Taming 7 (Boys of Tommen Book 5)
Taming 7: Chapter 21

“I want a big dirty takeaway, with a minimum of three thousand calories and a side order of grease,” Gerard announced when he staggered into my bedroom late Saturday evening. “Seriously, babe.” Clad in gray sweatpants and a white muscle vest, and with his blond hair standing on end, he looked like a broken man. “I’m fading away here.”

“Oh my god?” I half-gasped, half-laughed, as I took in his disheveled appearance. “Who broke you?”

“Who’d you think?” came his disgusted response as he stumbled towards me. “Quick, push over, babe, my legs are bolloxed.”

“Don’t you mean bambied?” I snickered, using the new word I’d learned, courtesy of Joey’s baby mama.

“Seriously, they’re shaking so bad it feels like my kneecaps are about to dislocate from the rest of me,” he groaned, causing a laugh to escape me.

According to Aoife, getting bambied was when a boy made you orgasm so violently that your legs shook like a baby deer trying to stand up for the first time. Since moving into the annex at the Kavanagh’s house with Joey and AJ, Aoife had become something of a revered, seductive goddess to the rest of us girls, doling out wisdom and knowledge that blew our minds.

Seriously, I had learned more about sex in the last few weeks I’d spent hanging out with Joey’s baby mama than I had in my entire sixteen years on earth.

Aoife was joining us at Tommen after the Halloween holidays, and I couldn’t wait. Aside from the fact that it was awesome to see Katie come out of her shell with her childhood friend present, what her presence did for Joey was incomparable.

“Look at those tremors,” I cackled when Gerard faceplanted my mattress, narrowly avoiding Cherub, who was curled up on my lap, taking a break from the ever-boisterous Tom, Dick, and Harry – the three male kittens Mam agreed to let us keep from Brian and Cherub’s adorable litter this past summer. Salt and Pepper had been adopted by cousins of ours living in Bandon, while a friend of Sadhbh’s in Clonakilty had adopted Millicent.

Yeah, that had been a dark day for the Biggs-Gibson family.

“You think that’s funny but it’s not,” Gerard groaned into the mattress. “Because that bastard fucked me harder in the gym today than he ever did Little Shannon.”

“Gerard, ew!” I grimaced, slapping at his sweaty shoulder. “You couldn’t take a shower before you came over?”

“Shower?” He raised his head to gape at me. “Claire, it took everything I had in me to get back to you!”

“It couldn’t have been that bad.”

“He’s a madman,” he argued. “A sadist. I never want to see the inside of a gym again.”

“Yeah, well, you agreed to go to the gym with him in exchange for pints at Biddies last night,” I reminded him. “And if I recall correctly, you also asked him to train you up so that you could get a spot in The Academy.”

“Train me, Claire,” he deadpanned. “Not break my will.”

I covered my mouth to stifle a laugh. “So, you’re not sold on the professional rugby player career anymore?”

“Fuck that,” he groaned, and, with a great deal of effort, rolled onto his back. “I was built for comfort not speed. I’ll join the family business and become a baker.”

“You are a great baker,” I indulged him by saying.

“I am a great baker,” he agreed, looking up at me with a delighted expression. “I’ve seriously improved.”

“Hands down,” I praised. “You’re like a different person in the kitchen since you took the job at the bakery.” Smiling, I added, “And your fairy cakes are the best I’ve ever tasted.”

“See, this is why I love you.” He reached out a hand to stroke Cherub. “You get me.”

“I do get you,” I laughed, gently placing my purring queen on top of his back. “Which is why I must add that this ripped version of Gerard Gibson—” I paused to trail a finger over the fabric that concealed his recently renewed abdominal muscles, before climbing off the bed “—is pretty, but I like the old version best.”

“You miss my love handles,” he purred, carefully rolling onto his back and then setting Cherub back down on his stomach. “You prefer a little extra Gibs to keep you warm at night, don’t you?”

“Maybe?” I laughed, not that he ever had love handles to begin with. “Here,” I said, distracting myself from my lustful thoughts by scooping up our three mischievous kittens and carrying them over to the bed. “Say hello to your daddy.”

