Chapter 37

Seven months following the sale of Deirdre’s defense companies to government approved buyers, and securing a hold harmless agreement from the UK and EU, I bought back Wellington Castle at a significant discount, from a Count that overspent and underworked.

When we moved back in the place had been completely redone by the former owners and needed very little work on my part. Baby Girl liked being back home on Scottish turf, and her brood were happy to be wherever she was. They also enjoyed roaming the many and varied corridors of the castle.

Joan Davidson moved in just after we did. Joan retired just in time for our move, but she might have been pushed into retirement, but that is another story, altogether, in plenty of time to sell off her furniture and settle all of her affairs at home, before joining us as we jetted of to Aruba for the winter. The Crown enjoyed a warm relationship with Aruba and Joan found handling life as a recently retired British Subject was quite easy.

The equatorial weather was perfect and our lives were peaceful. Joan adapted to island life faster than I expected, shedding her clothing in exchange for the occasional towel, and a lot of skin. We played in the pool, soaked in the hot tub, took the yacht to see Cathay’s former bandmates perform with a new lead singer, and generally lolled about like idle rich people.

Joan discovered many things about herself during the winter.

Her breasts, for instance, became a great source of joy to her.

Joan was surprised, or at least she said she was surprised, to fall in love with having her breasts massaged, nibbled, sucked, tweaked, pinched and generally molested. When Joan had her first climax just from breast play, she was overcome with wonder, shaking, crying, thanking me and trying to figure out a way to reciprocate, all at the same time. When I slid Mr. Johnson home for an encore, she came like a house on fire.

It was good for my ego right up until it wasn’t.

“Terry, I’ve been holding something back from you about my life...” Joan was suddenly very nervous. Whatever she was worried about had to be bad. “Don’t get me wrong, I care for you very deeply, but I need to go home. This life is not my life, and I can’t adjust to the thought that it will be my life for the foreseeable future.”

She stopped to see how I was taking it. We were in the master suite, naked, sweaty, covered in various bodily fluids, and Joan picked that moment to tell me that I was not enough for her.

So...

How was I?

I was resigned to losing her. That’s how I was right then.

Joan hugged me tightly and kissed me like we would never kiss again, and left me there while she showered, packed and walked away. I found out later that she arranged it all in advance. The suitcases were ready to go. Joan only needed her personal care items. There was a cab waiting at the gate with the meter and the engine running. She timed our final tryst to coincide with her flight arrangements.

Baby Girl and her brood replaced Joan in the big bed and cuddled with me until the sadness passed. Once I processed it all, I was fine to go on without her. It was just another installment in my life as the in-between man. When warmer weather took hold of the region, Baby Girl and I loaded up the brood and sailed back to Scotland, to Wellington Castle for the summer.