Clara in America (Clara Andrews Series - Book 7) Read online

  ‘Shopping!’ Madison yells, running to the door and pressing her nose against the glass. ‘Mummy forgot to get Noah a birthday present!’

  ‘No I didn’t.’ Gina’s cheeks turn pink as she shakes her head at Madison.

  ‘Yes you did!’ She insists, folding her little arms adamantly. ‘You said that you didn’t have…’

  ‘Alright!’ Gina cuts her off and laughs nervously before pulling open the door and pushing Madison outside. ‘Well, we better get going. I’ll text you later.’

  ‘Bye!’ I yell after them as the lift doors finally ping open. ‘Have fun!’

  Taking hold of my new purchases, I step inside and jab at the buttons with my elbow. My dinosaur peeks out at me and I run a finger over his spikes and smile. I don’t care what Madison and Gina say, I think he’s super cute. The lift starts to move upwards and I look down at my battered old Converse dubiously. I really should invest in a new pair of these. For the past few months I don’t think I have worn anything else. It turns out that mummy duties aren’t as easy to tackle in a pair of stilettoes, much to my disappointment. Steadying myself as we come to a swift stop, I step forward as the doors swing open.

  My stomach grumbles as I pad along the corridor and I find myself regretting my decision to not get pizza. Struggling with my many bags, I rap on the door with my foot. Hearing a cheer erupt from inside, I press my ear against the wall in confusion. Football? You have got to be kidding me! With my keys being buried beneath a mass of lipsticks in the bottom of my handbag, I knock louder and waggle the handle. Finally, the noise inside comes to sudden stop before Oliver opens the door.

  ‘Hey!’

  Even after all these years, his deep American drawl makes my stomach flip like crazy. Reaching out to take my bags, he steps aside and motions for me to come in.

  ‘How was it?’ I ask, kicking off my shoes and peeling my wet jacket away from my damp body.

  ‘It was incredible!’ His face lights up as he throws himself onto the couch, his dark floppy hair falling into his eyes. ‘Henderson scored in the first four minutes and White missed a sitter in injury time!’

  ‘Not the bloody football!’ I shoot him a frown and shake my head as I flick on the coffee maker. ‘I meant the visit to my parents!’

  ‘Oh…’ Oliver takes off his baseball cap and tosses it onto the dining table. ‘Yeah, that was… that was good too.’

  I roll my eyes and take my favourite mug from the cabinet. Men! ‘Where’s Noah?’

  ‘He’s in the playroom with MJ.’ He stretches his arms out above his head and rolls his neck. ‘They’re watching a movie.’

  Pointing to the video baby monitor on the window ledge, Oliver reaches over and passes me the handset. This gadget is one of the best baby gifts I’ve ever received. When my mother presented this to me, I thought it would be stashed under the bed along with the rest of the baby paraphernalia that gets forgotten about, but it really is one of my favourite things ever. Looking down at the screen, I let out a silent squeal and run my fingers over the picture. There he is, my gorgeous baby boy. Handing it back to Oliver, I let out a yawn and wander across the kitchen. Popping my head around the playroom door, I smile as I see two tiny faces glued to the television.

  ‘What are you boys watching?’ I ask, curling up on the floor next to Noah and planting a kiss on his dark hair.

  ‘Minions!’ MJ whispers, wiggling his little toes excitedly and pointing at the screen.

  ‘Again?’ I let out a laugh as a minion sashays around in a grass skirt and the pair of them burst into hysterics.

  Unlike his big sister Madison, MJ is the quietest of Gina’s three children. It’s safe to say that he definitely takes after his father. Apart from having Gina’s ridiculously full pout, Marc Junior is most certainly all Marc.

  ‘Do you boys want a snack?’ They shake their heads in unison, keeping their eyes firmly fixed to the screen.

  Who knew that a simple DVD player possessed such captivating powers? Deciding to leave them to it, I push myself to my feet and make my way back into the living room.

  ‘How long have they been in there?’ I ask Oliver, who is grabbing a takeout menu from the coffee table.

  ‘I dunno, around an hour.’ He sighs and beckons me over to the couch.