“Dick!” Gerard cooed, snatching up the furriest of the three. “How are you, son?”

“Don’t forget to give Tom and Harry some attention,” I warned, climbing back onto the mattress. “You’re always favoring Dick.”

“But that’s only because I love my Dick,” he continued to coo, holding the kitten up to his face so that they could rub noses. “Isn’t that right, son? You’re my favorite, aren’t you? Yes, you are with your little pink nose and teeny tiny paws.”

“Gerard!”

“Alright, alright.” Reluctantly setting down the beautiful ginger-haired kitten, he turned his attention to Dick’s littermates. “Listen, babe, you know I love all our kids, and I know it’s not their fault, but I can’t look at Tom and Harry without seeing him.”

“Gerard,” I gasped in horror, snatching up Harry. “How could you?”

“I know,” he agreed with a groan. “It’s terrible, isn’t it? But I can’t help it. They’ve got his beady green eyes and that creepy white hair … ”

“Brian might have fathered them, but you are their dad! And dads are supposed to love all of their children equally!”

“I know!” Throwing his hands up in defeat, he added, “That’s why I wanted to keep Millicent. She was every inch her mother’s daughter.” He pointed to Cherub who was still snoozing on his lap. “Look at that pussy. Look at how beautiful and sweet she is—”

“Oh my God, I can’t believe this!” I shrieked, scooping up the boys and stomping back to their basket. “You don’t love our babies.”

“I do! I do love our babies, Claire!” Bambied legs forgotten, Gerard sprang off the bed and hurried after me. “But that bastard Brian has given me an awful life. You know that. Remember when he snuck up on me in the shower and scratched my gooch? Or the time he bit my toe and I had to get a tetanus shot? He traumatized me, Claire. I can’t help it if every time I look at Tom and Harry, I’m triggered!”

“This is terrible,” I wailed, kneeling in front of the basket full of kittens. “Don’t worry, babies, I’m as disappointed in your father as you are.”

“Wait—” snatching me up in one swift move, Gerard set me on my feet facing him “—are we in a fight?”

“You know what, Gerard?” I planted my hands on my hips. “I think we are.”

“We’re a team, babe,” he tried to reason, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me flush against him. “We don’t fight.”

“Oh, no, no, no,” I warned, reaching up to twist his ear. “Don’t babe me, Gerard Gibson. You can’t smooth talk your way out of this.”

“Okay, ouch!” he grumbled, cupping his ear. “Was there any need for violence?”

“Yes,” I replied emphatically.

“Everything alright, you two?” A light knock on my bedroom door sounded moments before it cracked open, and Mam’s head appeared. “I thought I heard shouting.”

“Gerard doesn’t love all of our babies,” I cried out in outrage. “He only loves one!”

“No, I love them all,” he defended, looking flustered. “I just don’t like looking at two of them.”

“Is it Tom and Harry?” Mam asked in a sympathetic tone. “Is it because they look like Brian?”

“Yes,” we both chorused in equal volumes of outrage.

“Oh dear.” Pushing the door fully open, Mam walked into my room, using her hand to cover her smile. “Okay, let’s have it.” Walking over to my bed, Mam sat down and crossed her legs. “One at a time.”

“I have spent months looking after our babies,” I got there first by saying. Okay, by screaming. “Doing the night feeds when Cherub refused to look after them. I went without sleep for these babies when they are his responsibility, too!”

“Oh, no, no, no, don’t even go there!” he warned, holding a hand up. “I have done everything I can for our babies!”

“Except love them,” I spat back. “You big dick!”

“Language, Claire,” Mam scolded.

“I beg your fucking pardon,” Gerard choked out, eyes widening. “Who’s the one who took them to his house every weekend to give you a break? And who’s the one that took a job at my mam’s bakery to pay Cherub’s maternity bill at the vets? Or for the boys to get their pediatric neutering so they didn’t fuck their own mam and have incestuous hillbilly babies?” He slapped his chest. “This big dick, that’s who!”

