Текст книги "ARROGANT PLAYBOY"
Автор книги: Winter Renshaw
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Текущая страница: 35 (всего у книги 43 страниц)
SEVENTEEN
DANE
Harbor Bleu is a classy establishment, but it’s not going to deter me from keeping my hands off Bellamy as soon as I see her. I’d been planning to treat her to a decent lunch all week, even before Uncle Leo passed, and I wasn’t about to trash my reservations in lieu of sitting around Golden Oak moping with Beck and Odessa. Uncle Leo wouldn’t have liked that. He’d much rather me be out getting pussy and celebrating the colorful life that old bastard lived until fucking cancer stole his last fighting breath.
“Right this way, Ms. Miller.” The maître-d escorts a stunning blonde in sky-high red stilettos my way. Her hair bounces as she walks, and her breasts peek from the top of the skintight bandage dress that hugs her curves. She glows. Her skin is luminous like that of a woman who’s spent all morning at a spa getting waxed, polished, scrubbed, massaged and moisturized.
I stand to greet her, leaning over the small candlelit table to kiss her cheek. She slides into the half-moon booth I’ve reserved in the back of the restaurant and takes the spot next to me.
“You look beautiful.” I reach for the diamond necklace and straighten it. “Thank you for meeting me today.”
Not that she had a choice.
“Thank you for the spa appointment,” she says, running her fingertips along the length of her bare, soft arm.
“May I offer you a sample? Trimbach Riesling. Two thousand seven.” A member of the wait staff approaches us with an open bottle and two pieces of stemware.
Bellamy looks at me, but I’m more focused on the way the server is looking at her. I’ll deduct one percent from his tip for each second he feasts on her cleavage.
“Yes, please.” I reach beneath the tablecloth and squeeze her knee before inching my way up her inner thighs and way past the hem of her tight dress.
Her chin dips low, and a curtain of blonde wisps hide her face as she squirms. I wait for the server to finish pouring our samples and scram before I push her hair away.
“I want to see your face,” I whisper, my fingers aching to be inside her, though not nearly as much as my growing cock right now. “I want to see the way you fight it when I…”
Well, well, well.
I was going to fuck her with my fingers right here over dinner since there’s no finer way to enjoy a medium rare filet than sitting across from a beautiful woman with an orgasmic flush.
But she’s wearing fucking panties.
I pull my hand away and lean into her, nipping her earlobe between my teeth. “I thought I gave you explicit instructions not to wear anything else besides the dress, the heels, and the necklace.”
Her gaze narrows.
“The panties, Angel.” I roll my eyes and lean back. “Go to the ladies’ room, remove them, and bring them back to me.”
Her jaw drops as her cheeks flush. “I can’t do that.”
“Pardon?”
“This dress is so short. I can’t. I’ll be exposed.”
“If it’s that big of a deal, use your safeword.” I’m challenging her. “But this is an extremely minor, basic thing, of that you can be sure. I suppose now you’re going to pretend to be all virtuous.”
I toss back the Riesling sample and gaze around the restaurant, waiting for her to make up her mind.
“Fine.” She slides out of the booth, tugging her dress down as she saunters to the restroom, returning five long minutes later.
“Let me see them.”
Bellamy’s fist is balled, and she extends it my way, dropping a crumpled lace panty in my lap. I tuck them in my inner jacket pocket and wait for her to take her spot once again.
My hand wastes no time gliding back up under her dress, and my cock hardens the second I feel the slickness between her thighs.
“You’re so fucking wet,” I moan into her ear, breathing in her salon-scented hair. Two fingers slide between her folds, pushing inside her and eliciting a soft gasp while my thumb massages her clit.
“Are we ready to order?” Our server returns and my fingers have no intention of leaving Bellamy’s pussy anytime soon.
“Yes, please, I’ll take the filet. Medium rare. House salad. She’ll have the same.” I hand him our menus with my free hand.
