Rewriting Yesterday Read online

  "How have you not unpacked yet? Dishes, unopened mail? Have you been body-snatched? Where the hell is my OCD neat-freak friend?"

  Before I can answer, Sam strolls in. At least he used his key. Sam is a beast of a man at six foot four and enough muscle to bench-press a truck. Under his arm is a file, and before I even realise what I’m about to do I find myself moving, snagging the folder from him before heading back towards the sitting room. I throw myself into one of the two white leather chairs, with Sam taking the second. This leaves Ryan on the beautiful chrome and white leather sofa otherwise known as the most uncomfortable fucking sofa in the world. Sure, it looks great sat behind the chrome and glass coffee table with the chairs on either side and facing the floor-to-ceiling windows that offer a spectacular view of the city, but I would never make the mistake of falling asleep on it again. I’ve slept better on the desert floor in Afghanistan.

  "Okay, Caleb, now you can tell us what happened and why you look like someone has pissed in your Cheerios."

  I stare at Ryan and wonder where to even begin.

  "He pretty much left all of his assets to his wife."

  "What? I thought your mum and him got divorced when you were a kid."

  "Oh, they did. She hooked her star to some other unsuspecting idiot and is now living it up on a Greek island. I’m talking about the child bride he went on to marry after." I throw the file at him, which has a picture of a very young Frankie in it.

  "Shit. Are you serious?" Ryan shuffles through the pages until he finds her photo.

  "Damn, she's pretty, but way too young for your dad."

  "Something doesn't add up here, Caleb,” Sam tells me. I nod and agree that was my feeling, too.

  "From what I could find out your father might have been a bastard, but he wasn't a stupid man by any stretch of the imagination, so why wouldn’t he make her sign a prenup? I’m running a more in-depth background check, but this one will take time. There are too many blanks in the basic search, and the lack of information is making me suspicious.”

  "Maybe he just didn't care anymore. He found out he was sick and thought he could get one final fuck-you in. What does he care now he's gone?" I muse out loud.

  "What are you going to do?” Ryan asks. “I know you have plans to use that money to give something back to the community and the troops returning home, but we never actually needed it."

  I stand and start pacing backwards and forwards. He's right, I don't necessarily need the money, but it’s the principle of the matter. I was never going to keep it. I was going to use it for something good, maybe finally wipe the taint off it. Is there a part of me that gets off on giving away the money my father worked so damn hard for? Absolutely, but do I give a fuck? No. It’s not like I’m going to burn it. I do actually plan to use it to set up some much-needed services for soldiers returning from war who have no support and who received nothing but a big fuck-you from the very people they fought to protect. My father hated the fact that I enlisted. I’m not sure how he would feel about me donating his money to helping soldiers to readjust, but given his decision to leave it all to a little girl, I would say that he has no room to question my judgement. The man I knew would never have done this—signing over his money, which he loved more than his kid and his wife, to some slutty little school girl. She clearly manipulated him when he was sick, and although my father and I never saw eye to eye, he deserved better than this. Not to have his legacy destroyed and his reputation left in tatters.

  "I'm going to get it back, one way or another. She doesn't know who the fuck she is messing with."

  "Jesus, you sound like a mob boss.” Ryan laughs whilst shaking his head. “You don't know all the details yet. Let Sam finish digging before you go off half-cocked and do something you’ll regret. She has really gotten under your skin. I have never seen you like this before and I will be honest, Caleb, you are kind of freaking me out. Is there more going on here than we need to know and… why do you have a black eye?"

  I sigh. I was wondering if one of these assholes was going to say anything. I pull out my phone and pull up the image of Frankie that I found on the youth centre website, taken at the last fundraiser.

  "She may have punched me when I was being a bit of a dick earlier,” I mumble, hating to admit that she got one over on me.

  "A bit of a dick? What could you possibly have said in a freaking office surrounded by solicitors?”

  "I asked her if my dad had a hard-on for little girls."

  I watch as Sam winces, knowing what's coming.

  "What the fuck, Caleb? Ryan is usually the one with the big mouth."

