The American Lover

THE AMERICAN LOVER

G.E. GRIFFIN

G E Griffin has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

This book is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved; no part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher. G E Griffin has asserted her moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

First published in Great Britain in 2015.

Revised edition 2018

ISBN 978-0-9576745-5-4

Copyright © G E Griffin 2015

Cover design by ToMe Designs

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

TABLE OF CONTENTS

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

LOVE TO LISTEN

PROLOGUE – FAITH

PROLOGUE – CALEB

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

EPILOGUE – FAITH

EPILOGUE – CALEB

COMING SOON – DUPLICITY

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

MORE BOOKS BY G.E. GRIFFIN

ACKNOWLEDMENTS

To all my wonderful loyal CG Blog followers, because without them I would never have had the confidence to write my own books.

To Sue B, Renata B, and Laurel Isleib and Lúthien Númenessë for their editing and proof reading skills. to, Michelle Abascal-Monroy, thanks for your help with the promotion.

To Jane Harvey-Berrick for all her help and advice about self-publishing.

And of course a huge thank you to my husband and three daughters for their endless support and encouragement.

LOVE TO LISTEN

Be Strong – Delta Goodrem

Time In A Bottle – Jim Croce

Love Song – Sweet Little Band

I’m Yours – The Script

How Long Will I Love You – Ellie Goulding

I’m Ready – Bryan Adams

Patience – Take That

Use Somebody – Kings of Leon

PROLOGUE

Faith

DREW! YOU LEFT your dirty things in the kitchen again last night. How many times have I asked you to clear up after yourself? I fumed.

It was late, I was tired, and it’s hardly a criminal offence to leave one mug and a small plate until the morning, Drew argued back.

My husband was a car mechanic, and he’d been called out the previous evening to help a customer after they’d broken down. It’d been pretty late when he got back, so I’d already gone to bed.

But you know it really winds me up to find a mess like this in the morning. How much effort would it have taken for you to quickly wash your things and put them away? Then I wouldn’t be nagging you now, would I?

Drew rolled his eyes as I glared at him.

I can’t help it if you’re obsessively tidy, Faith. It’s not my fault if you can’t stand having a single thing out of place, or that you have to have everything so hygienically clean we could practically eat our dinner off the kitchen floor, he retorted.

Well, you may be perfectly happy working in a dirty, messy pigsty like your workshop, but I draw the line at you bringing your sloppy ways home, I persisted.

For Christ’s sake, Faith! Give it a rest, will you? Drew snapped, which took me by surprise as he normally let my nagging wash right over him. I’ll see you tonight. I’ve got to go - I’m picking up Mrs. Piper’s car this morning and I promised I’d be there early enough to run her to work first.

Since Drew hardly ever bit back, it made me realise how tired he must be. I should’ve been more considerate of the fact that he’d had a long day yesterday, followed by a late night, and now he was off out early again this morning.

Okay, I sighed, as I watched him pick up his keys and head out the door. His thick, light brown hair was sticking up all over the place, and he was dressed in his usual jeans and T shirt. The only suit and tie he owned were what he’d worn for our wedding, and even that had been under protest. Unlike the guys at the Royal London Bank where I worked, Drew didn’t do the whole sharp suit thing. But that didn’t bother me, not when he always looked so yummy in his jeans.

Since setting up his business, word had quickly spread that Drew Jackson was a great car mechanic who didn’t rip people off. He’d built up a solid customer base, including quite a few single women, who’d found other mechanics claimed something vitally important needed fixing when it didn’t, just to rack up their bill.

Drew wasn’t like that - he only said a job needed doing if it did. Plus he’d pick up their car from their home or workplace, meaning they didn’t have to take time off to get their car fixed. He was also a bit of a soft touch, often ending up changing a plug or a fuse or something for them, because Drew was brilliant at fixing pretty much anything.

Although he was a genius when it came to anything mechanical, he hadn’t been academic at school, so university had never been an option for him. But his parents had made sure he completed a recognised apprenticeship, so he’d be fully qualified to set up his own business. Sure, there’d been a couple of close calls as to whether he’d actually complete his apprenticeship, but that had only been when somebody tried to make him to cut corners, or do a shoddy job, which wasn’t Drew’s way.