“Would you two like any bread with fresh olive oil and parm–”
“No,” I cut him off, my fingers wriggling inside her clenched walls as her fingers dig into my forearm.
She sighs the second he walks off and tugs her bottom lip between her perfect teeth.
“Are you waiting for permission, Angel?” I whisper.
She nods.
“Good girl,” I say. “Come like no one’s watching. It’s just you and me. We’re the only ones here.”
My thumb presses harder against her clit as my fingers push deeper, faster. Her chest heaves as her lips smash together, stifling the moans she refuses to release. Her hips buck against my fingers until her eyes roll back, and she collapses against my arm.
Her thighs go limp, and I retract my arm, studying the sweet flush of release that floods her glowing face.
“Thank you for not faking it that time.” I scoot slightly and place my napkin over my lap.
Bellamy tilts her head. “What are you talking about?”
“I highly recommend you not lie about it.” I tip up my empty glass and set it back down. “That wouldn’t be good for you at all right now.”
“I’m sorry.” Her voice is hushed. “I was nervous.”
I don’t believe her, but I’m too mentally exhausted to psychoanalyze why she felt the need to do a poor rendition of a screaming porno orgasm.
“Whatever the reason, I don’t particularly care. Just don’t fake one again or I’ll ensure you have five in a row that you absolutely will not be able to fake.”
Forced masturbation isn’t a kink of mine, but in this case it might serve as a rational deterrent.
Our food arrives piping hot and on time, and per my calculations our server is now looking at a three percent tip based on the seventeen times he’s taken liberties at checking out my sub.
“Did you grow up around here?” She saws gracefully into her filet and forks a small sliver, bringing it to her rosebud lips.
“No,” I say.
“Where are you from? Or how did you wind up in Salt Lake City?”
“Here in Utah. And it’s just the way it happened, Bellamy. How is your steak?”
“Amazing,” she says. “Where’d you go to school?”
“This isn’t a Q and A session nor is it a getting-to-know-you date,” I remind her before remembering to soften my delivery. I slid my hand across the tablecloth, covering hers. “Let’s just enjoy our meal, shall we? The chef who prepared this meal is co-owner of a Michelin star restaurant in Chicago.”
The questions stop, and as I requested, we enjoy our meal together in silence. After paying the check and escorting her to the chauffeured town car I reserved just for her, I lean over and kiss her cheek. It’s the second time I’ve done it this afternoon, and I normally don’t make a habit of showing many displays of affection if any at all, but she’s been awfully quiet since I nixed her benign interrogation. And while it wasn’t a sexual act of any kind, I’ll offer her a small amount of aftercare in the form of a kiss and some reassurance.
“I had fun with you this afternoon. I needed this.” I brush her arm. “You did well in there.”
“We didn’t do anything for you,” she says, her clear blue eyes match the sky this afternoon.
“Everything in there was for me.”
My driver pulls up behind her waiting car.
“Tomorrow night,” I say. “Press the home button on the GPS of the Discovery. It’ll take you to Golden Oak. Call me when you pull up to the gate, and bring your overnight bag.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize it was an overnight thing.” She places a pointed finger in the air as if to stop me from going quite yet.
“Oh? I thought I’d made it clear before?” I widen my stance, unwilling to accept her refusal.
“I can still stop over, I might just need to leave in the middle of the night to get home before the sun comes up.”
“Bellamy, you’re not going to have the strength to drive home after I’m done with you. And you’ll be sleeping with me that night. My room is being prepared, and I’m having several items delivered to make your stay especially enjoyable.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to.” Her gaze lands on the sidewalk.
For a moment, I’m hit with a Jenessa flashback. I’m punched in the gut all over again, but I refuse to believe sweet, sultry Bellamy is half the devil incarnate she was.
“This is not up for debate. You belong to me. You’ll do what I say. End of discussion. I’ll see you Saturday night.”
