How I managed to maintain my composure and professional demeanour throughout the entirety of that afternoon remains an enigma to me. Millie, with her piercing gaze and fuck me eyes, seemed intent on testing the limits of my self-control, fixating on both me and my tattoos with unwavering attention. The atmosphere in her office, saturated with the overpowering scent of her fucking perfume, left me breathless, prompting the desperate removal of my tie and the unbuttoning of my shirt.
I couldn't fucking breathe.
It became abundantly clear that Millie's lunchtime indulgence in a few glasses of wine had ignited a desire that she struggled to conceal. I am pretty sure she wanted to climb on my dick as much as I wanted her too. The tension in the air was thick, and it became increasingly difficult to ignore the seductive undertones in her glances. Every time Millie contemplated a thought, she'd put her pen in mouth. Letting the tip run across her lips. Let's just say she fucking knew what she was doing, we were both wanting that to be my cock. Try adjusting yourself without anyone noticing, it's fucking hard. LITERALLY.
With the clock ticking towards 4, my escape plan to meet Louise felt like a well-timed salvation. As I left Millie's office behind, the weight lifted, and I could finally breathe fresh air. Thee unexpected revelation that Millie had chosen a present for Gabby, my goddaughter, caught me off guard. While appreciating the thoughtful gesture, I couldn't resist the temptation to peek inside the bag. Of course it was bloody wrapped.
Among the items were one that felt like a teddy and others that seemed to be plastic balls. I shared my discovery with Louise, and her wealth of experience as a grandmother led her to speculate that the mysterious plastic balls might be "LOL dolls" – a term unfamiliar to me but apparently known in grandparent circles.
Later, as Louise and I navigated the hustle and bustle of Hamleys, I found myself trailing behind in utter bewilderment. Louise, energetically filling the basket with an assortment of items. I stood there, card in hand, prepared to play the role of the carefree spender when the time came to settle the bill. It was a stark reminder of the clear distinction between the family-oriented and the financially carefree in our dynamic duo.
Half an hour later, Louise and I emerge from Hamleys, accompanied by a helpful assistant lugging two large gift bags containing £380 worth of wrapped teddy bears and toys. The assistant deposits the bags into the trunk of my Bentley, and in appreciation of his efforts, I slip him a £50 tip. The helper, no older than 20 or 21, clearly pleased by my generosity, scampers off with an ear-to-ear grin. As we settle into the car, we set course for Cromwell. Louise turns to me with an approving smile, "That was a very lovely thing to do for that young boy. Bet that tip has made his week, let alone his day. I can't imagine a lot of people tip them." She affectionately pats my leg, and I reciprocate with a smile, shaking my head modestly. "Just paying it forward."
Upon our arrival at the hospital, Malcolm assists Louise out of the car, and I follow suit on the other side. Retrieving the bags from the boot, Malcolm offers to carry them for me, but I politely decline, instructing him to return at 7:30 when visiting hours finish.
Louise, holding the gift she selected for Gabby and Millie's contribution, gracefully makes her way inside. I had taken the time to write a 'get well soon' card, promising Gabby a day of fun once she's out of the hospital, fully recovered, and when SJ and John give the green light. My affection for Gabby runs deep. When John and SJ announced they were expecting a girl, I admit I initially felt a bit of disappointment, secretly hoping for a boy to share in the joys of football and mischief.
Yet, the moment I met Gabriella, a mere two hours after her birth, my heart was stolen. She was, without a doubt, the tiniest and most precious human I had ever laid eyes on.
I made a solemn vow to SJ and John that no man would ever be deemed good enough for her, turning it into a mission for all prospective love interests to earn my approval. Gabby often stays over at my place during John and SJ's gigs, work dinners, or events. We revel in the moments spent together, with Gabby having her own room covered in Moana, Encanto, and Frozen memorabilia.
As she adorably sings along to every song in her unique language (since she doesn't quite know all the words yet). Louise, equally shares a love for Gabby. The same love she has with her own grandchildren, consistently finds reasons to spend entire days at her side whenever Gabby graces my home with her presence.
