Checkmate Extended Epilogue - Alex
“Of course, he only married her for the children’s sake.”
“Oh, I see. Does she know that?”
“I doubt it. Very smitten, you see. She adores those children, and she… Well, she’s very fond of Alex.”
“Well, his ex was very fond of him in the beginning. Too fond of him, if you ask me.”
“Yes, well. The less said about her, the better.”
The problem with gossiping is you can’t really get mad when every word spoken is the truth.
Still, it doesn’t stop me curling my lip as I linger outside my Aunt Mae’s conservatory, listening to her dissect my marriages.
But Summer doesn’t deserve to be reduced to idle gossip. Especially when I know how desperately she wants my aunt’s approval.
Summer isn’t just her name. It’s her entire disposition.
She radiates warmth and sunshine. Her smile can light up any room, and she was born to be someone who nurtures. Honestly, she makes Matilda’s Miss Honey look like a rabid dog.
She’s that sweet.
It didn’t take much for my children to fall for her. Even when their mother was still around. It’s hard for me, as an adult, not to be drawn in by her.
My kids had no chance.
Even though little Oscar has no memory of anyone other than Summer, it was Maxxie who called her mum first. It happened over breakfast. Summer had asked whether he wanted orange juice or milk with his croissants, and he’d replied with a simple milk please, mum.
Immediately his little ears turned pink, and his eyes welled with tears as he stammered over his words. Summer didn’t bat an eyelid. She served him his milk, kissed the top of his head, and that was that.
She was mum for both boys from then on.
Odette was furious.
Of the three of my children, she had the most memories of Sophie. And I imagine a lot of them were good ones. Sophie never gave herself enough credit. She struggled with motherhood, sure. But she was never terrible. Hell, there were times I’d have even said she was a good mother.
But that’s the difference.
She was always a mother. Never a mum.
Odette was convinced for weeks that Sophie would come back for them. Months, even. And, boy, did she lash out at Summer for daring to take her mother’s place.
But Summer handled it with grace, only loving Odette more and more despite the hate she received in return.
I don’t know how she got through it.
I don’t know how any of us did.
But one summer afternoon, about four months after Sophie left, Summer found Odette sobbing over a picture of her mother in some newspaper article announcing her engagement.
They sat together all afternoon, Summer rocking Odette in her arms as my daughter shared some of her happiest memories. I think when Odette realised Summer featured in her memories more often than Sophie did, everything changed.
She asked Summer if she would please be her mum, and the two have been inseparable ever since.
It didn’t take me long to propose after that.
And it turns out that life with Summer by my side is pleasant. Easy. I believe we’re good together.
It’s not the all-consuming love I felt with Erica, or the crazy lust I shared with Sophie. She doesn’t make me tick, in either a positive or negative way. But she does make me feel content.
Secure.
I don’t worry about life the way I used to. I don’t feel the same overpowering need to take care of Summer in the suffocating way I took care of Erica. And I definitely don’t want to risk it all to screw her brains out like I did with Sophie.
It’s good.
Fine.
A little dull at times.
But given the past eight years or so, I’ll take dull.
The most important thing of all is that my children adore her, and they have a secure family unit. They don’t have to worry about Summer walking out on them because she’s chasing after some arsehole with a wallet.
They’re happy. Secure. Loved.
What more could I ask for?
“Are you eavesdropping?”
I jump guiltily as Summer enters the room, wrinkling my nose.
“Anything good?” she asks, whispering as she joins me, pressing her ear comically against the wall.
I take her hand, pulling her away. “She’s gossiping again. Don’t worry yourself about it.”
“Ah. Which one this time? You married me for the children, or I’ll never measure up to Erica?”
“Both,” I admit. “But don’t you pay her any attention, she’s just a vicious old lady.”
“She’s your aunt and she worries about you,” Summer says kindly. “It’s okay, Alex.”
“It’s not okay. I should go in there and—”
“You should not,” she insists. “She’s not unkind to me, Alex. And I can’t blame her for being wary of me after what you’ve been through.”
“Ah, don’t make excuses for her, sweetheart. She can’t blame you for what I’ve been through. Especially when I put myself in those situations.”
She stares down at our hands and the simple wedding bands on our fingers. “You are happy to be married to me, right?”
“Yes,” I say firmly, taking her face in my hands. “I can honestly say I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Her smile is radiant as she stands on her tiptoes to kiss me. I move my arms around her, pulling her against me to deepen the kiss.
