Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26251 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26251 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
“A father to your children?” Ali asks, one eyebrow quirked. “Or just to Harmon?”
My heart begins to thump as I stare off into the distance.
“I think to my children as well,” is my reply. “This sounds so perverted, but Harris was a good father figure to me. Now our relationship has morphed, but I think he’ll be a good father to his son and our children, if we ever have any.”
Ali stares at me.
“You know your statement is kind of messed-up, right? I mean, Harris put the moves on you while you were his stepdaughter. That’s fucked-up.”
I turn to look at my buddy with a soft smile.
“And I’m still his stepdaughter in a way,” I say in a light tone. “But you’ve got it wrong there. I’m the one who put the moves on him, and the fact is that I still want to put the moves on him.” With that, I hop off her bed, suddenly feeling rejuvenated. “I have to go,” I say before grabbing my jacket and dashing out the door.
“Wait, wait,” Ali calls as I rush out of the room. “I have news too! I heard that there’s this prince who goes to a sex club in the city, and he chains young girls up and tells his servants to fuck them in the cunt and ass to train them! Doesn’t that sound sadistic?”
But I’m not listening and merely make a bee-line for the front door
“Can’t talk!” I yell. “Sorry!”
“Okay, okay but keep me updated!” Ali calls, her voice tinny as it drifts out from her bedroom. “I want to know what happens with your stepdad! And I’ll keep you up to date on the perverted prince too!”
But I don’t reply because my heart’s racing. I know what I have to do, and if all goes well, then then we’ll have a solution to our conundrum once and for all.
CHAPTER 12
Harris
This is completely my fault, and I bend my head, looking down at the papers on my desk. None of this should have happened: not my relationship with Mari; not my long, drawn-out divorce; and not even my son’s conception, although I can’t say I regret that one. All I know is that my life is a fucking mess, and I only have myself to blame.
After all, I overestimated Mari. I hoped against hope that she would understand the reasons underlying my secretive behavior, and the fact that I conceived a son during a moment of weakness many years ago. But she stormed out of here, as many headstrong young women are wont to do, and who am I to blame her? I’d likely do the same at that age.
“Daddy?” a small voice asks, interrupting my reverie. “Can I have a juice pop?”
“Sure thing,” I growl, getting up from my desk. “Come on, let’s get you one from the freezer.”
Harmon slips his small hand into my big one as we walk down the hall, and my heart pounds with a mix of love, gratitude, but also regret. I’d give anything to have Mari here with us, smiling at my son as she hands him a juice pop. But that’s just a pipe dream, and my expression hardens as I open the freezer door.
“Here you go,” I say, holding a Disney-themed popsicle out to my son. “Is Goofy grape okay?”
Harmon nods, taking the frozen ice from my hand.
“Thanks Daddy!” he cries before skipping off, his tongue somehow already purple from the artificial flavoring. “Yay, Goofy!”
Then, a rustle at the kitchen doorway makes me look up, and to my surprise, it’s Mari. She looks thoughtful as she watches Harmon leave, her eyes following the little boy before turning back to me.
“Hi Harris,” she says in a low voice. “I let myself in just now. How are you?”
I straighten.
“All things considered, okay I guess,” I growl, trying not to sound too despondent. “How are you?”
She nods slowly, her shoulder propped up against the doorjamb. Mari has never looked so beautiful before. Her curly brown hair frames her exquisite features, and her expression is thoughtful. Those pretty pink lips bow into a curve, and I have the craziest urge to stroke her cheek. But I stop myself because this woman isn’t mine. She feels betrayed by my omissions and lies, and I have to respect that.
I take a deep breath, my blue eyes drinking in the sight of Mari’s curvy figure. Is this the last time I’ll see her? After all, now that her mom and I are finalizing the divorce, there’s really no need for her to drop by anymore. Maybe our romp on her way to college was just that: a romp that will never be repeated.
“So what brings you home?” I ask, my heart beating painfully in my chest. Then, my mouth clamps shut. I shouldn’t have referred to my house as her home because more than likely, Mari doesn’t see it that way anymore. But she merely tilts her head at me, her big brown eyes gentle and liquid.