I climb into the back of my Town Car and instruct the driver to take me back to the funeral home so I can finish planning my uncle’s burial with Beckham. After a whirlwind of a shitty week, the only thing I have to look forward to is being balls deep in Bellamy’s sweet as sin pussy tomorrow night.
Dare I say I’m impressed with myself for waiting? The old me would’ve wasted no time plunging my cock into that tightness. Something told me she’d be worth the wait.
As we head across town, I take my phone out to check my email. A call comes in when I’m halfway done scrolling through a quarterly statement from my accountant, and for a second, I debate pressing the ignore button, but then I realize it’s my guy.
My background guy.
“That was quick,” I say when I answer. “Please tell me she’s clean as a whistle.”
“Describe clean as a whistle,” he says.
My heart stops for a second and restarts when we hit a pothole in the road. “Don’t fucking scare me like that.”
Last time, he alluded to digging up some dirt on Jenessa, but I never imagined just how dirty it would be.
“Well, she is who she says she is, so that’s good. No known aliases. Graduated from Whispering Hills High five years ago. Birthdate checks out. Social security number. All the basics are fine and good.” He stops for a second and pulls in a sigh. “Had to go pretty deep with this one, check out some of her family members.”
“And?”
“Well, turns out her father is a card-carrying member of the Apostolic United Brethren. She comes from a poly family, Dane. Looks like there are three wives. Several children. But they’re shacking up Main Street style, hiding in plain sight from the rest of the world. Her dad’s a pharmacist...”
I set the phone down as he yammers on about mundane details. I tuned everything out after he mentioned the AUB.
“Dane?” he calls. “Dane, you still there? You okay?”
EIGHTEEN
BELLAMY
“Go say hello to your future in-laws.” My mother elbows me in the back as she carries a giant bowl of potato salad out the back patio sliders. “You’re standing around like you’re shy, but you’re coming off as rude.”
She’s wearing her clown lipstick again. I suppose it makes her feel special, or maybe it makes her stand out amongst the younger wives. Either way, I’m fully prepared for her to prance around like some made-for-TV mom and feign excitement when she swaps recipes with Cortland’s mom and the other McGregor sister wives.
She lives for this stuff, and it’s only gotten worse since we moved away from our old ward and stopped going to our old church where she had an ‘in’ with a handful of church cliques.
“Judy, is it?” I hear her say sweetly to one of Cort’s moms. “Hi, I’m Jane. I’m Bellamy’s mother. Mark’s first wife.”
On any other planet…
I tune her out as I stir the punch. The mountain of orange sherbet refuses to melt with the ginger ale, but that’s okay. I’m not going outside until this punch is damn good and ready. My hand reaches for my side pocket, feeling for the rectangular outline of my phone. The clock above the kitchen sink reads twelve-fifteen, and twelve hours from now I’ll be behind the walls of Dane’s Golden Oak estate. I can only imagine how lavish it is. Knowing him, every square foot of that place is elaborately outfitted from the floors of his foyer to the shelves of his refrigerator. There’s something inherently sexy about a man who pays attention to detail and has an affinity for the finer things in life.
Or maybe it just holds an exotic appeal since my entire life has consisted of blue carpet, Thomas Kinkade reproductions, and tater-tot casserole.
Either way, I can’t wait to see it, though I have a feeling we’ll be spending most of our evening behind the closed doors of his master suite.
I should be more nervous than I am, but for whatever reason I’m bursting with confidence today. Maybe it was the pampering yesterday and the anticipation of slipping into the silky black mini-dress I snuck home in the bottom of my bag today.
“Bring that outside, will you, Bellamy?” Summer stands in the doorway, one foot in and the other out. “And grab some of those red plastic cups.”
Just like that, I’m right back down to earth, smack dab in the middle of my current reality. The sherbet appears to have melted, so I take that as my sign. Besides, the sooner I get out there, the sooner this can all be over with.
