She stopped in her tracks before reaching the bed. So close. I tried to swipe the bag from her hand and pull her close to me. She moved out of the way before I could get my hands on her. My coordination and vision weren't great after the beers.
"I was trying to prolong the celebration but since you are impatient, birthday boy, I'll move it along."
Lizzie pulled the nightgown over her head and was standing there in a pair of light blue panties and nothing else. Her nipples were already hard which made my mouth water. She moved over to the bed and crawled up and sat astride me. She'd rendered me speechless because I knew her body better than my own.
"You ready for the rest of your gifts?"
I nodded my head, having a hard time getting my mouth to work.
"I think I should give you this gift first." I chuckled as her calling me impatient was hysterical given what she was like about gifts. Pot, meet kettle!
She rubbed herself up against me. My eyes rolled to the back of my head, my cock was making all the decisions, and he didn't care what was in the bag now.
"Sounds like a plan," was all I could say before her mouth found mine. She proceeded to give me several blissful orgasms, and afterward she handed me a bag with a leather journal that seemed to go with my new messenger bag.
"I love it."
She giggled. "Let's just say, I have good taste in gifts."
I nuzzled into her neck and licked her. "I love your taste in gifts too."
She wiggled into me, and we gave each other gifts all night long.
When I got out of bed the next morning, I had decided it was time. Taking my own life back meant facing my father, and this letter was the first step. Legally he couldn't hurt me anymore. Making a large cup of coffee, I sat on our sofa and opened a voice from the past that I'd tried my best to forget. My hands trembled as I opened the envelope and did my best to focus. Taking a deep breath, I unfolded the cream stationary with our family crest at the top.
Dear Phineas,
I am sorry. Such a small statement doesn't represent how deep I feel the regret and sorrow for what I did and how I made you feel.
You need to know that when you left, we called the police and reported you missing. We did everything we could, but the police assumed you were a runaway, which meant they didn't make much of an effort to find you. You were almost eighteen and would be an adult soon. We, of course, hired the best detectives to find you, but they turned up nothing. You have to know we never stopped looking for you.
After a few weeks, I must confess I was furious at you for leaving and making your mother so miserable. I couldn't understand how you could leave us after all we'd done for you. We'd given you the world, and you threw it back at us. To say your mother was devastated doesn't do that word justice. She was in her bed for so long I lost track, and she'd banished me to sleep in my study.
I was shocked when she came to me and demanded a divorce. She told me she couldn't live with my anger any longer. Phin, I will confess to you, that was the second worst day of my life. I couldn’t stand the thought of you and your mother being gone; it was the wake-up call I needed. After a considerable amount of begging, your mother gave me an ultimatum to get help for my anger and she'd consider staying. During that time, I went to therapy and began to try and win your mother back. I vowed to her that if we did find you, I would do anything to get you back into our family.
Your mother wasn't a pushover, she made me work hard to earn her love back. Only now do I feel like I am beginning to deserve to be in her life.
Son, you must understand that I've changed. Nothing excuses the way I treated you, not even my own abuse at the hands of my father. Somehow, I thought if I treated you the same it would build character and it would make you a better man. I understand you loved your grandfather, but he wasn't a nice man to me. If nothing else, I beg you to realize that was all I knew.
My cancer has been a terrible blow to your mother, and we'd hoped we would have more time to find you and show you how sorry we both were. I often think that cancer might be what I deserve for how I treated you.
Again, I wanted to tell you how deeply sorry I am for everything. The favor I ask is that you take care of your mother, she will be alone and she needs you in her life to help her find some happiness.
You owe me nothing, but I hope you will do this for her. She won't ask you, but I know she needs you.
Son, know that I love you and I am sorry. Take care and love your mother.
Yours truly,
Thomas
After finishing the letter, I sat numb to the world and let the tears flow. As I reread the letter, I realized my father had not once said beaten or used the word abuse in his letter. My body vibrated, and the anger hit me as it all sunk in. His apology seemed sincere, and he seemed to have made some changes in his life. I wanted to forgive him, given the work I'd done on myself, but he'd seemed to miss one crucial thing. For me to even forgive him, he needed to say the word abuse, and he needed to do that in person.