Only Love Remains - Paul McCartney Fanfiction

Chapter 8 - Scotland

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When I woke up, it smelt, sounded and felt like home. Of course I love going to London and staying there, but Scotland was just what naturally felt homey to me. It was our own little place where we didn't have to worry about who was standing outside our gate or who would try to bombard us as soon as we went outside. We could wake up and run over to the coast and run along the waves and the sand without seeing photos of us in a magazine a day later.

Of course, Paul's arms around me definitely was the cherry on top. My face was against his warm chest which felt fuzzy from the lightly grown hair. The bottom of his beard tickled my forehead whenever he moved slightly. I knew he wasn't asleep because he wasn't snoring. I gently placed a small kiss on his chest to let him know I was up, to which he responded by catching me off guard as he pinned my hands to the bed, hovering above me while leaving kisses on my neck. We were both left giggling, making Paul have to pull away as he chuckled.

"Good morning to you too, Paul," I said.

"Did you sleep well, gorgeous?" Paul asked, moving his head down to rest on my tummy.

"Yes, quite nicely actually. What about you?" I asked.

"So much better with you," Paul said. "I'm surprised we had so much energy left last night, it was a lot of fun."

"It was, wasn't it? I missed you- Paulie!" I suddenly shrieked when he blew raspberries in my stomach.

He rolled onto his back, laughing loudly, his voice echoing throughout the house. "Oh god, I just couldn't resist. It's too funny surprising you like that," Paul said, before placing a kiss on my stomach. "It's already so much better with you."

"It's so much better with you too. You wanna go run around the farm today?" I asked.

Paul chuckled. "Alright, let's go, love."

We were in our usual farm work outfit of a sweater and pants and boots. It was never a fashion show, not when you were sticking around dirt and animal poo all day. You'd think the 'it' couple of the 60s would live a bit more glamorously, but this keeps us happy.

I walked into the bathroom and saw Paul trimming his beard carefully, giving it a bit less length. He had his chin hovered over a bowl and was close to the mirror as he carefully trimmed, clearly a perfectionist even in facial hair. When he was finally satisfied, he put down the scissors and turned around and smiled at me.

"Ta dah!" Paul sang. "What do you think of the trim."

"Well, you always look handsome, but I like it. I like you however you are," I said. "Reason?"

Paul shrugged. "Thought a trim would be nice. Do I look neater?"

I nodded. "Probably means less hair in my mouth when I try to kiss you."

"I'd say we test that out now, but I'd rather kiss you in the farm spontaneously because that would be more romantic," Paul chuckled. "Gosh, we haven't even thought about breakfast. I suppose I'm too excited to spend time with you."

"I'll make a batch of pancakes for us," I said, quickly heading to the kitchen and preparing everything. Paul followed, watching me, his eyes never leaving my face. I looked over at him and smiled a few times, before finally chuckling. "What is it, Paul?"

He flinched a bit as if he was in some kind of trance. His cheeks were a bit pink as he played with the ends of his freshly trimmed beard. "Nothing. I'm allowed to admire me wife, aren't I?" Paul giggled.

As I turned off the stove, he came up to me and placed an arm around my waist as he kissed my cheek. "Still odd to think that we're married," I said, carefully placing the pancake onto the stack as Paul held onto my waist.

"I know. Makes me feel very lucky to have married you," Paul mumbled, kissing my cheek again.

He was a very affectionate person, he craved touch and was always giving me hugs and kisses. You wouldn't expect much else from the man who seems so obsessed with his soft and romantic songs. That's exactly how I like it though, his kisses really do make me happy even if he gets a bit too clingy sometimes.

In the back of my mind however, something lingered that made me feel gross. I felt like I was committing sin just by letting him hold me like this. The happiness of the reunion only washed away my troubles temporarily, allowing them to come back even tougher. Guilt can make one go insane.

The lips he thought only he had kissed had touched someone else. There was another that looked at me the way he did. I mean, we knew that other people would be attracted to us, that's how it had been before we were together. Fame really does get you a lot of admirers. This was different though. Something actually happened, and even if it I stopped myself, it didn't make me feel any better.

Here he was, loving me and being completely honest and open to me while I hid secrets from him. I didn't even know if telling him would be any better. Even though I had those reassurances from Andy and Tim, it didn't stop me from fearing the worse, so I knew I would keep carrying this around for a while.

I tried not to seem so guilty while we ate breakfast together. Clearly, he was in a good mood and things were going the way he wanted, and I didn't want to ruin that for him. He could really be hurt from it all, and I would never want to hurt him. That would kill me.

"Y'know, this is gonna sound so pathetic, but while you were gone, I would keep a plate set up in front of me where you're sitting right now. The table was always made for two," Paul admitted. "I didn't wanna sit at an empty table. At least with the plate there, I could pretend you were home and were just doing something else. I needed that, I couldn't live completely without you in any form, that's why I would call everyday."

"You never let me go a day without hearing you tell me you love me," I said.

He swallowed his pancake and put his knife and fork down. "I was scared you thought I didn't care one bit about our marriage, I hated myself for not showing that. I really hoped you knew I cared."

"I did know, I just... I guess you could imagine how hard it all was," I said.

There was a suddenly silence as I found myself having to wipe my eyes from thinking about it. The memory of waking up everyday knowing my husband would spend the day drinking his life away did not make me feel good at all.

Paul quickly reached out to hold my hands from across the table. "I'm sorry, baby, please don't cry," he said. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry it hurt you like this."

"I don't know why I'm crying, I thought I was over it," I said, sniffing and trying to keep the tears from falling.

"I have to be honest with you, Ramona," Paul said nervously. I looked up at him, a bit scared of what he wanted to tell me. "I drank the first week you were gone. All bloody day and night, I just drank because I was so scared and went crazy. If I'm honest, I barely remember the first week. I was so boozed up..."

"What about now?" I asked.

He didn't hesitate. "Done. I swear to you, I haven't had a drop since then," Paul said. He looked down for a moment before looking up again, his lips pressed together as they trembled slightly. "I really don't wanna lose you, I can't. If I lost you... then I wouldn't have anything left."

"You ain't gonna lose me, Paulie. You'd have to kick me outta the house for that to happen, and even then, I'd have to be dragged out kicking and screaming," I said.

He smiled and went on about how much he loved and cared about me. We then of course went around the farm doing work and walking about together. I had missed this, just some simple loving time together. It all started to come together again.

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