Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 21838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 109(@200wpm)___ 87(@250wpm)___ 73(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 109(@200wpm)___ 87(@250wpm)___ 73(@300wpm)
My tears start to spill over. “Figure it out. I need some air.”
“Angelica,” he says raggedly, reaching for me again. “I didn’t mean to make you cry, baby. Just give me a second to figure out what to do.”
His anguish gives me pause, but I still walk away, my chin raised. Everything has risen to the surface. My hurt over him not contacting me for a year. My frustration over being a kid in his eyes. All of it. And I just want to be alone so I can cry it out in peace.
I fling open the door to the studio and come face to face with my father.
Based on his ghostly coloring and inability to look me in the eye longer than two seconds, I know he heard everything. Heard me calling Murph Daddy. Moaning. Heard us making love, making promises. All of it. I can’t help but be relieved that it’s not a secret anymore, to be honest.
I’m a grown woman. I shouldn’t have to hide my choices.
I open my mouth to tell my father all of this, but he looks past me to Murph, his lip curling in a snarl. Before I can stop him, he’s barreling toward Murph with his fists prepared to fly. “You sick piece of shit. She’s my kid.”
Whirling back around, I lock eyes with Murph. He looks anguished, like he wants to come after me. He doesn’t, though. He faces my father, head on, taking a right cross to the face. “That was your one free shot,” he rasps to my father, dabbing at the blood on his bottom lip.
Seeing Murph in pain has me reversing directions. They’re squaring up to each other now, my father and the man I want to spent the rest of my life with. For the moment, their attention is glued to one another.
Which is why neither one of them notices when a hand claps over my mouth and I’m dragged, kicking, out into the hallway.
7
Murph
Angelica has been mine for less than a day and I’ve already fucked up.
The fact that I hurt her feelings is what is pissing me off more than anything, when Joe hits me with a right cross. To be fair, I deserve it. There’s an unspoken code between friends and I’ve violated it. And really, it shouldn’t have to be spoken out loud that a man doesn’t fuck his best friend’s much younger daughter. Especially not the way I did it, raw dogging her like an animal her very first time with a man.
With the pain cracking across my jaw, though, everything becomes clear.
Wanting to wait to speak to Angelica’s father before claiming her was treating her like a child. She is the one who decides what is best for herself now. What would a conversation with Joe have accomplished? He would have been livid, no matter when or how he found out I’m in love with his daughter. Or that I’ve taken her to bed. What would I have done if Joe said no? Or tried to forbid the relationship?
I would have taken her anyway. Made her mine.
Telling Joe the truth before sex would have made no difference, except that it was making Angelica feel like her decisions didn’t matter.
I’ll never forgive myself for putting her in pain.
Christ, what if she doesn’t forgive me?
My heart presses up into my throat, frustration flooding into my blood, boiling it, my fists rising of their own accord.
I glance toward the door, but my girl is already gone. Rightfully so. I’ve been a complete jackass and I’ll be lucky if she forgives me. Right now, though, I have no choice but to deal with Joe. He’s not going to budge without a fight. There is definitely some sympathy inside of me for what he’s going through. It couldn’t have been easy to hear us through the door. But all I can think about is finding Angelica and apologizing my ass off. In order to do that, I have to get this fight over with.
You sick piece of shit. She’s my kid.
Those words ring in my ears, but I don’t feel any guilt. Only anger at myself for calling her a kid so many times when she’s a smart, capable woman now.
“She’s not a kid anymore,” I say. “She makes her own decisions now. For some reason, she chose me—and God, I’m grateful.” For a moment, the weight of that emotion is so thick, I can’t speak. “We both have to trust that she knows her own mind.”
“Don’t tell me how to raise my kid,” he spits, his face turning red.
“You’re done raising her, Joe. She’s a woman. A successful one.”
His head ticks to the side, rage twisting his mouth. “Maybe you thought you’d get a piece of that success, huh?”
My own rage builds. “Don’t insult me. And don’t pretend you don’t know me. I don’t give a shit about the money.”