My Wife and the Singer

"Dad, that's dumb. Mum loves you."

"Easy to say, Pudding, but I don't see it. She preferred her time with them, to me."

"That's not true. She turned them down. I was there when she spoke to that singer guy. Not long after she got home, he called her to see if she wanted to go on the Australian and European legs of the tour. She said no, Dad, because she wanted to try and save the marriage."

"He called her?"

"Yes, and she turned him down."

I guess the surprise showed. "Dad, she still loves you. It is all she ever talks about. Would it be so bad? You can't fool me, Dad, you still have those feelings for her."

"It doesn't matter about feelings, Lacey. Yes I do still have feelings for her, but, some of those feelings are hurt, resentment, anger. Some things you just can't forgive.""Dad, why not try? What is the worst thing that could happen?"

"We could kill each other."

She sneered mockingly. "You don't mean that, Dad."

"No, probably not. It's just easier if we all move on. I know she's your mum, but that doesn't make everything okay."

"Dad, I remember when we were younger. You told me how much you loved Mum, how she was the only one for you."

The divorce eventually became final and we received notification through the courts. I got home from work and found the letter in my mail box. The moment I saw the address, I knew what it was. Inside I sat at the table, turning the envelope over and over. With a deep sigh, I ripped it open. There it was: the decree nisi.

Leaving it on the table, I walked into the little kitchen and reached under the sink. My bottle of scotch sat waiting. Purchased just for this occasion, the bottle looked expectant.

Back at the table, I poured a large shot, raised my glass and said a short toast. "To freedom."

As the third shot hit the back of my throat, I heard my phone ringing. "Hello." I rasped.

"Hi, Paul, did you get the letter?"

"Yes, Ali, I'm having a celebratory drink as we speak."

"Celebration, huh?"

"Yep, we are now both free to move on."

"Paul, I tried to tell you, I don't want to move on. I want to go back."

"We both know that can't happen. Nope, the only way out is forward."

"I could come and have a drink with you?" she whispered.

"No thanks, Ali, this is my celebration. Why don't you give your friend Chisholm a ring, he might be free to help you celebrate. Sure he wouldn't pass up a night with the best fuck of his life."

The phone disconnected, and sat beeping in my hand. I cringed. it no longer felt good, hurting her now just made me bitter. Why the fuck as it so hard to move on?

I popped the top back on the bottle and went to bed early. Jesus, it was only eight thirty. Sleep didn't come easy.

Saturday found me washing the car, I saw Ali's car pull into the driveway behind m. She walked up, and without warning, leaned in and kissed me. "Morning, Paul, are you busy?"

I pointed at the car, and the bucket of hot soapy water. She nodded, "I meant after that."

"Nothing special, catch up on laundry, maybe watch the game. Why?"

She pulled out two tickets. "The game; would you like to go?"

Grabbing a ticket I stared at it covetously. "Where did you get them?"

"A friend at work organised them for me."

"Must have cost a pretty penny. Why?"

"Paul, I want you back. I want to forget about what happened. All I'm asking is for a chance to win you back. Getting that letter the other day finalised it for me. Up until then I was sitting waiting for you to walk back into my life like a knight on a big white charger. That letter woke me up. I realised you weren't coming, and if I wanted this then it was up to me. Do you want to go or not?"

I glanced down at my watch. "Shit, we would be cutting it fine?"

She laughed. "Paul, it's a seven PM kick off. It's only eleven thirty."

I sniggered. "Yeah but I have to get my nails done, my hair done, I don't have anything to wear."

She laughed loudly. "Then get your arse into gear Mr."

I threw her the wash cloth. "Then you can finish washing the car."

As I got dressed, I glanced out the window as Ali washed the car. She worked hard, the shammy absorbing the last of the water. "What the fuck are you doing, dickhead?" I asked myself.

I chucked some fresh clothes in a bag and walked out. "Shall we take my car?"

She shrugged. "Yeah, if you want."

