Page 13 of Fake Daddy

“Every day for the rest of our lives,” he vows just before breakfast arrives with two fresh cups of coffee.

“I like that,” I say as Cort feeds me a piece of bacon.

“Good.” He nibbles my ear. “Because Daddy always gets what he wants.”

Shivering in his lap, I feel feverish and needy. Anticipation is part of the fun, though, and now I can’t wait to get off work so I can spend another night in Cort’s arms.

Walking into the house after being dropped off, I had hoped to avoid my dad before he went off to work. Today is not my lucky day.

“Good morning.” He grins like he’s won the lottery. “Coffee?”

Most parents would be concerned about who I was with. Not my dad, no sir, this man has been dying for me to start dating.

“Morning, Dad. Sorry, I didn’t call.” I had texted him before Cort and I fell asleep, but I didn’t give many details.

“You’re a grown woman. You don’t need to check in all the time.”

“I know I don’t have to.” I accept the cup from him. There’s never too much coffee for early mornings like these. “But I like letting you know I’m safe.”

After my suicide attempt, we checked in hourly. Over the years, it’s become daily if we don’t see each other. My being out all night is completely new for both of us.

“I appreciate your consideration, sweetheart.” We sip our coffees in silence for a few minutes before he asks. “Is he serious?”

“He could be.” A dreamy sigh passes my lips, and he raises a brow.

“What’s the man’s name?”

I pause with the cup at my lips.

I’ll have to tell him eventually, might as well be now. “Uhm, I don’t want you to be mad. And I need you to understand it happened by accident.”

“This doesn’t sound good.”

He places his coffee on the island counter between us and waits on me.

“He’s older. Eighteen years older, I think. He’s a single dad with two teenage sons. His ex-wife is the reason we even met.” I pause. “Again.”

“Again?”

Clearing my throat, I spit it out. “It’s Cort Baker, Dad.” I watch as he takes a second to recall who I mean, and when the name hits, about a thousand emotions flit across his face–anger, denial, disgust. “We were never that close,” I whisper, my voice shaking, hating his disapproval.

“I’m going to need a minute with this one, Darling.”

Darling.

It’s always sweetheart, or kiddo, or honey. I know when he uses my given name, he’s disappointed in me, and I’ve spent a lot of years avoiding that.

“I’m sorry, Dad.”

Placing my cup down, I head upstairs to shower and avoid him until he leaves, before throwing my clothes in the washer and taking a short nap. I have to be at the salon for one, but I might go in earlier to keep my mind off the crushing weight of my dad’s discontent.

This has been a day of one drawback after another. Leaving Cort when I wanted to stay with him. Having Dad upset with me. And my blow dryer at work decided to go on the fritz, blowing the breakers throughout the entire salon while smoking from the fan.

We had to call the fire department just in case there was an electrical fire behind the walls. Better safe than sorry, right? I even had two firemen secretly hand me their numbers as they left. That was an odd feeling, as well. I’ve never had that happen before.

Linda pops her head into the laundry room as I’m pulling out the towels I need to fold. “You’re good alone?”

“I am. Go, enjoy dinner with Dan.”

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