  Noticing that he has made me a cup of coffee, I hide Noah’s birthday presents in a kitchen cabinet before collapsing into a heap next to him. Allowing him to pull me into his arms, I rest my head on his chest and listen to the rain pound against the windows. So much for maintaining my golden glow. It looks like I will be digging my St. Tropez out again. Snuggling into Oliver’s neck, I run my fingers through his hair and fight against the urge to drift into a well needed sleep.

  ‘So, what did you get for the little guy’s birthday?’ Oliver asks, running his fingers along my spine. ‘In fact, don’t tell me. Let me guess. A football? A truck? One of those little bike things that MJ has?’

  Shaking my head in response, I drape my legs over his and allow myself a delicious stretch. ‘I got him a dinosaur.’

  ‘A what?’ He lets out a low laugh and brushes my hair out of my face.

  ‘A dinosaur.’ I repeat confidently, not wanting to get into another disagreement over the poor dino. ‘Amongst other things, obviously.’

  Oliver frowns and shoots me a puzzled look. ‘Why a dinosaur? When has Noah ever shown an interest in dinosaurs?’

  ‘I think you will find that he is in there laughing at a dinosaur right now.’

  Minions and dinosaurs are practically the same thing, right? Feeling rather protective over my Tyrannosaurus, I roll onto my side and stick my tongue out at him.

  ‘Can you believe he will be two years old tomorrow?’ Flicking through the television channels, he smiles as laughter floats out of the playroom. ‘How did that happen?’

  ‘Mmm...’ I mumble, allowing my eyes to close for a moment.

  I know all parents say that time flies when your babies are young, but it honestly feels like only yesterday we saw that little blue line that changed our lives forever. When I first met Oliver, I never would have believed that he would be the man I would go on to marry. The man that would give me my children and make me his wife. Let’s face it, hot, rich American designers never fall in love with women like me. The clumsy girl next door who carries a few extra pounds and has hair to rival Curly Sue. Sometimes I sit back and think about just how fortunate I am. My best friend might be living the dream in the Caribbean with a hunky Bajan man, but there’s honestly nowhere in the world that I would rather be than right here with my two boys. Forcing myself to sit up before I drift off, I let out a yawn and reach for my coffee.

  ‘I need to wrap Noah’s presents.’ I sigh, snatching the remote from Oliver as he attempts to put on yet another football match.

  Ignoring his protests, I flick through the channels until my eyes land on One Born Every Minute. Almost immediately an ear piercing scream spills out of the speakers and I hide my smile behind my mug. There’s no quicker way to get the living room to myself than to subject my hubby to the sound of a complete stranger in the throes of labour. Letting out a groan, Oliver rolls off the couch and exhales loudly.

  ‘I’ll do it.’ He grumbles, trying not to look at the television screen.

  ‘Awwh! Would you really?’ Flashing him a smile, I discreetly up the volume. ‘Look at that! She’s crowning!’

  ‘Jeez, Clara!’ Shooting me daggers, he sticks his fingers in his ears to drown out the poor woman’s screams. ‘Where’s the goddam wrapping paper?’

  Pointing to the kitchen cabinet, I let out a giggle and stretch out my legs. Works every time…

  Birthdays are nature’s way of telling

  us to eat more cake…

  Chapter 2

  ‘Happy birthday, Noah Ernest Morgan!’ Climbing into his cosy bed, I plant a kiss on his warm cheek and pull the covers up to our chins.

  Squeezing his eyes tightly shut, he rubs his face and snuggles into the pi
llow like a sleepy puppy. It seems that the birthday boy isn’t quite ready to join the world of the living just yet. Deciding to let him snooze a while longer, I stroke his hair and slip out into the living room. I guess it is his birthday and he can sleep if he wants to. With Oliver also in the land of nod, I grab my dressing gown and start to gather Noah’s birthday cards. People aren’t due to arrive for the party until this afternoon, so I thought it would be nice if we opened Noah’s cards this morning, just the three of us.

  Realising that I don’t seem to have a card from Lianna, I scan the pile for a second time before deciding to check the mail. With it being so early, I don’t bother to change out of my slippers and make a dash for the stairs. Hoping that I don’t bump into anyone, I race to the ground floor and snatch the pile of letters from my mailbox. Wow! Someone’s a popular boy today. Clutching the stack of vibrant cards, I jump into the lift and pull my dressing gown tightly around my body. The mirror behind me is less than flattering and I succeed in avoiding my reflection until we arrive at our floor. Trying to stop my teeth from chattering, I manage to make it back to the safety of my luxury apartment and immediately fire up the heating.