As we headed out of town, a realisation hit me. Up till then I as whisked along by excitement, as I glanced over at Ali, I couldn't help but ask. "What are we doing Ali?"

She sat there proudly, defiantly. "I told you, all I'm asking for is a chance. I want you back. I can't go on without trying everything I can to get that."

As we drove on, I asked. "So, how have you been?"

"I have been sad. That bloody letter killed me, I know, we have been expecting it, but it came as a shock."

"That doesn't explain what we are doing here."

She smiled thinly. "We are going on a date. I'm taking you to see your beloved Highlanders play. Then we are staying overnight at the Riverlands and driving home tomorrow."

"Separate rooms I hope," I mumbled, trying to sound concerned.

She sucked in a deep breath. "It's a twin share, two beds, but I would be lying if I didn't say, I was hoping we would only require one." She grinned. "Think of the maids; we could save them a job."

"Separate beds sounds good," I replied.

We stopped along the way for an early dinner. The game was amazing, great seats at Forsyth Barre and the Highlanders kicked some Auckland Blues' arse. The perfect end to a great day. Throughout the game, Ali clapped and cheered with me. She may have thrown a bit of stick at me for supporting the Landers, but the truth is, she's as big a fan as me.

We stopped at a pub for a few drinks on the way back to the hotel. In the room, Ali took great pleasure in slipping into the sexiest negligee I had ever seen. She looked stunning and knew it.

"Well, are we going tov make the maids job easier in the morning?" She giggled.

"No, sorry, Ali, it's been a fun day, but, I'm not ready for that, in fact I may never be ready for that."

She gave me a sad pouty frown. "Oh well, I hope you change your mind."

The following Wednesday night, she turned up on my doorstep carrying a big box. "What the hell are you doing here, Ali? Jesus, you should have called."

She pushed past me, forcing her way in. She dropped the box on the bench and unpacked the containers. Sitting inside was dinner. My favourite meal, right down to the desert. She quickly made up the table, with the best crockery from home, a nice bottle of wine and of course, the food was divine.

We chatted amicably throughout. The conversation warm, glowing. Afterwards, she jumped up and cleaned everything as if it never happened.

We sat and watched some TV, she snuggled beside me, raising my arm up and placing it across her shoulder.

There was no snogging, but it was nice.

Friday night, I got a text message. "Would you like to go dancing?"

Thinking about it I replied. "Yes, by the way, who is this?"

She laughed, adding, "I'll pick you up at eight, and wear comfy shoes."

It was another fun night. It was a bit like our earlier dates when we first met, except this time, she was the aggressor, she the hunter, and I the prey. I found I liked being hunted. It was a hell of a lot better than staying home alone.

She dropped me off back at my place, she walked me to my door. She didn't wait for an invitation. She kissed me. It wasn't unexpected, I saw it coming, the fact was, I wanted it.

The moment her luscious succulent lips landed on mine, the sweet taste of the brandy she had been drinking infused the kiss with such sweet syrupy desire, it melted my first instinct. Her lips grazed mine, it was feather-light, tender and juicy. As our mouths opened and the kiss intensified, all bets were off. This was laden with yearning passionate desire. There was no denying it. We staggered back against the door, her beautiful sexy body pressed against me. Her tits squashed on my heaving chest. Her hands ruffled my hair, her tongue danced salaciously with mine. Deep wanton lust took control. As we parted, our bodies panting thirstily, she asked, "Am I getting asked to come in for the night?"

"No, Ali, you're not. Thanks for a great night though."

She was disappointed, that was apparent. "Paul, you must feel the need, just like me. God damn it, I'm fucking horny."

"So am I, but I can't just forget. I'm trying, but it is taking time."

The next day the girls turned up early, asking if we could go on a picnic. Shouldn't have been surprised when we ended up at Queens Park. When the girls were younger and we had no money, this is where we came. The days wasn't great, but Ali had the food already laid out and we shared a wonderful old fashioned family day out. I felt separating my current emotions from the hatred became easier with every passing moment.

