Daddy's Dishonest Little Girl (Wounded Daddies 1)

“Well then,” he says. “You’re hanging out with the wrong people.”

I laugh a bit bitterly and say, “Not hanging out with anybody these days. Who’d want to?” The truth is I that I never ‘hang out’ with anyone. The truth is that’s how I’ve lived my whole life.

“What am I?” he asks. “I’m pretty sure I count as an ‘anybody’, and we’re going to hang out right now.”

I smile and say, “I mean… well, you know what I mean.”

“I do know what you mean,” he says, “and that’s the problem.” There is sternness to his voice that’s both thrilling and terrifying.

“I…I…”

“Just listen to me,” he says. He pulls the car to the side of the road, puts it in park, and turns the engine off. “There is nothing wrong with you. I don’t want you to put yourself down, anymore. Do you understand me?”

I can’t believe how he’s speaking to me and even more, I can’t believe how it thrills me. It thrills me beyond anything I might have expected.

“I—”

“This isn’t complicated, Gwen,” he says. “You would feel hurt and angry if somebody else was mean to you. So, it’s time you stopped being mean to yourself.” He looks at me and, despite his tone, there is tenderness in his eyes. “Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I say. I find it remarkable I didn’t say, “Yes, Daddy.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” he says again. “Say it.”

I can’t believe how hard it is to get the words out, but I manage to mumble them. He makes me say it another seven or eight times before, satisfied, he starts the car again.

Breakfast is the most profoundly beautiful thing I have ever experienced. I have no doubts anymore at all. I am in love with this man. I think I also worship him a bit. Long after breakfast, long after he has completed his work for the day, and even long after he has left; every time I am about to put myself down, I catch myself. I don’t always catch myself, before I utter the words, but by the end of the day I realize just how often words escape my lips that are filled with self-hatred.

It is a shocking realization.

That night, as I lie in bed, I reach into the drawer and take out the book. If there is something in there that shocks me, so be it. I can’t imagine anything more shocking or crazy that could change my feelings for Paul and I can’t imagine anything in there I wouldn’t be willing to do, if I thought it would make him happy.