Ascending to the children's ward, Lo and I are guided through the labyrinthine of corridors, eventually finding ourselves in the family rooms. John secured a separate family room for Gabby so that SJ and he could be with her around the clock.
At present, their family consists of only the one child, but given Gabby's lively spirit, it's not hard to imagine her petitioning for siblings in the not-so-distant future. I've always pictured John surrounded by a brood of 3 or 4 kids—perhaps some boys in the mix soon.
Louise, with her warmth, gently taps on Room 17 and opens the door to reveal SJ and John flanking either side of the bed, all engrossed in the Moana on the TV. The trio's attention shifts toward the doorway when Gabby, with infectious enthusiasm, cheers, "Nanny Looloo!" Her tiny hands clap in delight. Eager to join the family reunion, I slide into the room, and a radiant grin overtakes Gabby's adorable face.
"Uncle Danny, Uncle Danny!" she exclaims, attempting to climb out of bed. John and SJ, mindful of the tiny drip attached to her right hand, gently hold her back. Louise, seizing the opportunity for a tender moment, gives Gabby a loving hug, showering her with kisses. "You gave us a fright. Don't do that to Nanny Looloo again," she advises, placing a final kiss on Gabby's forehead.
Louise then turns her attention to SJ, squeezing her tightly and inquiring about her well-being. Meanwhile, my eyes lock onto Gabby, and with a theatrical flair, I raise the two gift bags, teasingly questioning, "Well... what do I have here? I wonder who these could possibly be for?" Glancing around, I witness Gabby's left hand shooting up in excitement. "They are for me, Uncle Danny, me, me, me!!!" she declares.
I drop the bags and perch on the edge of the bed as Gabby crawls into my lap. Wrapping my arms around her, I plant a tender kiss on the top of her head, grateful for these moments of joy amid the shit hospital surroundings.
John grips my shoulders and gives them a gentle nudge, his gratitude evident as he gestures towards the array of presents surrounding Gabby's hospital bed. "You didn't need to do all of this, mate," he remarks appreciatively.
I turn my head, pointing with my left arm towards Gabby. "I am her Godfather, John. It's not up for debate mate." I assert with a sense of unwavering commitment.
Gabby looks up at me with her innocent baby brown eyes, questioning, "Are all these presents really for me?" I nod in agreement, and Louise, ever the caring soul, asks her which bag she'd like to start with. SJ, with a mix of surprise and appreciation, interjects, "Daniel... Louise, you didn't need to do this. You are too kind," her hand gently rubbing my left hand in gratitude.
While SJ and I may not always see eye to eye on certain matters, like late nights out where John doesn't get back in until 4pm the next day, extended lads holidays which went from 3 nights to 9 days, or demanding work deadlines which keep us in the office for 15 hours non-stop, she acknowledges my deep love for her daughter. And in that, we find common ground.
"Yes, they are. What bag do you want first?" Gabby points to the sparkling pink bag from Millie, and my body tenses at the mere thought of her. Passing the bag to Gabby, Louise informs John, "This one is from one of your staff members, John—Millie." Gabby eagerly begins to rummage inside, pulling out a card, which she hands to SJ. As she continues to explore the bag's contents, SJ reads the card aloud.
To Gabby,
Get Well Soon!
With the warmest of wishes
This card comes to say
I hope you'll feel better
Through each passing day!
Can't wait to officially meet you!
Lots of love, Millie xxx
(the cool girl your dad works with)
John and SJ express appreciation for Millie's thoughtful gesture. Gabby, meanwhile, clutches a fluffy hippo toy with 'Gabby' knitted on its left foot.
"He is so fluffy, I love him," she exclaims. Pouring the rest of the bag onto the bed, she discovers four plastic balls, ecstatically shouting, "LOL SURPRISE, LOL SURPRISE!" and breaking into a dance on the bed.