Running his own workshop single handed meant he had to put in long hours, but we’d agreed it was necessary in order for him to build up the business, especially as we wanted to move to a bigger place in a couple of years. Much as we loved our little flat near Richmond on the outskirts of London, it wasn’t our forever family home.

Once the business is established, I’ll be able to take on an apprentice, and then I’ll be able to ease back a bit, Drew promised when I worried that he was overdoing things.

As his income varied from week to week, he worried about covering all the bills, especially as he needed to invest in a tow truck in order to grow the business.

We’re okay, don’t forget we have my income as well, I reminded him.

Maths and figures were my strong point. I started working for the Royal London Bank after I’d completed my degree, plus I’d taken an extra accountancy course so that I could handle that side of things for Drew’s business, meaning I always knew the state of our finances. We had it all mapped out - accountancy was something I could combine with having a family in the future. We wanted at least two kids, maybe three…

Yes, but we need a buffer for leaner times, for when you give up your job, he insisted, as I definitely wanted to be a stay-at-home mummy when the time came.

Saving money was his justification for using his beloved vintage Triumph motorbike to get around, leaving me free to use our car for commuting to work, even though I would’ve happily taken the bus instead. Truth was, Drew just loved riding his bike, and always dismissed my concerns about safety.

You know I don’t take risks, Faith. You worry too much, and anyway, I’ll be able to use the tow truck as soon as we can afford one, he argued.

I had to admit I’d always felt very safe on the back of his bike, and I understood the thrill he got riding it, because I loved it too – it just wasn’t always very practical.

To a lot of people, Drew and I probably seemed an unlikely couple.

I was an academic, a maths geek, a computer nerd.

Drew was a biker, a greaser, and the only books he ever studied were the engine manual kind.

And he was good looking in a messy, scruffy kind of way, while I was a plain Jane.

But it was just one of those weird kismet things. We’d met at a party when we were teenagers, we’d clicked, and that had been it, we’d fallen crazily in love and been inseparable ever since.

We married as soon as I finished university, and for whatever reason, we just worked.

For the most part anyhow - messy dishes aside. Everyone has their ups and downs, don’t they?

That morning as I had my shower, I decided I’d make things up to him that evening with some hot sex, to compensate for being married to such a shrew. I smiled as I thought of all the ways I could put a smile back on my husband’s face.

I’d fallen so crazily in love with Drew that I’d had no doubts whatsoever about losing my virginity to him just a couple of weeks after we met. Much to my surprise, I’d discovered that I was no prude, that I really loved sex, and that I could be pretty uninhibited about it. I really loved the intense closeness of being with Drew in this way, and how turned on he got when he looked at my body made me feel special and empowered, and I think that was what made me lose my inhibitions.

That’s how I knew he was ticked off with me that morning. Normally he couldn’t keep his hands off me, but he hadn’t kissed me or tried to squeeze my bum or boobs before he left, as he usually did.

Well, make up sex was the best kind, wasn’t it?

I wasn’t going into work until lunch time, because I knew I’d be staying late. The Royal London had recently been acquired by the American Western Bank, and the time difference with their head office in San Francisco meant we often had evening conference calls. I was expected to participate as I was heavily involved in finding ways to bring our systems into line with theirs. They were currently incompatible, and it was proving to be a massive and challenging project.

As I didn’t get paid any kind of overtime, I really didn’t see why I should keep putting in all these extra hours, and didn’t care if this was interpreted as not being very committed, because truth was, I’d never really considered myself a career girl and couldn’t wait for the day I’d be leaving to have a baby.

But if I hadn’t been going in late, I wouldn’t have been there when the doorbell rang.

I would have had a few more precious moments of blissful ignorance, instead of opening the door to two policemen with grim expressions.

Was I Mrs. Faith Jackson, the wife of Andrew Callum Jackson?

Once I’d confirmed that indeed I was, they said they needed to come in and talk to me.

I don’t remember very much of what came next.

Not after hearing these words.

Mrs. Jackson, we’re very sorry to have to tell you that your husband has been involved in a fatal accident…

PROLOGUE

Caleb

I SMILED TO myself as I imagined how happy Cassandra was going to be, when I arrived home early as a special surprise for her. My wife was always complaining that I put in too many hours at the San Francisco offices of the American Western Bank where I worked.

I bet Cassie thought I’d forgotten our wedding anniversary, but after the argument we’d had when I failed to remember it last year, I’d set myself a reminder so as not to make the same mistake again, aware that you have to work at a marriage to keep things fresh.