The adage, of course, is time heals all wounds. I don't agree entirely; what time does is allow for your existing feelings to fade and new stronger ones to replace them.

Sharing time with Ali and the girls, going to their sports days, the school drama plays, which Lacey loved so much, the family dinners. Yes, the anger diminished, and the new brighter emotions pushed them into the background Ali cooked. When the little cottage I lived in was flooded, she turned up wearing gumboots and carrying cleaning supplies. She sweated all day by my side, cleaning, shovelling the putrid disgusting mud that coated everything. It was shitty work and she never quibbled once. I went back home with her and Ali cooked a fabulous meal. As I was finishing, I got up to leave. "Where the hell are you going?" she asked.

"Back to the cottage."

"Like hell," she snapped. "You can't sleep there, you're staying here."

The girls took the opportunity to reinforce those feelings. It meant I slept on the sofa, but it was dry and warm. Ali didn't put any pressure on me for anything, I guess she learned that pushing me didn't work.

I had a bad run, the flood, then I crashed the Ute on the way to work. It was one of the coldest days on record, and it was my fault, not paying attention. I skidded out of control and ended upside down in a deep ditch. Laid up in hospital, Ali turned up scared stiff and anxious. A broken leg meant I couldn't get around in the cottage. Ali and the girls dragged me back home.

Ali moved out of our bed and gave me the master suite; she slept on the sofa. She did everything for me; every time I turned around she fluffed my pillow, did my laundry. It was hard watching her work herself to a standstill, and then sleep on the damn sofa. I watched as she stretched and twisted, rubbing furiously on her lower back, trying in vain to ease the aches. I knew how that felt; the sofa, was not a comfortable thing to sleep on.

In the end, I sucked in a deep breath and said softly, "Ali, sleep in the bed. There's no need for you to sleep on that damn sofa."

"You can't sleep on it, not in your condition."

I cringed before replying. "I wasn't planning on it. We are adults; we slept together for eighteen years. I'm sure we can share it this time."

She hugged me as we watched some TV. "Thank you. I can't promise I'll be able to keep my hands to myself, though."

"We will see."

That night, she dressed in the sexiest negligee and little bra and panties sets I had ever seen. She wore some sexy new perfume that assaulted my nostrils.

I convinced myself this could work, we could act like adults, we could sleep together without having sex. Yeah right. I tried to ignore her gorgeous sexy body wriggling next to me, writhing and snuggling. I tried to manage it by rolling to the outside of the bed, but she snuggled behind me, her moist lips breathing wetly on the nape of my neck, her hands sliding over my exposed skin.

As her lips moved, nuzzling turned to kissing. I rolled towards her only to say stop, but her mouth closed over mine and all that passed before was lost. The moment exploded in a searing heart stopping passionate kiss, her lips full and juicy, her tongue wild and frenzied.

Her hand stroking my now rampant cock took my breath away. She straddled me quickly, I think mostly so I didn't change my mind.

The lovemaking was explosive, fervent, fiery, lascivious. It had been a long time, and it was over in no time. The saving grace was we were both so worked up, it was mutually satisfying.

Afterwards we lay together, recovering our breath. "Jesus, Paul, oh my god. That was amazing."

"You're not wrong. I thought you were trying to kill me."

Giggling, she whispered, "At least we would have died in each others arms, which is all I could ever ask for."

I wanted to say something mean and spiteful, but I swallowed it.

She sniggered. "What, no mean rejoinder?"

"No, sadly I didn't want to hurt you."

Her smile warmed and she squeezed me tight. "I do love you, Paul. I know I did a horrible thing, and I will always regret the harm I did. I will rue that for the rest of my life, and if you give me a chance, I will make it up to you."

"Ali, I don't know what this means. I am grateful for you helping me, and the lovemaking was incredible. But, I'm not making any promises."

She sighed. "I know that, I'm grateful for whatever I can get."

With her hand stroking my cock, she whispered, "Are you up for round two?"

"Keep doing that, and yes, I'll be up all right."

