Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 46733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
He wants the same as me. He wants a family. He wants it all.
I was going to tell him I want it all too.
But he’s gone now, and suddenly relief touches me.
It means I don’t have to tell him. It means I don’t have to risk this being some warped joke.
Could it be a joke, though? Would he do that?
I find my cell phone, taking slow breaths in an attempt to stop the thudding in my chest, the near pain of it. I’m aware of how badly I need to control this.
I’ll end up erupting into embarrassing sobs the next time I see him. Everybody will know.
Did you mean it?
I stare at the message, trying to summon the courage to send it. But then I think about the reply which could come shooting back, the reply telling me no, of course, he didn’t.
He was getting overexcited. It was his form of dirty talk.
When that idea occurs to me, I quickly delete the message.
That’s possible, and I reflect as I get dressed and then walk onto the balcony. It’s becoming my refuge, where I can sit and imagine I’m floating on the crystal water, the glistening peace of it, the horizon telling me anything’s possible.
Banner was clearly insanely excited.
It makes me hot to think about his massive manhood springing up, the precome, the obsession in his eyes. So maybe he went too far by accident, regretted it, then left.
I check my phone. No text.
Staring at the ocean for a while, I wonder if he’s texted. I check it again. Nothing.
Over and over, and still nothing, and it’s pointless anyway.
My phone would vibrate.
I’m telling myself silly lies like perhaps the text will come through, but I won’t feel the vibration against my leg.
Why did you leave?
I type it out quickly, then poise my thumb over the send key.
It’s like there’s this block inside of me, yelling that I can at least pretend this is real. He might still want me. If I don’t send the text, anything’s possible.
He could have left for any reason.
But if he replies….
I left because I didn’t mean it. I’ve got what I want. We have to stop.
It’ll hurt. Bad.
I’m not sure how much time passes until my phone vibrates, but it’s not much. I grab it from my pocket so quickly that I almost accidentally throw it into the ocean.
There’s a hole in my belly far deeper than when I was awaiting the decision of the shelter. This makes me ache so much more than a job, though I love my job, the dogs, and the path I’m on.
I just want it to include my man too.
It’s not Banner. It’s Dad.
Can we talk?
I swallow, my mind suddenly a battleground.
It’s possible somebody heard or saw Banner leaving my room. Maybe they even heard what we did inside the room, the moaning, the compulsion, even if we tried to be quiet.
Sure, Dad. Where?
I’m on the beach.
I stand, my legs trembling, making me feel weak as I turn and head into my bedroom. Whatever happens now, I have to face it.
We’ve lied enough.
We’ve been sneaking around for too long.
I almost laugh at that, though it’s not funny.
Too long.
The weekend isn’t even over yet, but it feels longer. It feels like the deepness of our love and lust has made time stretch.
Love.
Shaking my head, trying to push that thought away – and failing completely – I leave my room and walk toward the beach.
Dad’s standing in the water, hands in his pockets, his chino trousers rolled up to the knees.
He turns to me, smiling tightly. I find myself acting the same way I did going through the airport when my passport was being examined.
Trying to make my face normal, trying to prove I’m me.
And that’s what I’m doing. I hate it. Playing a performance for my own dad.
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
“It’s great,” he says. “I’ve just been so busy, and I feel like I’ve hardly checked in. One-on-one. How are you doing?”
“Good, Dad,” I say. “Awesome. Fantastic. I’m excited about the wedding. I’m happy you found Sonya. She’s going to be a great stepmom. I feel like she’s my stepmom already.”
My words come rushing out like I’m the suspect of a crime pleading my case. The thought tightens the ball in my gut, squeezing.
“Good.” Dad smiles, walking over and placing his hand on my shoulder. “And you’d tell me if you had any doubts?”
I’m pathetically glad he’s made it this specific—doubts about the wedding. Not, You’d tell me if you were hiding something?
I’m not lying, I can tell myself. But I’m bending the truth. Withholding.
“I don’t have any,” I say. “You and Sonya are seriously great together.”
He pulls me into a hug, and I do my best to return the love and not let this moment become ash.
“I’m overthinking things a lot this weekend. I had a similar conversation with Banner.”