  "Hey!" Ryan objects.

  I cut them off before the bickering starts. I turn the phone and show them the picture of Frankie. In the photo, she is wearing a floor-length gown in a jade green colour that makes her eyes pop. The dress is skin-tight and shows off each and every one of her delectable curves. Her hair is loose and cascading down her back in a riot of curls that hit the top of her ass, but it’s that smile that takes your breath away.

  Ryan is the first to respond with "Fuck," followed by Sam's "Me."

  I couldn't have put it better myself.

  Chapter Four

  FRANKIE

  After dressing casually in white skinny jeans and a black, fitted scoop-neck jumper, I jump in my truck and pull up to the rec centre at a quarter to ten. I turn off the engine and use these spare minutes to think about the information Malcolm gave me about Caleb.

  He joined the Army at eighteen and quickly worked his way up the ranks, and then left a little over six months ago, after ten years of service. He has a substantial trust fund left to him by his maternal grandmother, enough that he never needs to work again if he doesn't want to. It’s a bitter pill to swallow, knowing that he had no interest in his father at all until he was gone and Joe's money came into play. Yet, ironically enough, he thinks I’m the gold digger.

  If he only knew how angry I was with Joe when I realised he had left me most of his fortune. I wasn’t with him for his money in the beginning or in the end, and it felt like he was cheapening our friendship by doing it. It was Malcolm that made me understand that it was Joe's way of making sure that Jacob and I were taken care of even when he was gone.

  My chest pulls tight when I remember how much Joe wanted to adopt Jacob with me, but he knew his illness would work against him. He withdrew his name from the adoption process and used his considerable power to make sure that he wasn’t used as a reason I didn’t make it through all the checks. Today is bitter-sweet for that reason, but he would have been so happy for Jacob and me.

  I close my eyes and lean my head back against the head rest and conjure up a picture of Joe in my mind. Not from the end, when he was frail and had lost all his hair. When his skin was so thin and translucent I was scared to touch him in case it ripped like paper. No, I remember him from the day I met him. The tall, dark, brooding man who sat beside me on that bench outside the hospital. A man who had the weight of the world on his shoulders, and yet he picked me up and carried me home and loved me like nobody had before.

  “Thank you,” I whisper, and as the sun moves from behind a cloud and a small shard of light beams across my face, I know, somehow, he heard me.

  I shake off my weird mood and head into the rec centre. I can't help the grin that spreads across my face as I watch Jan fussing over a clearly embarrassed Jacob. Jan runs the rec centre with a sharp tongue and a heart of gold. She has just celebrated her seventieth birthday, but I swear she has more energy than the kids she looks after. She is tall and willowy, with a sleek silver bob, and despite the laughter lines on her face, or maybe because of them, she is still one of the most beautiful women I know, both inside and out.

  "Get your hands off, Jan. You can't have him. He is mine now." I wink at Jacob, who is trying to act blasé, but he can't hide his grin at my words.

  I chuckle as Jan huffs, putting her hands on her hips. "You listen to me, Missy. I may love you to bits,
but I have a soft spot for dimples, and Jacob's are the best dimples for miles around. I expect you to bring him with you to visit as often as possible, you hear me?"

  "Of course I heard you. The whole centre can hear you, because you forgot to turn your hearing aid back on again so you are shouting. And quit flirting with the poor boy. You will scar him for life."

  I hear Jacob burst out laughing behind me.

  "Well, I never," she huffs.

  I watch her turn her hearing aid on then I step forward and hug her around the waist. She pats me on the head and looks down at me as I speak. "I will take care of him."

  She smiles her blinding smile at me. "I know, my dear. You are perfect for him. You won't judge him, and you are easy to love. I'm happy for you both." She tugs Jacob towards us for a quick hug, which causes me to giggle and makes him roll his eyes. "Right. Shoo, the pair of you. Go and get settled, and come visit soon."

  Jacob swings his backpack over his shoulder and we head out into the carpark.

  “All good?”

  “Yeah. You were right, I don’t think any of us slept apart from Jan.”

