Page 50 of The Interview
Turning my head, I take in the broad back of my husband sleeping half on his belly, half on his side, his arms tucked under his pillow.
“Go and have a wee, then come back and tell me what’s going on in that beautiful, overthinking head of yours.”
I smile at Cam’s words, the way he knew I was awake, and my mind was already a riot. The fact he knows I’m always busting to use the toilet as soon as I open my eyes. This big, beautiful man was made to be mine, and I’ll be forever grateful that’s exactly what he is.
Leaning across, I kiss his bare shoulder, then head to our ensuite. While I’m there, I decide I may as well have a quick shower. Once that’s done, I moisturise, clean my teeth, throw on a tee—today’s choice is Joe Jackson’s “Look Sharp” album cover image—and a pair of my favourite boy leg, bamboo cotton knickers. I throw my hair up in a messy bun and return to my husband, who’s now sitting up in bed, looking at his phone.
At my entrance, he looks me up and down. “What time’s the circus arriving today?” he asks.
“Not till twelve,” I tell him as I climb back into bed. “They want to go through what they got yesterday to see what worked and what they need from today. Plus, it’s Saturday and sacred.”
Saturdays, mornings especially, are usually our reconnect days. If it’s just Cam and me, we stay in bed all morning, talk, nap, scroll our phones, watch the news, read the gossip and showbiz pages, then fuck.
If the kids come over, we usually go out for breakfast. The boys will either play golf in the afternoon or go and watch West Ham play. The girls and I will head out to the shops, maybe head over to visit my mum and dad if they’re in the country, or visit the day spa for a treatment or mani-pedi.
A knock sounds at our bedroom door. “Yo!” Cam calls out.
Harry pokes his head in. “Morning,” he calls out, entering our room with a cardboard tray of takeaway cups.
“I knew there was a reason you’re my favourite child,” I tell him with a grin.
“I heard that!” Lu shouts from somewhere just outside the door.
Kiki follows Harry, carrying my favourite Gracie Baby designed china mug, which has ‘Queen of Fucking Everything’ printed on it.
“Me, too. Shall I take this back down and force you to drink from the takeaway cup like a normal person?” she asks.
“Absolutely not, my joint favourite child,” I tell her as Harry leans in to kiss my cheek and hand me a cup.
Knowing how much I hate drinking out of them, Kiks immediately takes the cup off me, kisses my cheek, then heads into the bathroom, where, I assume, she’ll transfer my extra shot flat white into my mug.
Lu comes through the door with a tray filled with rolls, HP, and tomato sauce. George enters directly behind her, carrying side plates.
“Fuck me. What did we do to deserve this level of service?” Cam asks as he’s handed an egg and bacon roll on a plate, along with his coffee.
“Heard yesterday was a bit full on, so me and George stopped off at Full Bifta, seeing as you’ve gotta do it all again today and won’t have time to go out.”
“Aww, thank you, boys. That’s very considerate of you,” I tell them.
“It’s the way my mumma raised me,” Harry says with a wink.
“Arse licker,” Lu states.
“Tallulah,” Cam admonishes. She shrugs.
After kisses and handshakes, and the coffees and rolls are dished out, our kids pile on our super king bed, and we all eat.
“So, how’d it go?” George asks after a few minutes of silence.
“It went,” I reply. “Equal parts harrowing, emotional, funny, traumatising, revealing.”
“A lot, then?” H questions.
“Yep.”
“And it didn’t end when the cameras stopped rolling,” Lu informs the room, like more than half of us weren’t there last night.
I shoot Cam a quick glance, take a sip of my coffee, then look between each of our kids, wondering if I’m about to destroy the close and unique bond I have with each of them.