Her body fits against mine. Her lips are soft and teasing.
It’s a perfectly fine kiss.
And later, when the kids are in bed, we will have perfectly fine sex. Followed by a perfectly fine cuddle until we fall into a perfectly fine slumber.
This woman deserves more than I can ever give her.
We both know that. We both know she’s settled for me.
After Oscar was born, I got a long overdue vasectomy. I will never give Summer biological children. She tells me she’s okay with that. She says she is more than happy with the children we already share.
I believe her.
I don’t think a person could love her children more than Summer loves ours. But sometimes I wonder…
She’s still so young, relatively speaking, and I think, subconsciously, I’m waiting for the day she realises what she gave up for me.
Though isn’t it funny?
This is probably the healthiest of my three marriages. Before I was cocky. I felt untouchable. I knew Erica loved me, no matter how rotten I was. Sophie was easy to control with either sex or money.
I never feared losing them the way I fear losing Summer.
Perhaps because I was never as vulnerable with them as I am with her.
“I love you,” I murmur against her lips, pulling her tighter. “I hope you know I love you.”
“I do,” she says, smiling up at me. “And I love you, too. Now, we should probably rally the troops.”
“You go,” I say, pulling away from her. “I just want to have a word with Mae.”
She hesitates for a moment before nodding once. “Okay, love. I’ll be outside.”
I kiss her forehead and watch as she leaves before squaring my shoulders.
Knocking on the door, I let myself into the conservatory and regard the two women looking back at me impatiently.
It’s almost funny how clichéd they look, sitting in two identical uncomfortable-looking chairs. They’re dressed head to toe in black, still mourning husbands who died years ago. Between them is a polished antique table with a porcelain teapot atop it.
Aunt Mae has her teacup partway to her mouth, her little pinkie pointed out as she raises an eyebrow. “Is there something you need, dear?”
I shake my head. “Summer’s grabbing the kids. We’ll be leaving now. Thanks again for having them for the night.”
“It was no problem, dear,” she says. “We had a riot together.”
“I’m sure,” I agree. “And I do appreciate it.”
She waves a dismissive hand, finally taking a loud sip through pursed lips.
“I do hope you don’t speak badly about their mum in front of them, however.”
The tension crackles almost immediately as the two women glance at one another, trying to figure out how much I heard.
“She’s not really their mother—”
“Oh, I am going to stop you right there, Mae,” I say firmly. “She is their mother.”
“I just mean—”
“I know what you mean. She’s still their mother.”
“Alex, she—”
“Feeds them, bathes them, dresses them,” I say, taking a breath to calm my anger. “She soothes them when they’re hurt, knows which soup to make when they’re sick, and gives them all the love they could ever need. “Who does that if not a mother?”
“Well,” Mae says with a delicate shrug. “Not to put too fine a point on it, but a nanny.”
“Careful, Mae,” I warn. “That nanny might decide you’re not fit to be around her children.”
“Your children,” she corrects. “And you wouldn’t let her do that.”
“Our children. As their mother, she does have that authority. As my wife, I will give her my full backing. Don’t try me.”
“Alex!” Her hand flies to her chest, her bottom lip quivering dramatically. “I am family.”
“And so is Summer.”
We stare at each other, neither of us willing to back down. By her side, Mrs McClusky watches, her beady little eyes moving between us as she nibbles on a piece of shortbread.
“I’m willing to concede she’s family you’ve chosen—”
“You’d prefer their biological mother take her place? Is that what you’re saying, Mae?”
“Heaven’s no.” She pulls a face, replacing her cup on its saucer. “If I never see that woman again, it’ll be too soon.”
“Right. So, you want my children to be motherless?”
“I didn’t say that.” She shifts uncomfortably, glancing to Mrs McClusky for help.
“I think what your aunt is saying is that, as lovely as Summer is, she’s not very well suited to you.”
I blink between them.
“What’s your point?”
“I’m just not sure she can keep your attention,” Mae says carefully. “And we don’t want another messy divorce in the future.”
“How about I worry about that?” I say, raising an eyebrow.
“It’s just… We know how you felt about Erica— See! See! Even now you can’t hear her name without flinching.”
Oh, fuck off you old hag.
“I’m flinching because you’re clinging onto someone I haven’t seen in nearly a decade.”
Unless you count her highly successful TV career. Which I don’t.
I made a promise years ago to never darken Erica’s door again after she took in Sophie when no one else would.
