Six Months With My Uncle (Forbidden Fantasies 59)

But I frown when I see that it’s Patricia. What could my mom want? I guess she wants to check in, seeing that we haven’t spoken in a while. Last time she called, I’d just settled in and there wasn’t that much to report, frankly. But now, things have changed although I won’t be telling her that.

Quickly, I press accept and smile somewhat awkwardly as my mom’s face fills the screen.

“Hi sweetheart,” she says in a pleasant tone, blue eyes bright. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

I shake my head and hold up a piece of fabric. “No, no, I’m just working on my new quilt. See?”

Pat nods with approval.

“Very nice. I’m so glad you’re taking up these wholesome habits, Hadley. It’s exactly what I hoped for you, and it seems that the country life suits you well.”

I nod enthusiastically.

“It does. Did I tell you that my allergies seem to have gone away too? I used to have hay fever and some eczema on my hands, but I haven’t had any of that since arriving in Parson.” But then I pause, squinting at the phone. “Are you okay, Mom? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Pat’s eyes are wide with wonder.

“Hadley, are you wearing make-up? Your face looks suspiciously bare.”

I laugh because in my past life, I would always have on a full face, morning, noon, and night. Cosmetics and me were best friends, and the amount I spent on products each month was definitely in the three figures, if not four. But now, I don’t feel like I require make-up to be beautiful. There’s no need for blusher, foundation, lipstick, and definitely not false eyelashes, so I stopped, and I think my man appreciates the natural look too.

“Yeah,” I nod. “There’s no one here except me and Uncle Frank, so I haven’t worn any makeup in ages now.”

A look of wonder suffuses my mom’s face.

“Well, good then, because you were starting to look like a drag queen sometimes. But how are things in Parson, honey? Has my brother been treating you well?”

The question makes me freeze for a moment because what do I say to a question like this? Obviously, Uncle Frank’s treating me more than well seeing that we spend each night coupling furiously as we tear up the sheets. But obviously, Patricia doesn’t need to know that. Instead, I just paste a sunny smile on my face.

“Yes definitely,” I chirp. “Uncle Frank is great! We get along wonderfully. Actually, I don’t see him for most of the day, but we have dinner together at night and it’s nice,” I say. At least that much is true.

Patricia seems pleased as she nods, a satisfied expression on her face.

“Well, that’s lovely to hear. I’m glad that Missouri has worked out for you because honestly, Hads? I had my doubts about sending you to the farm, but it seems as if it’s working out well.”

A bland smile graces my face as I look down at the fabric in my sewing machine. “Yeah, the countryside has really grown on me. I like it out here,” I offer. “It’s peaceful, quiet, and about as different from New York City as you can get, but it’s nice too.”

“Good, good,” Pat nods with approval. “I knew the simple life could be a good fit. We just had to give it a chance, that’s all. Meanwhile, have you heard of what happened with your cousin, Lindy? Goodness, I hear she’s trying for a second child already.”

With that, we catch up for just a few more minutes, and the conversation is pleasant. But after hanging up, my shoulders sag because that was a crazy exchange even if Pat doesn’t suspect. After all, I’ve been making non-stop love to her adopted brother, and if she knew some of the things he does to my body in the wee hours of the night, she’d likely begin rending her clothes and tearing at her hair while wailing with horror.

But my mom doesn’t know, and I’m certainly not going to tell her about my secret lover, who also happens to be her younger brother. So I suppose Frank and I are in the clear …. for now.

11

FRANK

Five months later.

Hadley looks a little pale as she sits across from me taking the occasional bite of her food, although her plate’s still mostly full. Neither of us has said a word during this meal. Honestly, neither of us has said more than a couple of words this entire day because of what’s looming on the horizon. I desperately want to speak up, but I can’t bring myself to open my mouth.

It’s not that I don’t know what to say. It’s that I can’t say it, given the taboo nature of our relationship. After all, we struck a dirty deal and agreed that after six months, Hadley would leave. That six month deadline is tomorrow, and the air is heavy with a poisonous miasma.