Forever (Betrothed 7)

“No. You don’t have the right to nag. Men put up with that because they’re getting laid. When I’m getting laid, you can give me shit all you want.” He stared at me for several heartbeats before he turned away.

Sex and intimacy had been the last things on my mind for the past few weeks, but now that I was alone with him, watching his hard chest while he was shirtless, I craved those things more. Jumping into bed with someone else would seem too soon after a serious relationship, but since I was in love with this man…it was different.

“No.” He kept his eyes on the fire. “I’m not seeing anyone else.”

I was relieved I wouldn’t have to see that supermodel ever again…with her double-zero waist and her legs for days. I was like most women, with a stomach and an ass.

“That seems pointless to me when there’s only one woman I want.” He grabbed the glass off the table and took another drink, as if he hadn’t just said something deeply romantic.

I wanted to sit right next to him on that couch, to have my legs lying across his, my fingers in his hair. That had been one of our favorite places to make love in the heart of winter. It was hard not to think of those memories…especially when I could recreate them whenever I wanted.

Seven

Damien

I walked down the hallway and headed down the stairs to the main dining room. It was early morning, and I needed to be in the office in an hour. When I reached the bottom floor, I saw the sunlight flooding in from every window, bringing the heat of springtime, the images of blooming flowers and vibrancy bright in my mind.

My father was already at the table, reading the paper while he enjoyed his morning coffee.

Sometimes I joined him. Sometimes I didn’t have time. I took a seat and poured a steaming cup of coffee.

He finished the paragraph before he folded the paper and set it to the side. “’Bout time you showed your face.”

The corner of my mouth rose in a smile. “Good morning to you too.”

“It’s been over a week since I’ve seen you.”

“Well, I have a job. You don’t.”

He gave me an exasperated look before he drank from his coffee.

Patricia gave me a plate of egg whites with veggies and a piece of wheat toast. She gave my father a completely different meal—pancakes, bacon, and eggs.

He bathed everything in syrup before he started to eat.

I noticed my father had gained at least ten pounds since he’d moved in a few months ago. “Maybe you should have a light breakfast and have a bigger lunch.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He sliced into his pancakes and placed a large piece into his mouth, the syrup dripping.

“It means you’re getting fat, Dad. I had you move in here to have a better life. But if you keep eating like this, you’re gonna have a lot of other problems.”

Just to be ridiculous, he took another enormous bite. “I’m a grown man, and I can eat what I want.”

Even if I wanted to kick him out, he wouldn’t leave. He loved his new life in my house. He loved having Patricia to wait on him, to make meals he couldn’t get enough of. “Just giving you some friendly advice.”

“Well, it wasn’t very friendly.”

“Tough love never is.” I took a few bites and stared out the open windows.

“Catalina is fond of your lady friend.”

“Annabella told me the feeling is mutual.”

“Is this serious?”

I chewed the rest of my food as I considered my response. “You’ve never asked me stuff like that before, so don’t ask now. You’re living with me, so I can’t hide those things like I used to.”

His pancakes were devoured, so he picked up a slice of bacon and took a bite, the crunch audible. “I know you’ve had women come and go here, but I’ve never asked. The reason why I ask now is because she joined us for lunch. That’s the first time I’ve ever seen you acknowledge a woman in your life at all.”

That was a solid argument, and I couldn’t counter it.

“And she’s beautiful…lovely…interesting.” He took another bite and continued to chew. He was aggravated minutes ago, but now he seemed involved, like this conversation was interesting rather than frustrating. “You have to think about your legacy, Damien. You’re getting old.”

“I’m not a woman, Dad.”

“But you don’t want to be an old man when your kids are finally grown.”

I might not even live long enough to grow old. “You’re still here, aren’t you?”

“And you’ll be the first one to say I’m an old-ass man.”

I chuckled. “Dad, you’re fine.”

He shrugged. “You don’t want me to live alone, you think I’m fat…”

“That’s not what I said—”

“That’s what I heard, and that’s all that matters.”