Maybe that’s why he did what he did. Maybe that’s why he pulled Candy from her spot at the kitchen sink, and bent her over the island. Maybe, had Cecile not been so present, he would have been gentler. Maybe he wouldn’t have drilled into Candy without pause, pulled her against him without apology, fucked her without care.
Not that either of them seemed to mind. She came twice, her shrieks so loud they brought Drew out from his room, his eyes darkening at the sight, his retreat as quick as his entrance. And the orgasm… he stretches out his legs, his cock thickening at just the thought of it. His orgasm had wiped any thoughts of Cecile right out of his head. His orgasm had blinded his self-control, had destroyed his sanity, and left him kissing her mouth, her neck, her breasts. His orgasm had rendered him a passionate fool.
That’s the beauty of sex. It can fuck up your world and then repair it all. Destroy your heart and then build you a new one. Turn you from heartbroken to love-struck in a hundred delicious thrusts.
Not that this was love. It couldn’t be, and it wouldn’t be. Not when Cecile still owned his heart.
CHAPTER 15
Dad’s condition hasn’t improved, but his setting certainly has. He’s now an hour outside of Nashville, in a manicured resort called Crestridge. His private, corner room has windows that open to a bloom-filled garden. I grip his hand, grateful to feel a response, a tightening of his fingers around mine. “Hey beautiful,” he whispers.
My eyes flit from his weak face to the monitor beside him.
“Hey Daddy. How’s your day going?”
“You know me. Just fighting off the ladies.” He smiles at me, the motion breaking my heart in its lighthearted attempt.
“So I’ve heard. Janice at the front desk is positively glowing about you. Try to let her down easily.”
He laughs, a loose sound that turns into a cough, his grip tightening as his body tenses. I hold my frown at bay, patting his hand gently. “I’m working on a new crossword puzzle. I’m stuck on a few. Think you could help me out?”
He nods, releasing my hand and gesturing for me to continue. I grin, reaching into my bag and pulling out a worn book, the second we are working through. Our first book was one for beginners, the clues ridiculously easy. This one is for intermediate puzzlers, and we are moving through it at a much slower pace. I can’t pick up the book without fearing that we will never finish it. It, like everything else in my visits, is a bittersweet reminder of the time I have wasted, and how little we have left.
I settle back in the chair, my lower back flaring in pain. My body is revolting, displeased with my new workout regime. According to the energetic ball of annoyance named Beth, I will be having my ass kicked for two hours a day, twice a week. Following that schedule, and my new diet, I will be down a dress size within thirty days. I reach back in my bag and pull out the Twix bar I snagged from the vending machine. I’m not particularly interested in losing a dress size. Not when every color coordinated outfit Rosit Fenton supplied me with is conservative as hell. I’m going to be killing myself for a body that no one will see. Well, no one besides Nathan.
I think of last night, how he had tossed a glass of wine into the sink and grabbed me, right as I was pulling my plate from the microwave. Any of my concerns over his attraction to me had ended in the twenty minutes of raw, animal fucking that he had given me.
I move my pen down to the last completed clue, double-checking my work before moving on to the next. I had been so pathetically grateful for the sex, the experience one of the only times Nathan had spoken or interacted with me all week.
I keep my voice low, giving Dad the clue and waiting as he thinks. He gets the answer quickly and I move on. After a half hour or so, his pauses lengthen, and during one long break, I open the windows in his room, bringing in fresh air. A few times he dozes off, then awakens again, his hand reaching out in a panic for my own.
Next week, Nathan and I will go to the courthouse and file the paperwork, and I’ll be his wife. His wife. It seems too soon. Less then two weeks ago, I was spinning around a pole and picking crumpled dollar bills off beer-stained carpet. Now I sit in a six-hundred-dollar dress, next to my father, just an hour from my mansion.
There is a gentle knock on the door, and Pam comes in.
“I’m sorry, but visitors’ hours are ending. We have to start night rounds.”
I nod, stretching as I stand, meeting her kind eyes with a grateful smile. “Thank you, Pam. For everything. He speaks so highly of you.”
She beams, clasping her hands together before her generous bosom. “He’s lucky to have a daughter like you.”
I force a smile, and hope it looks authentic. I know what she sees: a devoted daughter, willing to authorize any expense to ensure her father’s comfort and well-being. The previous facility knows the truth. They know that he was alone during the first six months of his sickness. They know a lonely old man whose insurance was running out, the one whose daughter didn’t bother to visit, or even send flowers. Though that is assuming that they got to know him at all.
I turn away before my smile breaks. I appreciate her false view of me, and the genuine care, love, and attention that this place shows to Dad. Maybe with every visit, the guilt will lessen. I can’t make up for six months of neglect. But I can try as hard as I can.
CHAPTER 16
I head out, through the lobby, the desk nurse nodding to me. “Good evening, Ms. Dumont.”
“Good evening.” I pull on a jacket and move down a long hall, past closed rooms and empty lounges. It smells of clean comfort, the luxury facility one that could easily pass for a spa. My heels echo against the floor, and I nod to a security guard. Fifty steps to my car. Sixty miles to the house. An unknown duration until his hands.
Inside, there is a hard twist of dread, the urge to get in my car and head south instead of north. The emotion makes no sense. In the moments when Nathan has reached for me, I’ve melted under his touch. I think my dread is more for my heart. With each experience with him, I guard it fiercely. And with each experience, I feel it crack a little more. Tonight, I’m at my weakest emotionally—my heart warm and grateful for the opportunities he has afforded me and my father. Tonight, before I even step in his house, I can feel the warm tendrils of emotion slipping uninvited into my heart.
I push aside the thoughts, and reach for the handle of my new car, a sleek black Mercedes, the car unlocking at my touch. Then, I am inside, the facility's gates opening, and I am heading north.
CHAPTER 17
Drew stands by the front door, glancing at his watch as I step out of the vehicle. “He’s been waiting,” he says quietly, opening the door as I approach.