  Creeping into the bedroom, I crawl into bed beside Oliver and nudge him in the ribs. The rain has had the decency to calm down a little and the wind that bashed against the windows all night seems to have come to a standstill. Flicking through the pile, I put the obligatory energy bills to one side and pop the obvious birthday cards next to Noah’s others. I can tell by the crazy handwriting that this one’s from Lianna. Smiling to myself at the quirky Barbados post stamp, I let out a squeal as Oliver runs his cold hands over my stomach.

  ‘Why do you have to do that?’ Giving him a glare, I allow him to pull me under the covers and try to warm up.

  ‘Where’s the birthday boy?’ He asks, nuzzling his stubble clad chin into my neck.

  ‘Still sleeping.’ I whisper, not wanting to give in to his advances. Batting his hands away, I pass him the cards and roll onto my side. ‘Look how many birthday cards arrived in the mail this morning.’

  Oliver rubs sleep out of his eyes and shuffles through the pile. ‘This one’s from my parents. Look at the post mark.’

  Taking the bright orange card from him, I turn it over in my hands. ‘Is it really bad that I want to open this?’ I chew the inside of my cheek and run my fingers over the stamp. ‘Your mum was gutted that she couldn’t be here today.’

  Oliver rolls his eyes and shakes his head. Janie’s absence from Noah’s birthday celebrations hasn’t gone down too well with Oliver. Apparently, recovering from yet another face lift isn’t a good enough excuse for missing your only grandson’s birthday. Being totally used to my mother-in-law’s not so traditional behaviour, the fact that she isn’t here doesn’t faze me in the slightest.

  ‘Just open the damn thing.’ Rolling onto his stomach, Oliver searches between the sheets for the remote and flicks on the television.

  Knowing that he is genuinely annoyed about the whole situation, I decide not to say anything more on the subject and tear open the envelope. The monkey themed card falls into my lap and I grab my reading glasses from the bedside table.

  For my cheeky monkey!

  Go bananas on your birthday!

  A smaller envelope is glued to the reverse of the card and I tear it off before handing it to Oliver. ‘Oh, it looks like they’ve sent Noah some vouchers.’

  Propping up the card on the windowsill, I roll out of bed and tug on a pair of skinny jeans. As much as I would love to snuggle in bed all day, there’s over a hundred balloons out there that need blowing up and they aren’t going to do it themselves.

  ‘What the hell?’ Oliver lets out a confused laugh and holds up a piece of paper. ‘Clara, these aren’t vouchers. They’re tickets.’

  Furrowing my brow, I pull a fluffy jumper from the wardrobe and reach for some socks. ‘What kind of tickets?’

  ‘Plane tickets!’ Passing over the sheet, he shakes his head in disbelief and chuckles.

  My eyes widen as I take in the text. Orlando? ‘Why has she sent us three plane tickets to Orlando?’

  ‘That’s not all.’ He continues, his voice getting louder with shock. ‘She’s also sent us a hotel accommodation coupon and a bunch of theme park passes!’

  ‘What? That’s crazy!’ I collapse onto the bed beside him and read over the details for a second time. ‘We can’t go to Orlando.’

  Oliver scratches his nose and puts the paperwork back into the envelope. ‘Why not? Everything we need is right there and I’ve already taken the next week off work for Noah’s birthday...’

  I stare at him, my muddled brain not being able to cope with this before my morning caffeine fix. ‘So, would your parents meet us there, is that the idea?’

  ‘I guess so. Hey, that must be why she hasn’t come over here!’ A dawning realisation appears on his face and a small smile plays on the corner of his mouth. ‘Man, I thought she was up to something when I spoke to her last week.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Tugging on my socks, I reach for my hairbrush and shoot him a quizzical look.

  ‘When she called here on Sunday, she was asking me all these random questions. When do you plan on bringing my grandson over here to see me? How much time are you taking off work for Noah’s birthday? How did Noah handle the flight to Barbados?’