I’d gotten Cassie a big bouquet of lilies, which were her favorites - at least I thought they were, as I remembered her mentioning something about lilies recently. I hadn’t said anything about it being our anniversary that morning, firstly because she’d still been asleep when I’d left for the office, and secondly, because she claimed I never surprised her any more. Well, I was going to put that right for this anniversary.

I’d booked us a table at Acquerello’s, our favorite Italian restaurant in the Nob Hill neighborhood of the city, and as Cassie was always perfectly groomed and made up anyway, I didn’t think it’d take her long to get ready after I’d sprung this surprise on her. She certainly had plenty of clothes to choose from in her closet - she justified her frequent spending sprees by saying it was important for the wife of an up-and-coming banking executive to create the correct image.

I’d always been proud of my beautiful wife. As a fitness instructor, she kept her figure in perfect shape. Her long brunette hair was always immaculately styled, and I rarely saw her without makeup. She was stunning, and I considered myself a very lucky man.

After our meal, I was planning for us to go home and head straight to bed, where I would make sweet love to my wife, because I had to admit, it had been a while since we’d had sex.

What with the long hours at the office I’d been putting in, and Cassie working extra shifts at the health club, we just hadn’t gotten around to it in a while, which we needed to put right if we wanted to start a family soon.

Cassie kept putting off trying for a baby, insisting she wasn’t ready yet, despite the fact that we’d been married several years, were comfortably set up, and I could easily support her while she took a career break. I put a large part of her reluctance down to vanity, as she worried about losing the perfect figure that she worked hard to maintain. I tried to reassure her that it wouldn’t worry me in the slightest if she ended up carrying a few extra pounds once she became a mommy, but she still fretted about potential stretch marks and saggy boobs a pregnancy might cause.

But now we were both in our thirties, Cassie’s biological clock had to be ticking pretty loudly, so hopefully her maternal instincts would kick in before too long and she’d agree to come off her birth control pills. We really needed to get on with things, as I’d always liked the idea of a large family, and time was ticking by.

I parked my Chevrolet Cavalier alongside Cassie’s Chevy Spark. She’d been going on an on about upgrading her car - I think she had her eye on a flashy little Mercedes sports model - but I didn’t see the point when we were thinking about starting a family soon. Babies and two seater coupes didn’t exactly go together.

I let myself in, but couldn’t see any sign of Cassie downstairs, so I guessed she must be upstairs somewhere. I headed in that direction, still carrying the bouquet of lilies, so I didn’t forget to give them to her and impress her with my thoughtfulness.

When I heard noises coming from our bedroom, I figured she must have the TV on, and that’s why she hadn’t heard me come in. Well, that would make the surprise even better I thought, as I swung the door open.

"Mmm, oh, yes, yes, that’s it, Theo. Right there," I heard Cassie moaning.

Take it, take all of me, Cassie baby, a male voice panted back.

What. The. Fuck.

I stood and watched in fascinated horror as some young blonde guy enthusiastically pumped his dick into my obviously very willing wife. Then he glanced over his shoulder at me.

What the hell… Who are you? he yelled as he hurriedly withdrew, as Cassie spluttered out. Caleb… what are you doing here? I didn’t expect you home yet.

"Yeah, so I gather, Cassie. Oh, I’m her husband, by the way. That’s my wife you’re having such a great time fucking in my bed in my house."

The guy jumped out of bed and made a grab for his pants that were on the floor. He was just a slim young boy, quite a few years younger than Cassie. Not even a proper man, for fuck’s sake.

Look, I didn’t know… she told me you were separated… I don’t want any trouble, the kid whined, as he hastily gathered up the rest of his things and made for the door. Young Theo had obviously decided discretion was the better part of valor and couldn’t make his escape quickly enough.

I let him go, even though part of me wanted to beat him to a pulp. But the real issue here was with Cassie - he hadn’t exactly been forcing her against her will, had he?

Happy anniversary, darling, I snarled bitterly.

I thought you’d forgotten again, Cassie calmly stated, as she swung her legs out of bed, retrieved her hastily discarded pink silk gown from where it had been flung on the floor, and proceeded to wrap it tightly around herself, concealing the luscious curves that Theo had been enjoying just a minute ago. So I found my own way of celebrating.

Oh, I see. So you fucking some jock you picked up is down to me? I asked incredulously.

