to help me.” Taking me by surprise, he hoists
me over his shoulder. “Hey, did you know that if we open this
timber panel right here,” he says, pushing the sticking door to the
cubby firmly and bending so he can carry me through, “it closes
again,” giving it a second shove to encourage it to stay put,
“leaving us on the inside?”

Brendan’s tone
deepens as he brings me around to his front and lowers us to our
knees, making sure to keep my body firmly pressed up against his.
“The girls sleeping?” he murmurs running his nose along
mine.

God the man’s
insatiable when he’s on holiday. Fine, if I have to put up with
him, then it’s a cross I’ll just have to bear.

“
Checked them a few minutes ago, both out cold”

Brendan’s mouth
is on mine before I get to the end of the sentence.

Of course I kiss
him back. I love the feel of his tongue against mine, his warm
breath fluttering over my cheeks. He leans me backwards and rests a
hand on the ground to help take most of his weight, then shifts
slightly and kisses me deeper, causing the familiar stirring in my
stomach and a swelling between my legs. I’ll never get enough of
this man; in my entire life, I know, I will never get
enough.

“
Here,” Brendan says in his
let’s have sex
voice,
reaching behind me to pick up something off the ground with the
hand that was tangled in my hair.

He drops me,
flat at the same time I turn to see what he’s holding. “What the
hell?”

“
It’s
called a ratchet, smartarse. You can get to work on undoing those
bolts over there.” Pointing to the corner of the wrongly placed
walls, he stands and heads out the way we came, leaving me staring
in confusion at the alien creature in my hand.

What on earth
does a ratchet do?

Within the hour
we finally have the Ginger Bread House standing tall in all its
artificial, sugary perfection. Brendan’s on the inside fixing the
last of the cupboards into place to the wooden flooring, while I
admire our lean free creation. I must admit, I’m excited about
waking up in a few hours to hear the girls screaming in delight
when they notice it outside their bedroom windows. God I love
Christmas.

“
Hey
Mags, can you come here a minute please?” Brendan calls in a hushed
voice.

Opening the
smoothly swinging door, I find him sitting on the small expanse of
floor, legs out stretched and crossed at the ankles. I raise my
eyebrows in question, taking in the room. Cupcake curtains on the
windows, candy canes for legs on the table, coloured liquorice and
lollies frame the doorway. Artificial icing sugar piping as far as
the eye can see. It’s sweet and girly and perfect.

“
Come
sit with me a minute, Love.”

Ooh, Brendan’s
using his
sexy time
voice. Of course I sit. Hell I’d engage
bionic speed if I could to get to him faster. Trust me, you’d sit
too. Hell, Carly from next door would be lying spread eagle
already.

I lean back
against the wall and sit close our sides brushing every time one of
us moves. When I’m settled, he smiles at me, threads our fingers
and kisses my palm before resting our hands in his lap.

“
What
time is it?” He sounds content; the satisfied hunter admiring his
prey, as he draws over the back of my hand with the pad of his
thumb.

“
Oh,
I guess around two
ish
. Why, tired?” I’m trying to be cute,
but when I’m up against one of the three experts of cute in my
family, I tend to fall short.

Brendan cups my
face in his large hands and presses a soft full mouth kiss on my
lips. No invading tongues, no attacking lustful moves, just pure
unadulterated, honest to goodness, love. And it’s absolutely
beautiful. “Merry Christmas, my beautiful wife.”

“
Merry Christmas, husband,” I murmur, not ready to lose the
feel of him.

“
I
have something for you.” Pressing one last kiss, he straightens out
one of his legs and awkwardly slides his hand into a front pocket
of his shorts. “I wanted…” he pauses to gather his thoughts.
“…We’ve been married, what, eight years?” He’s pretending to not
remember, when we know full well that I’m the one who usually
forgets our wedding anniversary.

“
Yes
smarty, I am aware of the number of years,” I say, turning my head
to mumble, “it’s the actual date I have a problem
remembering.”

“
Finally, she admits it.” Chuckling, he presses a kiss to the
inside of my wrist.

“
No,
I don’t,” I lie, laughing with him.

Sobering,
Brendan continues almost shyly, “I love you more than life Maggie,
you know that right?”

“
Not
nearly as much as I love you.”

“
I
know Love, you show me every day.”

He presses his
lips to mine softly. “We were so young when we got together, and
didn’t have much money when I asked you to marry me, so your ring
ended up being -”

“
Perfect.” I cut him off before he can offend my favourite
piece of jewellery. I don’t care about the size of the diamond. He
chose it and gave it to me when he proposed. That’s all that
matters.

“
Small,” he finishes, cocking a brow with a lopsided smirk,
daring me to argue the obvious.

I open my mouth
to protest, to tell him that I don’t care what it looks like, that
it’s perfect for me, when he places a finger over my mouth to
silence me.

“
I
love you Maggie, that’s never going to change, but we’re a little
better off now and I wanted to finally give you the ring that you
deserve.” He shifts onto a bent knee. “I’d ask you to marry me
every day of my life if it meant keeping you forever,” he says,
opening the small blue box in his hand and holds it out for me, “So
marry me every day for the rest of my life if you need to, because
I’m keeping you forever, Maggie. You make me the happiest, luckiest
man on the planet, my wife, and I love you so fucking much it
hurts.”

It’s not often
that I’m left speechless, and that’s probably the sole reason
Brendan’s dropped this bombshell on me, just to shut me up; but
when I’m finally able to tear my watery eyes from his, I see the
biggest diamond I have ever seen outside of a magazine. It’s huge
and beautiful. And way too much.

“
Brendan,” I gasp, but he cuts my protest off with a searing
passionate kiss.

“
I
love you Mags, please don’t spoil this for me,” he begs, kissing me
deeper and as desperately as I kiss him.

“
I
would marry you every day of every year of my life to show you how
much I love you Brendan.” I lower myself over him so I can feel as
much as of his muscular body as possible.

“
Oh,
shit. Mags, I just dropped the bloody ring.” Brendan yells, pushing
me off and frantically patting the ground. I instantly pull out my
mobile phone, turn the small torch on and swing about
wildly.

“
How
could you drop it?” I shriek, like he did it on purpose,

“
Will
you stop swinging that - just… give it here,” he growls, snatching
the phone in frustration, “Search Mags, don’t just sit
there.”

“
No
need to yell,” I mumble under my breath, not quietly enough
according to the glare I receive. It’s not like it could have gone
that far. “Okay, okay. I’m looking,” I say, rolling my eyes I press
my palms to the ground. “Huh, this it?” I ask, surprised and a
whole lot smug.

“
Thank God, please… just put it on and promise to never take
it off.”

Slipping my new
diamond onto the ring finger of my right hand, I ask, but it’s not
a question, “That much, huh?”

No matter how
spectacular my new ring is, it’s not going to take the place of the
engagement ring Brendan proposed to me with.

“
That
much.” Sagging with relief, he rests his hands onto his thighs,
taking a deep calming breath. Looking a little sheepish, he then
asks, “So, how’s it look?” - knowing full well that it’s beyond
imagination.