  That makes me chuckle, because I can just picture it in my head.

  "Well, I'm hungry, and we are going to need groceries, so… shopping first or shall we stop for breakfast and then shop?" I bat my lashes at him hoping he will agree to breakfast first.

  "Seriously, Frankie, where do you put it?"

  I poke my tongue out at him because I'm mature like that. "Okay, breakfast first. I could eat pancakes or waffles. What do you think?"

  He looks at me for an answer. I link my arm through his and lead the way to the car.

  "I could eat waffles,” he tells me, even though I know he probably consumed his body weight in junk last night. Crap, I suck at this parenting thing. I must remember to buy fruit when we go shopping.

  “Yum. Jacob, I think me and you are going to be very happy together."

  He looks at me and suddenly his smiling face becomes completely serious. "Me too, Frankie, me too."

  * * *

  After a busy day getting Jacob settled in we decide to order Chinese and watch scary movies. Snuggled up on the large corner sofa, I watch Jacob, who is sat cross-legged in the cuddle chair as he loads up Netflix on to the television screen in front of us.

  When Joe was at his weakest, this room became our sanctuary. We spent many a day sprawled out watching movies here. It was also where I spent a lot of my time after he had gone. At times, it was almost like I could hear an echo of him in the room, and in those moments, it felt like he was still here with me. I hadn’t really changed anything in here. Everything was still the same apart from some extra soft throw cushions in post-box red and a handful of vanilla-scented candles. It really didn’t need changing. This room to me was home just as it was, with the chocolate brown sofa, chairs and rug, the large dark oak Welsh dresser littered with the photographic memories of the last five years, and the huge television mounted on the wall, that Jacob had taken control of.

  "So, what are we going for? Old-school creepy like Psycho and Halloween or modern-day gore fest like Saw?" I prefer the psychological stuff to the gore fest that is all the rage these days, but I will let Jacob decide, as I chose dinner.

  "I was thinking An American Werewolf in London."

  "Jacob," I whine like a big baby. "I will never be able to sleep if we watch that."

  "Well, if you’re too chicken, I suppose we could go for Hocus Pocus."

  "Hardy ha. You, Jacob, are a funny guy. Fine, you win. We will watch An American Werewolf in London but don't be surprised if I end up sleeping on your bedroom floor."

  I hear the doorbell chime, so I tell Jacob to set the movie up whilst I drag myself away from my comfy spot and go and grab the food.

  I'm surprised when I open the door to find Caleb instead of my Chinese, although he is equally as yummy.

  Down, girl!

  "Hi."

  Wow, I have amazing conversational skills. Somebody, please save me from myself.

  "Hi, Frankie. I was in the area.”

  He stops himself by shaking his head and shoving his hands into his pockets.

  “Okay, that was a lie. I was nowhere near here, but I wanted to apologise for yesterday. I'm not usually so confrontational. I think I was just shocked, but still, that doesn't excuse my behaviour."

  He seems much less intimidating today in his faded blue jeans, white t-shirt and sporting a black eye, maybe even slightly uncomfortable.

  "Thank you, Caleb. I appreciate that. I’m not so naïve that I can’t see what it must look like to you, but the marriage I had with your father was anything but conventional. He was my best friend. For a long time he was the only friend I had, so I don't like to hear you bad-mouth him. However, I still shouldn't have hit you, so I'm sorry, too."

  His face doesn’t lose any of its guardedness but some of the tension in his shoulders seems to ease.

  "Thank you. Truce?" He holds his hand out for me to shake. My hand feels so small in his and slightly sweaty. Let's hope he doesn't notice.

  I spy the delivery guy over Caleb's shoulder, so I let go of his hand and pull my money from my pocket and pay him before taking the food whilst Caleb stands watching.

  "Well, I have somewhere to be, but I was wondering if you would like to meet for lunch tomorrow so we could talk some more. I promise I will be on my best behaviour." He flashes me his dimples.

  God damned dimples and their Kryptonite abilities.

  Fine. What the hell? I figure if he pisses me off I can always leave.

