Page 155 of Until I Own You

“To put it bluntly.”

My stepfather laughs, one of his babbling brook giggles.

I’ve always liked Solomon, but I think I might love him. He will never be my father. But he is Bridget’s. And as he is an extension of her, I love him. For raising the love of my life. Because I have no doubt she is my one. My only.

“I don’t blame you,” Solomon says. “I mean, it’s a strange situation from the outside, but my priority has always been the happiness of you kids and your mother, so what reason is there to be bothered?”

I smile. “Did my mother say something to you about this?”

Solomon gets to his feet and heads for the door. He claps his hand on my shoulder as he passes my chair. “No, of course she didn’t,” he says, his tone indicative that he’s lying.

I suppose this is a good lesson in loyalties.

“Solomon,” I say before he exits the office.

He turns, quirking his bushy eyebrows.

“Thank you. For…I’ve always known my mother is lucky to have you. But I am very lucky to have you too. I’m sorry it’s taken me this long.”

Solomon purses his lips into a smile, eyes growing watery. “Now, come on, we almost got out of this without tears, Seth.”

I laugh. Together, we return to the kitchen. My mother has drawn her chair closer to Bridget so she can calm her nerves, I’m sure.

Bridget’s eyes shoot to me, then to her father, and back to me. “Is…everything okay?”

Solomon sits down in his spot. “You and I are going to have a talk about lying by omission, young lady,” he says, a teasing lilt in his voice.

Bridget is too high-strung to catch his meaning at the moment. Still her eyes search for confirmation.

“We’re good,” is all I muster to quell her nerves.

Those two words send her shooting out of her chair and right into my arms.

Polite, sweet Bridget Vance plants a kiss to my lips right in the kitchen of our parents’ home which sounds so fucked up, but by this point I’m so far beyond the optics of it, I can’t be bothered.

She pulls away, her eyes swimming with sparkles, and mouth spread into a wide grin.

“So, can I finally take you on a date?” I ask, for some reason still buzzing with nerves.

“Of course.” She leans her body into me, wrapping her arms around my waist.

Solomon clears his throat. “Ahem.”

Bridget flips around and retreats to her father. “Thank you, Daddy. Thank you so much.”

Solomon accepts a kiss to the cheek, patting her back. “I’ve already warned him if he ever hurts you–”

“Solomon,” my mother snaps at him.

He grins. “I have to play the part at least a little, Mimi.”

She shakes her head, then holds her hand out to me. “Come sit.”

I join them.

We talk late into the night around the table, polishing off a bottle or two of wine. Laughing, reminiscing, hoping.

For the first time at a family dinner, there is never a lull, never a moment of awkwardness or strangeness. Because for the first time, there are no secrets.

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