“There she is!” Judy flashes a wide smile and opens her arms to greet me with a hug like she does every time I see her at Bible study. I place the sloshing punch bowl on a nearby table and return her gesture. She’s sweet enough, and I can’t help but wonder if she’s aware she raised a son who uses sex and threats to manipulate women.
My father watches us from across the yard. He stands next to Cort’s father, and they’re both sipping lemonade and steering clear of the children running circles around them. I loosen my posture and offer him a relaxed smile, not wanting him to have any reason to think this entire situation fills me with dread.
“How’s my girl?” Cortland’s voice sneaks up from behind me, and my body clenches before it remembers he can’t touch me right now in the presence of family.
“Hi.” I turn to him and grin like I’m some lovesick puppy dog. “Haven’t seen much of you these last couple days.”
“Wasn’t expecting someone’s boss to get her a Land Rover,” he says. “I kind of liked taking you to work the other morning.”
“The Land Rover is borrowed,” I say. “He didn’t give it to me. And you made me late.”
I say it all like I’m razzing him, but I’d love nothing more than to punch him across his perfect, cleft chin.
Judy releases a nervous giggle.
“She’s teasing me, Mom,” he says, playfully jabbing the side of my arm in slow motion. “It’s what she does, this one. She’s spirited. It’s one of the things that initially drew me to her.”
And that point goes to Cortland.
“Ah. So you two are perfect together.” Judy looks at her son like he’s truly God’s gift, but I’m dying for her to elaborate since she clearly deemed him spirited as well.
What does she know?
“Hey, hey.” Cortland’s father comes up behind Judy and places his hand on her shoulder. She covers it with her own and brushes her cheek against it. How could two sweet human beings give birth to such a monster? “Your dad went to check on the burgers, but I thought I’d steal you away for a bit if I could.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket, sending my heart into a state of arrhythmia. My fingers twitch, resisting the urge to whip it out right here and now to see what Dane wants. He’s probably reminding me about tonight.
Like I could possibly forget.
Or maybe he sent a special message to amp me up a bit.
Because I’m not already buzzing with anticipation.
I flatten my hand against the rectangular outline in my pocket and then nod. “I’m so sorry. I just need to check this quick. It’s probably my boss. I’ll be right back.”
I bite away the stupid grin on my face and yank the phone out, carrying it over to a secluded corner of the backyard. It fumbles out of my hand and lands into the grass face down, and I curse its slickness. I need to get a cover for this thing.
When I bend down to grab it out of the grass, a Sperry-covered foot appears out of nowhere and lands right on top of it. I glance up, squinting through the bright sun to see my beloved tormentor.
“Really, Bellamy?” Cortland says, his arms folded.
I push his calf until he steps off my phone, and I quickly jam it into my pocket before he has a chance to see anything on the screen.
“Don’t you think that’s a bit rude?” he asks. “My father asked to talk to you, and you ran off the second your phone went off.”
Yes, it was extremely rude. I will absolutely own that. But he doesn’t understand the consequences I might face if I don’t respond to Dane promptly.
“My boss is pretty demanding.” I roll my eyes and huff as if Dane texting me is an unfortunate burden.
“It’s a Saturday.”
“Exactly. He’s such a slave-driver, that guy.”
“What could he possibly want from you?”
“He was gone the last couple days. Maybe he has a question about a report I did?” My brows meet in the middle. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
“I think he can spare you for the next few hours.” Cortland uncrosses his arms before resting his hands on his hips and blowing his sandy hair from his eyes. “Come on. Stick with me. Let’s show our families how perfect we are together. And go apologize to my father. Don’t ever pull that stunt again.”
If he were Dane he’d yank me inside, give me thirty whacks, and then fuck me in the mouth.
I curse Cortland with every step I take toward Walter and Judy, and I don’t need eyes in the back of my head to know he’s burning holes into my back with his stare.
