Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87015 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87015 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Corbin stood next and snuggled in close. “Aww, I love hugs. We should do this all the time. End every day with a Beach Bum hug.” Beach Bums was the nickname we’d given ourselves when we were young. We’d spend our days at the beach, checking out the asses of all the cute guys. The name of my bakery, Beach Buns, was a play on that.
I looked over my shoulder at Declan, who was watching me. He was worried. I knew that, but I needed him. A second later he stood and joined us. “We got your back. Whatever you need. I hate him, though,” he said.
“You hate most people,” Marcus pointed out.
Leave it to Corbin to ask, “Does this mean we’re not allowed to look up his old sex videos? Since he’s your husband and all?”
I was actually a little curious myself, but I would never admit that. “No looking at my naked husband.”
“That’s so weird to hear,” Marcus said.
“Will you be looking at your naked husband?” Corbin questioned.
“Nope. We agreed no sex. This is a business arrangement of sorts.” That’s how I looked at it and how I was determined to continue seeing it. Maybe Elliott and I would become friends before this was over, but we would never be anything more.
* * *
I was exhausted, but I went straight from Marcus’s to Dad’s. I wanted to tell him before he saw it online. Unlike Elliott, who wanted me with him when he went to talk to his parents, I preferred to do this alone. In fact, if there was a way I could make it so Dad never met Elliott at all, I would. I wasn’t a fool, though. I knew that wouldn’t work.
When Dad opened the door, a huge smile spread across his face. He was always so happy to see me, the same way I was him. Life was so busy that we didn’t do it as often as we should.
“Parker. This is a surprise.”
Guilt already gnawed at my bones. I hated that I would be lying to him today.
“I missed you,” I said as we went into the house. I knew I needed to rip off the Band-Aid and just tell him, but this was hard for me. When I got married, it was supposed to have been for love.
“I always miss you. What’s new? How are the boys?” Dad always called them the boys. It didn’t matter how old we got.
I sat in the living room with him, and we talked. Last I’d seen him was at Christmas, so it had been a while. He told me about work and neighbors, both of us comfortable, but in some ways, we didn’t talk to each other like father and son. It was hard to explain, but he’d often simply trusted me to do my own thing, even when I was young.
Well, except when he found me blowing boys in my bedroom. That was a no-go.
I didn’t want to carry this on longer than I needed to, so I said, “I have to tell you something.”
Dad frowned. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes. Everything is actually great. It’s good news, only I feel bad for not telling you sooner.”
He nodded, clearly unsure but waiting for me to continue.
“I met this guy…Elliott…about a year ago. We dated for a bit and then broke up, but we stayed good friends. We’ve been talking a lot and recently got back together. He’s really nice, successful. His mom is a lawyer, and his dad is a congressman.” All those things were more or less true. “I have fun with him. He’s…different.” Those things were true too. I’d enjoyed talking with Elliott that first night, and on the night of the wedding we’d had a blast together. And he did feel different. Something about him got under my skin. “Anyway…we were in Vegas this weekend.”
“I thought you were there for a work thing.”
“I was, but Elliott came too. I know it sounds out of character for me, and I know it’s going to be a shock, but we got married. I’ll bring him so you can meet him soon.”
Dad sat there for a moment, rocking in his La-Z-Boy, watching me. I could see him trying to sort all this out in his head, to make sense of it all. I shifted uncomfortably, not sure what to say.
“He’s really funny. And he thinks I’m beautiful,” I added because he said it often, even if it was just him being flirtatious or trying to get into my pants.
“Why didn’t you tell me about him?” Dad asked softly, the hurt clear in his voice.
“The marriage was last minute,” I admitted. “I didn’t go there planning it, but it felt right.” And I guessed in a way it had that night, even if it only felt right because it sounded fun. “He loves his family so much. He’s a city planner. He feels guilty for not following in his parents’ footsteps.” I tried to think of anything I could say to endear Elliott to Dad, to tell him anything I could about my husband, but the sad fact was that I didn’t know a great deal about him. “His mom is Cuban. He says she’s his best friend.”