  "Sure. Where?"

  "There is a little Mexican place around the corner from the solicitor’s office that you were at yesterday. How about I meet you there at about 12:30?"

  "Sounds like a plan. Bye, Caleb."

  I watch as he struts that fantastic butt of his towards a gorgeous black Range Rover, quickly raising my eyes before he turns around and catches me blatantly checking him out.

  "Until tomorrow, Frankie."

  He is in his car and pulling away, leaving me wondering just how he can make a goodbye sound like a promise of things to come.

  Chapter Five

  FRANKIE

  I would be lying to myself if I said I wasn't nervous. Strolling towards the restaurant, I take a deep breath and try to get myself together. I smooth my hands down the fabric of my white sundress for what must be the tenth time and mentally high-five myself for pinning my hair up in a messy bun, because I would be a sweaty mess otherwise.

  Looking around, I see that I've arrived before Caleb, so I decide to sit in one of the corner booths with the window facing out towards the busy high street. I'm just opening the menu when Caleb sits in the seat in front of me. He is dressed in a dark grey suit that was clearly made just for him and a dark purple tie that on anyone else would look ridiculous. The suit fits him to perfection, showing hints at the sculpted physique beneath it. This man literally oozes sex, and more than a few heads turn to admire the view. He is the epitome of tall, dark and handsome with hair, a shade lighter than mine, midnight blue eyes that are so dark they almost appear to be black, and a strong jaw partially concealed by day-old stubble. I don't know whether I want to wrap myself around him or run screaming for the hills.

  He lifts my hand and places a gentle kiss on the back of it. There is no way he missed the little shiver his lips caused but at least he is blissfully unaware of my dampening underwear.

  "You look radiant today, Frankie."

  "Thank you. You don't look bad yourself." His deep chuckle washes over me and soothes some of my frayed nerves.

  "What, this old thing?" He smirks at me, and now it's my turn to laugh. I catch him staring at my lips and feel a blush stain my cheeks. I lower my head and study the menu again. I hate how he has such an unnerving effect on me.

  "Hey, Caleb."

  I raise my head when I hear a deep baritone voice addressing Caleb and nearly have a heart attack. Standing at the side of the boo
th are two more incredibly fine examples of the male species.

  "Sam."

  I realise that I'm just staring when a hand waves in front of my face snapping me out of my revere. I guess that's his monosyllabic way of introducing himself. I shake his hand before mumbling out my name.

  “Frankie.”

  The guy next to him offers me his hand next, which I tentatively take.

  “I’m Ryan but you can call me anything you like.” I laugh at his silliness, but it helps me relax.

  While Sam turns slightly to talk quietly to Caleb I check both of the newcomers out. Out of the three, Sam must be the tallest at about six feet four, whereas Ryan and Caleb are evenly matched at around six feet two. Sam has thick wavy brown hair that I really want to run my fingers through and eyes like warm melted chocolate. A tight black t-shirt covers his broad shoulders, and distressed grey-wash jeans fit him to perfection even though he has legs like tree trunks, hard, firm and unyielding. In fact, he looks like he could carry me home over his shoulder and not break a sweat. Ryan, on the other hand, has more of an easy-going surfer feel about him. Shaggy blond hair that falls over his beautiful light blue eyes and a teasing quirk on his lips lets me know that he is quite happy with my perusal of him. I feel myself blush again and focus on his arms instead. He is wearing a white t-shirt that shows off beautifully intricate full-sleeve tattoos that start at his wrists and disappear under the arms of his shirt.

  Caleb slides down to make space for Sam, which puts him directly in front of me, before Ryan slides in beside me, his firm thigh pressing up against mine.

  "You don’t mind if my friends join us, do you?"

  I shake my head no, afraid that if I open my mouth to speak I might start drooling. This is getting ridiculous. I can’t remember ever having any kind of positive reaction to men. I had accepted that something inside me had been permanently damaged by Robert’s hands. Now I find myself having a physical reaction to three. Something is definitely off with me. I don’t know if I should be rejoicing or if I’m setting myself up for more heartache.