“I’m so sorry about that, Walter,” I say. “I just started a new job, and I’m still trying to get a good grasp on that work-life balance.”
It’s a term I’d only ever read about in psychology and human development classes. It’d been mentioned briefly in random chapters when discussing modern day stressors working adults faced.
“Oh, my Walter knows all about that, don’t you honey?” Judy pats him on the arm. “You’re talking to a man who doesn’t know how to take a day off.”
“Vacation days are for corporate drones,” Walter says. “When you own your own business, you don’t get things like holidays and paid vacation days.”
Judy laughs and stares up into a carefree, cloudless sky.
“Good thing this job is only temporary.” Cortland stands so close behind me I sense the heat of his breath on the back of my neck. We aren’t touching, but we’re damn close. He’s doing it on purpose. “As soon as we’re married, you’ll be too busy keeping house and chasing after kids, you’ll forget you ever even had a job in the city.”
My phone vibrates again. I’m not sure how long its been, but I can only imagine Dane getting stirred up thinking I’m ignoring him.
“Oh, Cort, she’s got plenty of time before she has to start popping out babies,” Judy says.
Thank you, Judy.
“Wait a year or two, sweetie. If you’re anything like me, once you start, you won’t be able to stop!” She chuckles. “Babies were like potato chips for me. I couldn’t have just one. And as cute as little Cort was as a baby? You’re in for a real treat.”
Gag me.
“Marcy!” Judy yells over toward another sister wife. “Wasn’t Cort just the cutest baby?”
“Sure was,” she yells back. “He won first place in the cutest baby contest at the Woodfield County Fair.”
Cortland blushes, smiling wide and showing off his camera-ready smile. There’s no denying he’s an attractive man, and I believe his mothers when they say he was a cute baby, but there’s no way on God’s green earth I’ll ever incubate anything of his.
“So have you always lived in Whispering Hills?” I have to change the subject. It’s way too early to be discussing babies, especially when we’ve only been courting for a couple months, and there’s not even a set wedding date yet. And because it’s just not going to happen. “I don’t recall seeing Cort at the high school, and he would’ve been a couple grades above me, right?”
“We homeschooled, Bellamy,” Walter says, his thumb hooking through the belt of his dad jeans. “That’s the McGregor way.”
“We’ll do the same,” Cortland says. “Our children will never see the inside of some government funded, institutionalized, Godless public school.”
I’m sure his parents put those words in his mouth.
“I loved attending public school.” I shrug, my eyes darting from Walter’s to Judy’s. “I think I turned out all right. You should see my sister, Waverly. Little Miss 4.0. Never so much as a tardy on her record. Gets to school early every single day. Epitome of responsible and intelligent.”
I wish my sister were here, or one of my mothers. Someone who could back me up.
“I’m going to stir the punch,” I say, stepping away and realizing Walter never did pull me aside like he wanted to. No telling what he was going to say to me, but I can only imagine it wasn’t going to be anything that might make me feel any better about the direction this situation is headed. “Be back in a bit.”
Offering a wave, I slip out of their little circle and make a beeline for the food table where Waverly’s already stirring the murky contents of the punch bowl.
“Scoot over,” I whisper, taking the ladle out of her hands.
“Huh?” She scrunches her nose but steps aside.
I glance around to make sure our immediate vicinity is clear. Dad’s several feet away, but the sizzle of the grill and the carefree shrieks of children should drown out anything I might say right now.
“I had to get out of there,” I mutter.
“Must be pretty nerve-wracking.” She nods, watching me carefully, “wanting your in-laws to like you and all.”
I laugh, tucking my chin against my chest. “I don’t care about that.”
“Cortland being too clingy today?”
“That’s everyday.”
“You don’t even act like you like him half the time.” Waverly’s statement sends a shock to my heart. I’ve been trying my damnedest to act like I like him, but if she sees through me, I’m a goner. “I mean, you act like it around them. But with me, you’re a totally different person when you talk about him.”