“Language, Gibsie.”

“Oh yeah, Gerard.” Ignoring my mam’s request to tone it down, I rolled my eyes to the heavens and shouted, “What a great weekend dad you are. Out with your wallet to make it all better. Fatherhood is about more than just money!”

“Reginald lives with me full time!” he shouted back at me, throwing his hands up. “And I have never asked you to provide a single caterpillar in child support for him. No, because I dig up all the critters myself. Every day. So don’t act all high and mighty with me, baby!”

“And I appreciate you doing that,” I begrudgingly shouted back. “You know I hate getting my nails dirty.”

“I do know that.” Planting his hands on his hips, Gerard nodded stiffly. “That’s why I never ask you to do it.”

“And for financing our babies,” I said, still half-shouting, even though I could feel the fight leave my body. “I appreciate you being the bread winner in our family, too.”

“No problem,” he countered, tone still raised and hard, mirroring mine. “It’s the least I could do for you and the kids. I appreciate what a wonderful mother you are.” Purposefully hardening his tone, he added, “I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else.”

“And you’re so much more than a weekend father,” I admitted, voice softening. “And I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else, either.”

“Okay then.” He nodded stiffly. “Are we still fighting, or can we hug it out?”

“Hug it out,” I replied, bolting straight for him. “Definitely hug it out.”

“Thank Jesus,” Gerard replied, wrapping me up in a bear hug. “Worst ten minutes of my life.”

“What am I going to do with the two of you?” Mam laughed from her perch on my bed. “You’re like an old married couple.”

“I don’t know, Sinead,” Gibsie replied with a solemn shrug. “But whatever it is, could it revolve around food? Preferably something from the Chinese or the chipper.”

“No, no, please not the chipper,” I protested, stepping around Gerard to get to my mam. “We had chipper food last Saturday night. I’ve been dying for beef satay all week.”

“Ooh, yeah.” Gerard’s eyes lit up. “Make that two beef satays.”

“With black bean sauce.”

“And egg fried rice.”

“Should we get a portion of chips?” I asked, tilting my head to one side. “Or will we just have the prawn crackers?”

“Prawn crackers,” Gerard confirmed with a grim nod. “Remember the last time we got the chips?”

“The salt and peppered ones?”

“No, those were savage. I’m talking about the soggy ones.”

“Ew, yeah.” I scrunched my nose up at the memory. “Good call, Gerard.” Turning back to my mother, I reeled off our food order, tapping on a bottle of fizzy orange at the end.

“When I asked what I was going to do with the two of you, I was referring to your antics in general,” Mam said with a sigh of amusement. “Not filling your bellies.”

“Fill our bellies,” I encouraged, reaching over to pat Gerard’s at the same time he reached out to pat mine.

“Yes, please do,” he agreed with a solemn nod. “We’re fading away here.”

“You two.” Mam laughed. “Alright. I’ll order the food. You two clean up those kittens and come downstairs and join the others.”

“Others?”

“Hugh and Katie are in the living room,” she explained. “I’ll call the Chinese and order a delivery for the four of you before I head into work for my shift. Your father is in the office upstairs if you need him. He’s on a deadline for work, and you know what that means, so please only go up if you absolutely have to.”

My father, a once-upon-a-time super successful property developer, had thrown the towel in on his corporate job ten years ago. After his best friend died, Dad chose to give up the hustle and bustle, choosing instead to lock himself away in the attic writing murder mystery thrillers. It was cathartic for him, and his way of dealing with the grief that had overtaken him after Joe died. The fact his books were wildly popular was an added bonus.

“We’ll be good,” we both chorused, giving each other a knowing look. Because once Mam left for work, Dad wouldn’t be coming downstairs to check on us. Free house.

“Hm.” With another shake of her head, Mam walked out of the room. “Oh, and for future reference, keep the door open, Claire.”

“But what if Dick escapes and sneaks into Hugh’s room again?” I called after her.

“That’s not the dick I’m worried about escaping,” Mam muttered under her breath.