Page 41 of Dirty Husband
I swallow the words that rise up in my throat. I still can't talk about Mom. I can't face how much I miss her.
I turn to Dad. Try to place his expression.
It's pure parentalI'm waiting.
I clear my throat.
He makes anothermm-hmm. He stretches this one out, so it just barely hints of distaste.
"The truth is, the first time I saw him here, I knew. That I missed him. That I'd always love him. I tried to deny it. I tried to believe something else. I was too proud to admit it. It's not that I made a mistake. I was right to walk away. But things have changed. I need him."
Dad stares at me.
I go to sip my tea, but my cup is empty.
Dad takes it, fills it, hands it back.
I down it in one gulp. Shit, that's hot.
I try to wait for him to respond. For anothermm-hmmeven. But there's nothing.
When I can't take it anymore, I set my cup on the table, and look him in the eyes. "Are you going to say something?"
"Does he make you happy?"
"What?"
His voice softens. That paternal tone he used when I would hide under my bed, terrified of thunderstorms. "Does he make you happy?"
"Does Shep make me happy?" I repeat the question without thinking. It's absurd. When did Dad get all these American values? "What do you mean?"
"Jasmine, sweetheart, it's a simple question. Does he make you happy?"
But…
I…
He…
What?
Of all the questions he could ask, that was the last one I expected. I take a deep breath. Turn over the words. Does Shep make me happy?
He did once. Now? I barely know the man he's become. I only have the last forty-eight hours. The strange offer. The limo ride. The meeting at his office. That throaty dare.You're going to beg for my cock.
My sex aches. So not the time. And not what Dad means. But that is something I miss. Something I need.
There have been other men. I've tried dating since Shep. There was one guy my sophomore year of college. An artist who saw the beauty in the world. He took me to museums and shows and made me feel like some kind of creative goddess, even when I was reading lines for a 101 class.
I thought I loved him.
Then Dad got sick and things got hard and he couldn't deal. Or maybe I pushed him away. I'm not sure anymore.
Even when things were good, when I thought I loved him—
There was always something missing. The sex was good. But only good.
I didn't shake the way I shake at Shep's voice.