Thank God.
I release a harbored breath and nod. “It’s just not all raindrops on roses all the time. Relationships are challenging. They’re a lot of work. I just don’t want to give our parents any reason to worry about any of this.”
“They really want you guys to work out.”
“I know.”
“Just promise me you won’t marry him if you don’t love him.”
“I promise.” With my pointer finger pressed hard into my chest, I draw a slow ‘X.’
“Punch looks good,” she says.
When I glance down, I see I’ve created a mini tornado in the bowl. I stirred so hard it’s swirling.
“Guess so.” I tap the ladle on the side and set it down. On the other side of the yard, all the sister wives have gathered around a picnic table and are apparently ignoring the major kid fight going on over some bright green kickball. “I think your negotiating skills are requested over there.”
Waverly spots the fight and exhales loudly. She’s better equipped to deal with those things than I am with her saintly patience and sweet demeanor. I glance around to make sure I’m still alone and use the opportunity to finally check my texts from Dane.
TEN HOURS. DON’T BE LATE.
I scroll down to read his second message, the one he sent when I didn’t answer the first right away.
IGNORING ME, ANGEL? TSK. TSK. YOU KNOW THAT’S NOT ALLOWED.
I’m grinning hard on the inside, trying to think of something clever to respond with, but before I get the chance, I spot Cort walking my way. I shove the phone away again, envisioning a bathroom break in my immediate future. It’s going to be the only way.
“Burgers are ready,” Dad calls out before Cort has a chance to make any snide remarks.
“Oh, good, I’m starving.” I slip past the punch bowl and past Cort and help my sister round up our younger siblings. I’d rather be put to work than spend another moment by his side like some doting fiancé. Any other day I’d have no problem pretending, but my patience is paper-thin today.
“Let me help,” I hear Cortland say, assuming the spot next to my dad. He grabs a pair of tongs and a plate of patties, and my father splits the buns.
What a team.
“Aren’t you going to sit with Cortland?” One of my younger sisters, Gretchen, asks when we settle down at one of the tables a few minutes later. She’s only six, but nothing gets past her. She knows he’s a mainstay in our family.
“Yeah,” Gideon, her twin brother, echoes. “He keeps looking at you. I think he wants you to sit by him.”
I spin around and catch his glance. He’s sitting next to Summer at another table, but the spot next to him appears to be reserved for me.
The show must go on.
“You two are right. I should sit by him, shouldn’t I?” I climb out of the designated kid table and trek over to my rightful place, my reluctance in hand. “So sorry. I guess I’m just used to sitting with the kids when we eat outside.”
I choke down my burger in silence, focusing on the chirp of the birds in the trees and wishing they were loud enough to drown out the dreadfully boring conversation my father and Cort are having from opposite ends of the table. My father doesn’t have many friends, and most of his connections are AUB-related, but Cort has, without a doubt, secured his spot as his official best bud.
The sun peaks in the sky, and I glance at the clock on the pool house. Maybe another hour, two max, before the McGregor clan gets out of our hair.
I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.
My mind drifts to a faraway place, one where I’m some sophisticated courtesan about to get all dolled up and spend a night ravished in some castle by some arrogant prince who could have any woman he so desired, but he chose me.
And I then I flood with electric warmth when I realize my fairytale is one-hundred percent reality.
***
It’s almost seven.
They’re still here.
Evidently the McGregor family has never heard of outstaying a welcome.
They’ve been here since noon, and no one’s showing signs of leaving anytime soon. I haven’t seen a single yawn or heard anyone utter an “It’s been fun!” or a “We better head out now.” Dad and Walter are yapping away like two long-lost friends, and the sister wives haven’t moved from their spots around their picnic table. The children are on their second wind, and no one’s so much as mentioned anything about taking them inside for baths and bedtime routines soon.
This was supposed to be a simple cookout. A get-to-know-you lunch. Now it’s about to turn into a backyard camping extravaganza if they don’t leave soon.