And I am a man of my word.
At least these days.
“Have you ever thought about—”
My laugh cuts her off before she can finish. She mutters her grievances under her breath while I take a moment to compose myself.
“Let me get this straight. You’re worried about me stepping out on Summer, but want me to contact my ex-wife to… what? Reconcile?”
“It doesn’t hurt to reach out,” Mae says. Her voice sounds so reasonable, I’m half tempted to look around for cameras.
Surely this has to be some kind of prank.
“I’m just saying. Erica is—”
“A memory!” I snap. “You do not even know her anymore. I do not know her. She has been married to her current husband longer than she was married to me—”
“Barely—”
“She has children of her own. A life of her own. She is nothing more than a piece of history. Let it fucking go already.”
“Alex, I won’t have you swearing in my house.”
“Fine. We’re leaving anyway. But this is the last time we will have this conversation. If you cannot respect my wife, you do not get to be part of my family.”
“Alex—”
“I am serious. She chose me. She chose my children. She chose to bring you flowers this morning and the shortbread you’re currently eating despite your blatant disrespect, so show some fucking decorum!”
A gasp sounds from the doorway. “Daddy! You said a bad word.”
I curse under my breath before turning to look at my family standing in the doorway, all ready in their jackets and wellies.
“They wanted to say goodbye to their aunt,” Summer says apologetically.
“Of course they did,” I say with a nod. “Okay, kids. Say goodbye to Auntie Mae.”
Maxxie and Oscar run towards her, their arms outstretched. Mae sweeps them up and holds them in a tight hug. “You be good boys now, you hear? And here’s a penny for the sweet shop.”
She pulls back, grabbing her coin purse, placing a pound coin in their open hands.
“And Odette? What about you? Are you coming to say goodbye?”
I look toward the door, surprised to find my daughter still by her mother’s side, her little arms folded across her chest.
“No,” she says, her eyebrows drawn. “You were mean to my mum. And I don’t want your money.”
Ohh, you’ve got to love that sweet, sweet karma.
“Now, Odette, that’s not very polite—”
“Neither is slagging off my mum, but you’re doing it.”
Mae gasps, clutching her chest again. “Alex! Are you hearing the way your daughter is speaking to me? And with such foul language.”
“I’m hearing it,” I confirm. “I’m considering the appropriate reward as we speak.”
“Now listen here, you ungrateful little brat—”
“Don’t you dare speak to my daughter like that, you hateful old bitch.”
Oscar giggles, doing nothing to break the immediate tension. “Mummy said a swear.”
“I don’t care what you think about me,” Summer says, pulling Odette into her side. “I don’t care what you think about my marriage. Frankly, it’s an insult to my intelligence that you think I don’t know why Alex married me. But I was willing to let all that go and play nice, because for some inexplicable reason, my children love you.”
Maybe not so much anymore.
“But what I’m not going to accept, not now, not ever, is you thinking you can call my daughter a name because she’s not buying your bullshit.”
“You’re not her real mother,” Mae scoffs.
“Ouch. I haven’t heard that before.” Summer gestures to the boys who run dutifully to her side. “It’s funny. I might not be related to them by blood, but I am their real mother. You, however, are related by blood and… well. Kids? Say goodbye to Mae.”
“Bye, Mae,” the boys say cheerfully, their little hands curled around their money, oblivious to the point they’ve just helped their mother make.
“Bye, not-auntie-Mae,” Odette says, turning on her heel.
That’s my girl.
I lean over to kiss Summer’s cheek. “I’ll be right there, love.” She nods, not saying a word to either Mae or Mrs McClusky as she takes the children to the car.
“I hate to say I told you so…” I shrug. “I’d start working on an apology if I were you.”
She opens her mouth as though she has something she wants to say. Unfortunately for her, it’s nothing I want to hear. I turn away, shutting the door on them and releasing a slow breath.
There goes the free babysitting.
I chuckle to myself, shaking my head as I leave to rejoin my family. We may not be rolling in cash or have a big fancy house. I’m not a big-shot businessman, and my wife isn’t some glamorous trophy on my arm.
There are no lavish parties or expensive holidays. Hell, given what’s just happened, there’s unlikely to be so much as a date night any time soon.
But I wouldn’t change it for the world.
Our life is perfectly fine.
We’re a team, the five of us. A unit. And there are richer men out there who are a lot less lucky than me.
What more could I possibly need?