Yes, actually it is, Caleb. You’re never here, you’re always working. You never pay me any attention, or listen to anything I say.

That’s not true! I protested. I remembered our anniversary. See, I’ve even gotten you some flowers. I shoved the bouquet at her to prove my point.

Then why have you brought me lilies, when I told you last week how much I hated them? Cassie retorted, as she stood up and glared at me with her hands on her hips. Not the slightest hint of remorse or any kind of apology from her. Un-fucking-believable.

You didn’t say that… did you? I hesitated.

I’d been working on a report for an important presentation the following day, and hadn’t been paying much attention. Cassie had been mindlessly chattering away in the background in her usual irritating manner, while I’d been trying to concentrate on the figures.

I told you that lilies always remind me of funerals, that I found the scent overpowering, and that the pollen stained. But of course you weren’t listening, because as usual, you had your head buried in your boring figures and reports for work.

"Jesus, Cassie, you really expect me to talk about what stupid fucking flowers I got you, when I just found you fucking with another guy?"

I don’t see why that should bother you, not when you’re more interested in your job than coming to bed with me. Can you even remember the last time we made love?

It wasn’t that long ago. And you know this is a busy time of year for me, the end of quarter figures are due…

Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard it all before, save it for someone who cares. I’m bored with all your excuses. I’m sick to death of taking second place to your boring job, because you know what, Caleb? It’s made you boring. Trying so hard to be the perfect executive with your boring suits, boring glasses, boring haircut, and boring car. Boring with a capital B, that’s what you’ve become.

I’m just trying to build my career to provide us with a decent life style, Cassie. I work hard for our future. What’s so wrong with that? I replied defensively.

"You’re so busy worrying about tomorrow, about the future, that you’ve forgotten how to live in the here and now. You’ve forgotten how to have fun Caleb, because you’re too busy being so fucking sensible all the time."

So it’s a crime to be sensible now, is it? I retorted scornfully.

It is when you’ve forgotten how to enjoy yourself. You don’t seem to realize there’s more to life than work. You’ve become a typical boring banker, all you think about is your job, to the exclusion of everything else, including me.

I don’t see you complaining about my job providing you with a nice house and a comfortable life style, I pointed out. Or is this all just a front, because in reality you’re more than happy to have me out of the way working long hours, leaving you free to bring your toy boy lovers home? It’s just a shame you got caught today, and that’s the real reason you’re so pissed off. Find that one doing work experience at the gym did you? I didn’t know you got off on seducing teenagers.

Cassie went to slap my face, but I was too quick and grabbed her hand before it made contact, and held it tightly as I stared into her face.

How long has this been going on? How many others have there been? No wonder you turned your back on me when I came to bed, pretending to be asleep. You’ve been getting it elsewhere, haven’t you?

Cassie struggled to get away from me, but I kept a tight grip on her hand. She wasn’t going anywhere until I’d gotten some answers.

Caleb, you’re hurting me. Let me go, Cassie demanded.

Just tell me the truth, and then I’ll be more than happy to let you go, because you’re tainted goods now. All I want to know is how long you’ve been making a fool of me behind my back. I stared at the face I’d always thought so perfect. My stunning wife, whom I’d thought would always be at my side, as I pursued my ambition to become one of American Western Bank’s youngest executives. But right now, all I saw was a self-centered, cold hearted, cheating bitch.

You really want to know, Caleb? You’ve been so immersed in work that you really haven’t noticed anything wrong? It’s taken you walking in and finding me in bed with someone else, before you finally see what’s been going on right under your nose for months? she taunted.

Is that so? I sneered.

Yes, actually. I’ve been getting my needs taken care of elsewhere for quite a while now, because you know what? You’re boring and predictable in bed, same as everywhere else, Caleb. It’s always exactly the same with you, the same boring position, the same old boring sex.

I don’t recall getting any complaints from you, Cassie, especially as I always made sure you got off, I retorted.

You tell yourself that if it makes you feel better, but you know what? I always faked it. Truth is, on the rare occasions you got round to fucking me, I pretended to come, just to get the whole tedious business over and done with so I could get some sleep. And typically, you never even noticed, not once.

"How the hell was I supposed to know you were faking it, Cassie? I don’t recall you ever telling me you weren’t satisfied with things the way they were, because trust me, I would’ve been only too happy for us to have been more adventurous. But I