I should be soaking in a hot bath right now, lathering myself with rose-scented bubbles and daydreaming about the look on Dane’s face when he sees me tonight. He’ll get that flicker I’ve seen in his eyes a couple of times, and his full lips will twitch just enough for me to catch the promise of his dimples.
Something tells me I haven’t seen anything yet. While our moments together have been bordering on intense, at least in my naïve little book, I know I’ve yet to see the full extent of his dominance.
My cheek rests against my hand as I peel chipped paint off the top of the picnic table. The hot slickness between my thighs mixes with the sudden realization that if the McGregors don’t leave soon, tonight might not happen.
Dane would be furious, and that would be an understatement.
I’m not sure how I’d even explain something like that.
And he buried his uncle today. The man needs a release. I bet he’s craving me just as much as I’m craving him right now.
I spring into action and trek over to the sister wives.
“Should we get the kids ready for bed soon?” I deliver my suggestion gently, resting my hands on my mother’s shoulders like some dutiful daughter before turning to Kath. “I’m happy to run a bath for the twins.”
No one says anything for a moment. They all exchange looks like I’ve just called curfew and ended the most exciting party in the history of the world.
“Didn’t Cort tell you?” Judy says, batting her eyes. “We brought over our projector. We’re going to make this into a family movie night. It’s a McGregor tradition, but we figured since our families will be merging we may as well share it with the Millers.”
No.
No. No. No. No. No.
This isn’t happening.
“No.” I swallow the hard lump residing in the center of my throat. “Cortland didn’t say anything about it.”
“We brought over The Little Rascals.” Marcy claps her hands together. “The nineties remake. Have you guys seen it?”
“We have it!” Summer laughs. “The children love it.”
“Ours too.” Marcy bats her hand like a playful kitten, and I’m pretty sure they just became best friends.
“Oh, Bellamy,” Mom says. “Can you and Waverly grab some of the lounge chairs from the pool shed? Let’s make sure everyone has a seat.”
I’m going to be here all night unfolding lounge chairs.
And then I’m going to be here all night watching Little Rascals.
After that, I’m going to be here all night, lying wide awake in my bed and stewing about the night that never happened and all the delicious things Dane was going to do to me. I was almost looking forward to being tied up.
Almost.
And now I know it’s not going to happen, I want it even more.
I’ll have to make it up to him on Monday.
I disappear into the pool shed and slip my phone out to fire off a text.
WE’RE GOING TO HAVE TO RAIN CHECK TONIGHT. CAN’T GET AWAY. SO SORRY!
It’s impossible to express just how sorry I am via text, but I don’t have time to hem and haw over wording. I’ve barely enough time to send the text as-is and not get caught.
I yank out a folded lounger when my phone goes off.
That was quick.
EXCUSE ME?
I don’t have time to argue with him or play these back and forth games where he reminds me he’s in charge, and I just crossed him. I fire back a quick message and put my phone away.
CAN’T EXPLAIN RIGHT NOW. SEE YOU MONDAY.
Lingering another few seconds, I wait for him to reply.
CALL ME. NOW.
My heart sinks. He’s upset. I get that. I want to be there with him more than he could possibly know.
I CAN’T TALK. I’M SO SORRY. SEE YOU MONDAY.
I switch my phone off because I know he’ll keep texting me, and I’ll keep responding, and the night will only become ten times worse than it already is. None of it is in my control. I can’t make the McGregors leave, and I can’t disappear without someone noticing Elvis has completely left the building.
I’ll explain as best I can on Monday. I’ve got all day Sunday to figure out a way to explain all of this in a way that’ll make sense to him without giving away my family’s secret. I’d love more than anything to be honest with him about it all, but most people wouldn’t understand. They’re weirded out by this. They don’t understand it.
Dane looking at me like I’m some circus freak is the worst thing that could happen.
