Chapter 16
sixteen
. . .
Grant
I'm met with shrill squeals followed by laughter as I enter the house, and I wonder who Hazel has over this late.
I missed dinner, hoping to avoid any awkward conversation with Sophia.
I need to talk to her, but I'm not ready to say what I should say.
I'm not ready to be professional and lock us into the co-working zone—and that right there is more fucked up than I'll allow myself to think about.
Right now, I'm going to go find the source of all the commotion I hear and enjoy every second of dad time.
"Hey, what's all this noise—" I nearly give myself whiplash from the abrupt halt I make as I round the corner into the living room.
Sophia is down on all fours, crawling under a bridge of sofa cushions, as Hazel stands on a chair across the room, waving a sword at my sister, who is tied up with a jump rope.
The place is a mess, but all I can see is that small, round peach of Sophia's ass bent over at the perfect angle that if I were to drop to my knees, I could grab her hips and slide into her so clean and quickly that it wouldn't take long before we'd have our own mess to contend with.
"Dad! Quick, get on the couch! The carpet is the ocean, and you'll drown!"
I quickly sit on the leather sofa to comply with the orders, but also because I'm dumbstruck and not sure what to say.
"Now, sit back and watch as Sophia walks the plank so she can save Aunt Sarah!" And then the most ridiculous-sounding evil laugh escapes my daughter, and I see Sophia peeking over her shoulder at me with tears of laughter in her eyes, clearly enjoying every minute of this.
"Save me, good sir. The evil pirate is so cruel. I want to save my sister, but she's making me jump into an ocean of piranha!"
"No, Dad, don't listen to her. You're nobody right now."
Ouch.
"Get to walking, missy, or I'll cut your sister's head off."
Jesus. This took a turn.
"Ok, that feels like a good stopping point to me. Join us next week when Pirate Crazy Pants decides the fate of Princess Plank-Walker and her sister."
"Daaaad."
"Haaaaze."
"Fine. But I'm not waiting until next week. Sophia, can you come over tomorrow? Aunt Sarah won't be here, but we don't need her to keep playing."
"Hey, I was an important part of this game today!" my sister whines. "Don't do me like that!"
Hazel runs up to her and places both hands on her face. She looks her right in the eyes and says with the seriousness of a responsible adult, "You are very important. Don't ever forget that." Then she drops her hands and shrugs. "But you won't be here tomorrow, and the show must go on."
Sophia rolls onto her back and slaps a hand over her mouth to hold in her laughter. She's looking at me like she doesn't want to offend Hazel, but it's too hilarious to ignore.
"Untie your aunt, and let's get this place cleaned up."
"I'll help her clean up," Sophia says. "You should go eat. We left you some dinner in the oven."
I still as I take in those words. We left you dinner. Go eat. Words that real families use. It feels warm and good, but then the feeling slowly turns into panic, icy tingles, and the need to escape the room.
I turn and walk out toward the kitchen as I hear my sister say, "Someone must be hungry.
" She's right. I'm starving. But not for food.
For Sophia. God, that little taste last night was not enough, and now she's in my house again, on all fours no less, and playing with my daughter?
I grab the plate out of the oven and am stunned at what I see. Meatloaf? Who made this?
"Sophia made dinner," my sister says as she walks up next to me to grab a water out of the fridge.
I just grunt. After sliding onto the stool and placing my plate on my kitchen island, I dip my fork in and savor the bite of the most delicious meatloaf I've ever had in my entire life.
"It's Mom's recipe."
I knew it. Now I don't feel so bad saying it was the best, since it's technically my mom's and hers is the best.
"Why does Sophia have Mom's recipe?" I try to ask in the most neutral voice I can muster.
"We were outside swimming when she got home, and she hung out with us for a bit.
Hazel mentioned dinner and that she wanted meatloaf, and Sophia offered to make it.
When we came inside, Hazel told her that Grammy's meatloaf was your favorite, and Sophia asked if she had the recipe.
I couldn't say we don't have it. That would be rude. "
"Of course. It's fine."
"She's amazing, you know."
"It's not like that, so don't even start."
She holds my stare for a minute and then clicks her tongue against her cheek.
"Ok."
I roll my eyes and turn back to eat more of this fucking delicious meal. She's gorgeous, funny, and can cook, too? I shake my head. I don't need someone to cook for me. I can hire people to do that. Josie does it sometimes. I do not need to be in a relationship so I can get a home-cooked meal.
I turn back around and can see Sophia and my sister talking and laughing as they help Hazel clean up the mess, and the constraint around my heart tightens.
I like how she looks in there, chatting comfortably with my sister, effortlessly brushing her hand over Hazel's hair and helping her pick up her things.
I'm probably making more of this than it is. She's an actress, for Christ's sake. Of course she can play any part she wants.
But something tells me this isn't a role she's playing. She looks genuinely at ease.
I see her bend down and kiss the top of Hazel's head, and I turn around because I can't watch it anymore. I focus on my favorite food instead.
"Sorry to crash dinner again. I'm headed back to the guest house, so you can enjoy the rest of your evening with your daughter."
"Ok, thanks for dinner."
The words come out clipped and professional. Distant. I'm hyper-aware of maintaining boundaries after last night's mistake.
I don't look up from my plate. I can't look up because, if I do, I might see something in her expression that could crack this carefully constructed wall I'm trying to maintain, brick by methodical brick.
She lingers just for a moment, long enough that I can feel the weight of her uncertainty, her attempt to read the situation. Sophia's smart enough to recognize I'm trying to keep things professional.
"You're welcome. See you tomorrow."
And then she's gone.
The silence feels like a reprieve—and a loss.
After dinner, I finally get Hazel showered, and she convinces me to read her three different books before going to sleep. Then I go up to my room, where I try and fail to work. All I can think about is Sophia, and I'm as hard as a fucking rock.
I feel bad for wanting to get off to memories of her, but there's no way I'm sleeping until I get some relief. I turn on the shower and press my hands against the top of the counter as I brace myself, lean forward, and look at myself in the mirror.
She's too young for you.
You work together.
This would cross every professional line there is.
I run through the entire list of reasons why allowing myself to be with Sophia is a bad idea, and then I stomp over to the shower and slip into the stream of warm water.
I place my hand against the wall and fist my cock, pulling on it, hard and angry, like I don't deserve to get off, so I'll punish myself with the grip and pace.
Only that has me growing harder as I imagine what it would've felt like last night if I had shifted my hands to grab her hair and bent her over the outdoor table.
I'd have peeled those tiny athletic shorts down, the ones she's always wearing around the lot and here at the house, the ones where I can see the curve of her perfect ass peeking out of the bottom hem.
My feet would have kicked her legs apart, and I'd have run my hands over her ass.
Then my fingers would have slipped into her silky cunt, dripping wet for me.
My dick throbs at the image as I thrust harder into my hand, and when I imagine my dick slamming into her pussy, imagining her tightness choking me, I immediately see stars and spew all over the shower wall.
Hanging my head, I try to catch my breath.
I'm totally fucked.