SJ and Louise join in to help Gabby unwrap each gift. The appreciation for each being louder than the last. Her reactions make my cold heart a tad warmer.
John, sensing a moment, nods towards the hallway, and I follow him outside. Once in the hallway, he yanks me in an unnecessary embrace, squeezing me tightly, as if trying to contain his emotions. Leaning back, I meet John's gaze as he blinks rapidly, and a single tear escapes from his left eye. Concerned, I grab both of his shoulders and gently shake him. "Wooooh woooh wooooh, what's going on, Johnny?" I revert to the nickname from our simpler days.
"Sorry, mate... I just..." John lets out a long, heavy sigh, his shoulders dropping. "These past 18 hours have been really fucking mental, and I haven't wanted to get upset in front of Gabby or SJ..." he confesses.
I guide us to a couple of seats in the hallway, feeling a familiar discomfort in the sterile atmosphere of the hospital. Hospitals have never been my favourite places, a sentiment rooted in my own past misdemeanours that kept me confined within their walls during my younger years. As we settle, I place my left hand on John's knee, offering a comforting pat. "You're a great dad, Johnny. Much better than the ones we had. You got Gabby here quicker than anything, and they've said she'll be home by the weekend,"
I reassure him. Johnny wipes his face with both hands, letting out a gruff sound. "Let's get a coffee, mate. I am fucking knackered. I haven't slept yet in what feels like years."
He stands, arms raised for another embrace, a rare display of emotion. I reciprocate, recognising that our usual dynamic—focused solely on work—needs to change.
Johnny, my oldest friend, seems to need my support more than I've realised. We head downstairs to Costa, grabbing a baby Hot Chocolate for Gabby, a Coconut Latte for SJ, an Earl Grey for Louise, a Flat White for me, and two large Black Coffees for John—evidence of his exhaustion. As we make our way back to Gabby's room, he probes, "How was today with Millie? Make a dent in the contract?"
John sips his heavily sugared coffee. "Yeah, not bad, mate. We've made our way through three-quarters of it," I respond, tactfully omitting the awkward details of Millie's tipsy lunch where she persistently showered me with suggestive looks all afternoon. I also choose not to mention that her perfume drives me up the fucking wall.
"I'm glad. She's a good worker. I knew she would be right for this deal. Be nice to her, Dan. She's a good employee," John advises, taking another sip. I choke on my flat white, I open the door to Gabby's room, where she has peacefully drifted into sleep in the midst of her presents, snuggled up to the fluffy hippo Millie gifted her.
Louise and SJ graciously accept their drinks, offering us appreciative whispers of gratitude. John and I join them on the sofa, all of us captivated by the sight of Gabby surrounded by her multitude of presents.
"Thank you so much, Daniel. You really do spoil our girl. She's so lucky to have you as her Godfather," SJ smiles, her hand intertwined with John's, who nods in agreement.
I, not one to handle compliments with ease, tip my drink towards them in a salute and finish the cup. Louise, sensing my discomfort, skilfully steers the conversation towards SJ and her work. I don't take compliments well.
As the conversation gradually winds down towards the end of visiting hours, I pass Louise her jacket, making my way over to Gabby. Gently placing a kiss on her forehead, I pull up her sheet, covering her and the fluffy hippo. Louise hugs John, declaring that if he needs anything, both she and I are readily available. I embrace SJ, who expresses her gratitude for being a great friend to John. Walking over to John, he jerks into me before I can speak,
"Thanks again, mate. Really going to need you over the next few weeks while everything with Gabb—" I interrupt him mid-speech, "Whatever you need, mate. Don't worry about your office, your staff, or this deal. I've got everything under control. Always here for you, Johnny." John smiles at the nickname and hugs me again, "Thanks, Danno," he laughs, "Fuck, I haven't heard that in years." We both wrap our arms around each other, squeezing each other tighter than we have in a long time.