  I nod slowly as I recall the odd strange text message that I have received from Janie lately. ‘I guess it is nice of her to go to all this trouble. Plus, all this must have cost her an absolute fortune!’

  He nods in agreement and wraps his arms around my shoulders. I can’t quite believe this. Well, actually I can. This is probably the most Janie thing that she has ever done. Only my crazy mother-in-law could book you a holiday without consulting you first. I let out a confused sigh and lock eyes with my husband. His eyes sparkle as he looks down at the envelope.

  ‘I guess it would be pretty amazing to show Noah a little bit of America. It is his heritage after all.’ I look down at my feet and picture us taking Noah to Florida’s famous tourist spots. ‘When do the flights leave?’

  Oliver pulls out the tickets and points at the text. ‘They’re open ended. We could leave tomorrow…’ He looks at me hopefully and runs his fingers over the American flag tattoo on his arm.

  For those of you who aren’t aware, Oliver is a Texan American and even though we have been together for many years now, I’ve never actually been to see his home country. Not that I haven’t wanted to, of course. It’s just that life has a funny knack of getting in the way of things and with Oliver’s family frequently visiting the UK, we still see one another often enough. Although he would never admit it, Oliver misses America terribly. I can tell by the way that his eyes glass over when he talks about his old life across the pond.

  Suddenly feeling a little excited about the prospect of paying a visit to the US of A, I nod slowly and rest my head on his. ‘Alright then, it looks like we’re going to Florida…’

  Oliver squeezes me tightly and I let out an excited squeal. Right on cue, little footsteps can be heard in the living room before a mop of dark curls pops its head around the door.

  ‘Birthday?’ Noah asks, a sleepy grin appearing on his adorable face.

  Oliver laughs and immediately runs over to scoop him up.

  ‘Yes, Noah Morgan. It most certainly is…’

  Some of the best gifts in life

  are the ones that you least expect…

  Chapter 3

  Tying a knot in the final balloon, I wipe my damp brow and let it drift up to the ceiling. One hundred balloons in every colour of the rainbow now fill the apartment. Splashes of red, green, yellow and blue cover the ceiling, like a very disorganised rainbow. There’s no mistaking what’s happening here today. Sliding off my chair, I stand back and admire my handy work. With Oliver keeping Noah occupied, it was down to me to put up the birthday bunting. To be completely honest, I might have gone a little overboard. The once
minimalistic apartment is now decked out in more banners, balloons and birthday cake than I thought physically possible.

  Satisfied that I’ve done enough, I wash my hands and make my way into the bedroom. A quick glance at my watch tells me that I have just thirty minutes until people are due to arrive. Diving into my wardrobe for a change of clothes, I settle on some black jeans and a pink shirt before reaching for my cosmetic bag. Before I had Noah, I could easily spend an hour applying layer after layer of powders and creams in an attempt to breathe some life into my tired face. These days my makeup routine can be completed in five minutes flat, three in the most extreme of cases.

  A few dabs of my Beauty Blender and a quick coat of mascara later I am ready to go. Flicking off the light, I saunter into the playroom and take Noah from Oliver. Dressed in a pair of baggy jeans, some tiny Dr Martens and an adorable hoody, he looks too cute for words.

  ‘You look adorable!’ I clutch my hands to my face and lean down to tickle his tummy.

  ‘Let go!’ He yells between hysterical laughter, kicking like a happy kitten.

  ‘Did you speak to your mum?’ I ask Oliver, who is totally pre-occupied with Noah’s train set.

  ‘Uh huh…’ He nods, holding his breath as the train makes it around the track successfully. ‘Yes! Put it there, Noah!’ Holding his hand in the air for a high five, he falls about laughing as Noah cheers with glee.

  Boys and their toys. Rolling my eyes, I wait for Oliver to tear himself away from the train set. ‘Well?’

  ‘Sorry?’ He looks at me as though he hasn’t heard a single word I have said. ‘What was that?’

  I swear, sometimes I feel like I have two babies, not just one. ‘Did you speak to your mum?’ I speak slowly, ensuring that he’s aware of how annoyed I am.

  ‘Oh, yeah.’ He jumps to his feet and dusts himself down. ‘My parents are going to meet us in Orlando on Tuesday.’