Page 59 of More, Daddy
WDupont
Is he okay, by the way? I’m sorry for not asking when you mentioned him last night.
CCaine
He’s staying with me, at my house. And yeah, he’s okay. He’s just aging, that’s all.
I’m relieved already knowing that it’s nothing terminal, though I feel sorry for her that she is his caretaker. That’s a tiring job.
WDupont
Glad it’s nothing serious
CCaine
Me too.
But I do have to go.
WDupont
Would you like to talk again tonight? Later?
I realize I haven’t cleaned myself up, and while I wait for her reply, I find a clean towel in the bathroom and wet it. Back at the couch, I’m wiping up myself and my mess when her final message of the night comes through.
CCaine
I can’t tonight. Gotta go. Sweet dreams, Daddy.
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
All that shitI said about yesterday? Fuck it.
Today sucks, royally.
I thought not seeing Cadence was cruel and unusual punishment, but today? She’s goddamn near everywhere. Under my nose, a touchable distance away, within reach while being completely, totally and utterly off limits.
She walked past my office to get to Leah’s, not even so much as glancing my way. Fucking brat. I plan to mention that later tonight, and further down the road, when she’s ready to meet, and shewillget a swat on her cute littlebottom for it.
Now, in the break room—where I’m eating lunch because I know she eats in here and I am just that desperate—she’s standing at the microwave, watching her meal spin in circles as it heats. And I’m staring at the back of her ass, picturing my tongue going inside as she writhes beneath me, crying out, “No! Daddy! Not there!”
“Dude, you said you wanted to have lunch with us,” Dean says, driving his elbow into Riley’s, which knocks noodles free from her fork.
I look between them, tipping my plate of food at a fifteen degree angle. “I am.”
Dean leans in, dropping his voice as Riley twirls spaghetti on her fork and goes in for the kill. “You’re staring at Cadence’s ass,” he whispers. Sitting back, he eyes me as he bites into his overly full sandwich, pieces of Doritos and lettuce sticking out of the end.
“I wasn’t,” I lie, “I was just zoned out. I happened to be looking in that direction.”
Riley rolls her eyes. “It’s okay, you don’t have to pretend she’s not hot just because we’re friends.” She pats my shoulder, spaghetti sauce in the corners of her mouth. “That’s nice of you, but she’s hot, we all know it.”
My face twists with confusion. “Why would I pretend she’s not hot?”
Dean rolls his eyes. “Dude, if you’re gonna be in the friend group, you have to know what’s going on.” He sets down his monstrosity of a sandwich, sips his tiny can of soda and steeples his hands beneath his chin. “Okay, Riley and Cadence are enemies–”
“Frenemies,” Riley corrects, licking sauce from her plastic fork before going in for a meatball.