In the morning, I woke to the sounds of clanging and banging in the kitchen and the girls asking, "Where's Dad?" That was followed by some lewd giggling. The two heads poked into the bedroom, their smiles as wide as their cute faces.

They sat on the bed as Ali brought in my breakfast. "Not fair," Kaley groaned. "We don't get breakfast in bed."

Ali gave her a playful nudge and they all laughed.

So Ali and I slipped back into dating, if you can call it that. I was spending more time at home as I was at the cottage.

It was hard to push back the new feelings, the building swell of affection.

We had our moments; there were times when the memories surfaced. One night when we made love, my hand behind her neck holding her while we kissed, as my hand slid over her skin, I felt the little laser scar where she had the tattoo removed.

We went out to a local pub and a cover band playing; they were more a tribute band and played mostly Lizard songs. We didn't know that when we arrived. We got drinks and found a table. The moment the songs started, Ali stood up quickly. "Let's go, there's bound to be a band somewhere else."

"No, this will happen, we can sit it out."

She snatched at my hand. "No, I said we're leaving. Come on."

As we walked out to the car park, I grumbled. "Why is this important. We could have stayed. Do you miss it that much?"

"No, this is about us. I hope one day somewhere in the future, we could do that, but not now, not yet. I couldn't sit there watching you grimacing, pushing back nasty retorts. I love you, I love that you have been able to forgive, but I also know, you haven't forgotten."

It wasn't just Ali, the attraction was too strong, and not just between her and I. The girls loved having me around, just as much as I loved being around them. Things had been just as hard for them. They had been as deeply scarred as I had by the whole mess. I sensed that when I was there at home, they were better. They needed my support, as well.

The whole thing moved so quickly, it freaked me out. One minute I was celebrating my divorce, and the next we were carrying on like horny teenagers.

I needed some time alone to regroup. It was hard walking away from the girls, but I needed a clear head, I just hoped they could forgive me, as easily as they had their Mother.

I stopped going around and spending time with Ali, and the girls. The tension built quickly. Ali called every day, but I had a never ending supply of excuses.

I needed that time by myself. Ali hated it, and so did the girls. They let me know, how they felt, but at least the girls showed me some patience. I think they were scared of pushing things and causing a terminal crash.

I was unsure, confused. I did miss her, recent events proved how much I missed my family.

The weeks clicked by, I had time to think, but rather than clearing my head, it actually muddied the waters, and I was more confused than ever.

It was a few weeks later at the cottage, relaxing with a cold beer, I heard the knock on the door. Opening it, I was stunned to see Ali standing there. "Is something wrong?" I asked hesitantly.

She snorted. "Are you going to invite me in?"

"No, not unless you tell me why you're here."

She pushed past me, barging in. I turned and closed the door. "What do you want, Ali?"

"I wanted to ask whether you coming home? We want you back. Surely you can see as clearly as I do, that we need you. We can't be a family without you."

"Why?"

"Because, we should still be together. Paul, I love you. I'm sorry the whole thing got so out of control. I'm sorry I hurt you."

She stared at me intently. "I'm sorry it ever happened. If I could take it back I would. I would trade one night with you for a year with Rob."

She walked into my arms and her mouth crashed into mine. Our bodies meshed and it felt natural, right, like coming home. Her hot succulent body melded to mine, her radiant searing heat, inviting, overwhelming.

My heart pounded, my palms became clammy. Her breath, wet, hot, little trickles of condensation dribbling down my neck where her vapours cooled on my skin.

Our arms held tight as our bodies united.

When my lease was up on the cottage, I didn't renew it. Married, divorced, and now living together. People said I was crazy, and I probably am, but I learned that it takes more courage to forgive than it does to walk away.

Watching Ali empowered me. She pushed past the hatred and vitriol. She never let the nasty comments get to her. She held her head high through the whole debacle. I wish I had her strength.

I learned that holding a grudge isn't showing strength. I learned forgiveness is strength. If you love something so strongly, then you can forgive, that is real love, real strength.

Hating is easy, any arsehole can do that.