Page 85 of Shattered Chords

“Yes.” Somehow, I couldn’t hide my smile when I thought about Dante in my living room, teaching my kid music.

“That’s the important part.” My mother set the tea back on the table and studied me for a bit. “If he’s kind to your daughter, you should hold on to him. You’ve got only a few good years left.”

My heart dropped to my stomach, sudden anger pulling me under like a cold tide. “You really went there, didn’t you? Your life won't be complete unless you marry me off.”

“I’m just thinking of you and Ally. You need a man.”

“Why? What for?”

“To take care of you.”

“I’ve been without a man all this time and have done great so far.” My voice pitched low and I pushed my chair away from the table because I had the urge to walk out on my mother.

“Honey.” Her face softened, which happened so rarely, I no longer remembered how she looked when she was tender. She reached for my hand from across the table and covered it with hers. “I only want you to be happy and loved. It’s a wonderful thing to have someone in your life to share it with.”

My fury subsided. “Then say it like that. Don’t scare me into jumping into bed with the first man available simply because I’ll start getting wrinkles soon. I don’t want to settle on some guy I don’t care about on account of my ticking biological clock.”I want to love the way you love Dad and the way he loves you. Unconditionally.

But, of course, I didn’t voice my thoughts.

My mother squeezed my hand one last time and let go. “How about you bring this musician of yours to the anniversary? I think Dad and I would like to meet him.”

This was my chance to tell her that we weren’t serious. We hadn’t even kissed yet, but he was in my house twice a week. Without fail. And I’d already agreed to be his date at his friend’s engagement party. So I said, “I’ll ask him.”

“Wonderful.” My mother beamed and returned to the printed report.

13 Dante

“Frankie-boy sure does live out in the boonies,” I murmured as I stared out the window from the back seat of my Navigator. The driver was taking us up a hill, the road curving and jumping ahead like a snake.

Camille was next to me, knees tightly pressed together, hands folded in her lap atop her miniature purse. When the car turned a sharp corner, she lost her balance and slid over to me. Our thighs touched.

“I’m sorry.” A small smile flashed.

“You can bump into me anytime, darlin’.” I laughed at her eccentric modesty. Right now, it didn’t suit her. Not in this goddamn dress. It was a chocolate-colored number made of the softest silk that hugged her body tight enough for me to assume she’d possibly worn a thong underneath. Her shoulders were bare except for thin straps and the skirt ended just above her knees.

She was wrapped like a piece of candy and I wanted her badly.

What else did I want?

To do things right for once.

That was the main reason we’d been playing this cat and mouse game for the past month.

And Ally, of course.

Who, like a true rebel, sat in the front and chatted with my driver.

Every night, as I lay awake alone in my bedroom and thought back to that charged moment in my pool house, when the energy snapped and roared through the air between us, I imagined things going in a completely different direction.

I imagined spinning Camille around, bending her over the couch, and fucking her into oblivion.

And I imagined her liking it and begging for an encore.

More often than never, these fantasies ended up with me jerking off. Which was funny because I couldn’t remember the last time I’d used my hand since there had always been an available mouth or pussy to stick my dick in...in my past life.

Where nothing but the next high mattered.

In my current reality, I was the owner of a body that had forsaken me. I had no choice but to eat right, sleep a lot, exercise regularly, and pretend that I didn’t crave another line or another shot.

---