Malcolm waits for us outside the hospital. I open the car door for Louise, and we drive home in silence. Dropping Lo off first, she hugs me in the car and whispers in my ear, "You're a good boy, Dan. It was lovely to see you and John like that... just being yourselves. I haven't heard either of you call each other those nicknames in years, Daniel. See you tomorrow, my dear," she says, placing a kiss on my cheek as she exits the car. Malcolm drops me off at home.
Entering my house, I head straight to the kitchen and pour myself a glass of whiskey. As I take my first sip, my thoughts are consumed by the only thing that has occupied my mind for the past week: Millie. Did Millie and I have a moment today? Why doesn't she hate me? I was terrible to her. Why am I even thinking of her? Downing the glass in one, I leave the glass in the sink and take the bottle to bed. On my way up the stairs, my phone vibrates.
JohnWORKPHONE 8:13pm: Thanks for this evening. Gabby loves everything you've got her (even though it was far too much). You're a good mate, Danno. Can't wait till you have kids to experience the emotional fucking rollercoaster I've been having these past few fucking days. Speak tomorrow.
[ATTACHED PHOTO]
Opening the photo, I see Gabby peacefully asleep in the hospital bed, surrounded by her teddies. John holds a crayon drawing of two stick people with 'Gabby' and 'Uncle Danny' underneath, along with the sentence (spelled awfully wrong) 'I luve Unkle Dannnie.'
I save the photo and re-read John's text, appreciating the sentiment.
Pouring myself another whiskey, I find solace in revisiting the collection of photos that Johnny has sent me over time. Among the snapshots of us at various work conferences, the majority capture the heart-warming essence of John, SJ, and Gabby. Their family portrait, frozen in those images, paints a picture of what I often envision as 'The Perfect Family.' John's love for SJ, a connection that began at the young age of 20, reflects the kind of companionship one can only describe as a soulmate. SJ, in turn, complements John in a way that transcends the ordinary, making them each other's undeniable halves.
I ponder the concept of having a soulmate myself, questioning the identity of this elusive counterpart. The pursuit of finding 'my other half' seems akin to chasing a fantastical dream. It brings to mind an ancient Greek philosophical theory I encountered at the age of 18:
"Humans once had four arms, four legs, and two faces. But fearing their power, Zeus split us into two separate parts, condemning us to spend the rest of our lives searching for our other halves."
The notion of a soulmate can feel like a seductive lie, especially for individuals grappling with demanding work schedules – in my case, an unsociable 70-hour workweek. The promise that there is 'one true match' out there, capable of miraculously enhancing every aspect of life, seems absurd when articulated so plainly.
While the idea of having a soulmate is appealing, the pragmatic reality questions how, out of the millions and billions of people on Earth, there could only be ONE true match. Some of my colleagues and friends have experienced multiple marriages, prompting the inevitable question: which one was their true soulmate? It raises scepticism about the universal applicability of such a concept. Mark thought his psycho ex-wife was his 'soulmate' and look how that shit show turned out.
Yet, in the midst of these reflections, I can't help but acknowledge the tangible evidence of soulmates that exists by purely looking at John and SJ as my evidence.
Their enduring connection serves as a testament to the possibility that, for some, the concept of a soulmate is not a mere illusion. It's a shared journey through the ups and downs of life, navigating the complexities of work and personal pursuits together.
In the midst of the chaos, the undeniable bond between John and SJ stands as a living testament to the profound connection that some are fortunate enough to discover in a lifetime. Do I have a soulmate? Was it Sophia? Course it couldn't have been, I pushed her into the arms of her true soulmate.
Maybe I don't have one?
Fuck, I am getting to deep into this. I finish my third or fourth glass of whiskey and force myself to go to bed. Could Mill...
NOPE.
Fucking BEDTIME.
YOU ARE READING
Questionable Morals and Breached Contracts
RomanceAt 27, Millie Grayson finds herself in a rut, living with her parents, stuck in a poorly compensated job, and romantically dormant for four years. Her life takes an unexpected turn when she encounters Daniel Mattlesworth, a man who challenges her co...
