Page 1 of Her Possessive Daddies

1

ABBIE

The aroma of freshly ground coffee beans fills my nostrils as I push open the door to The Daily Grind. My boyfriend Chandler’s blowing up my phone, asking if I'm here yet. Three years together and I can count on one hand the number of times he's initiated meeting somewhere that wasn't a bar or his apartment for a quick lay.

I spot him at a corner table, scrolling through his phone. He hasn't noticed me yet, giving me a moment to study him. His perfectly styled hair and designer clothes scream "trust fund baby," but something's different today. His jaw is tighter than usual, his posture rigid.

"Hey," I say, sliding into the seat across from him. "What's going on? This is different."

"What do you mean?" He barely glances up from his phone.

"You. Here. Actually making plans." I shrug off my jacket. "Usually I'm the one dragging you to coffee shops or out for dinner."

"Can't a guy want to see his girlfriend?" His tone carries an edge I can't quite place.

"Of course." I fidget with the sleeve of my sweater. "Just unexpected, that's all."

The barista approaches with two drinks - my usual caramel latte and his black coffee. He must have ordered ahead.

"Thanks for ordering," I say, wrapping my hands around the warm cup. "Everything okay? You seem..."

"What? I seem what?" His eyes finally meet mine, challenging.

"I don't know. Tense." My stomach twists into a painful knot.

I take a long sip from my cup, sitting back in my chair. The caffeine does nothing to ease the growing anxiety between us.

"I need coffee through an IV after last night's study session," I say, feeling the fatigue of last night's late work. My psychology textbook had kept me company until three AM, and my brain feels like it's swimming through molasses. "That developmental psych exam is going to kill me."

Chandler runs his fingers through his disheveled hair, wincing at the movement. Dark circles shadow his eyes, and his complexion is a little gray around the edges. "Try being me right now. The guys threw this rager at The Loon. Lost count of the shots after midnight."

"Sounds about right." I hide my disdain as I look out the window. Three years of watching him stumble through life on his father's dime, and nothing's changed. "Did you at least have fun?"

"Always do, babe." He pulls out his phone again, thumbs flying across the screen. "Dad's credit card took another hit though. VIP section, bottle service - you know how it goes."

My textbook receipt for three hundred dollars burns a hole in my wallet while he casually mentions dropping thousands on a single night. "Must be nice."

"You should've been there. Why weren't you there again?"

I suppress an eye roll. "Night class, remember? The ones I've been taking for the past year?" The ones I mention every time he asks me to drop everything for another party.

"Right, right. That psychology thing." He waves his hand dismissively, then grimaces and presses his fingers to his temples. "God, my head is killing me."

Same old Chandler. While I'm counting pennies and burning midnight oil for my degree, his biggest concern is nursing another hangover. But I swallow the words sitting on my tongue. What's the point?

The silence between us stretches like a rubber band ready to snap. Chandler keeps checking his phone, his thumb scrolling endlessly while I count the coffee rings on our table.

"Chan, let’s be real, why did you call me this morning? What's up?"

He sighs, looking more annoyed than anything else. "I think we need to talk."

My stomach drops. "About?"

"Us." He leans back, crossing his arms. "You've changed."

"Changed?" What the fuck is he talking about?

"Yeah. Remember when we first started dating? You were fun. Always up for anything. Now it's all 'I can't, I have class' or 'I need to study' or whatever."

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