Page 27 of Claiming His Reunion Obsession

He looks away, nodding. He’s not bitter or mad. But I know he’s hurt. Just the hurt a father feels when his little girls is all grown up. The hurt a man feels when he finds himself alone in the world again after he’s told himself for his child’s lifetime that they have it all together to share, forever.

His forever is mine now. Chelle belongs to me. We belong to each other.

“Now!” I command him, “I want you to come at me and hit me properly, don’t slap me like a damned child. If you wanna break my nose, then come on over here and break my fuckin-”

He breaks my nose, and three ribs. He spares my teeth and I thank him for that quietly.

“That’s better,” I growl, holding my side and trying to breathe. Randy’s pumping his hand open and closed, which he then offers to me and I’ve never been so glad to shake my friend’s hand in my whole life.

“You need a grandpa in this… family of yours?” he says, smiling between what’s left of his tears. I can tell he feels better for having hit me properly, I knew he would and I also know I’m not allowed to hit him back. That’s just how it is between us.

“Sure, we need a grandpa… and you need a lift!”

“What?” he says, looking puzzled, Chelle screaming out as she enters the room, rushing over to me, I’m smiling through a beard and mustache of my own blood, hunched over and wheezing bubbles of red.

“Unless I can interest you in a condo?” I ask him, “You drive yourself down here to punch me out, now how are you gonna get home?” I ask him, chuckling.

“Daddy, what did you do! I told you not to…!” Chelle chides her dad. Lifting my head up as I wince, poking and prodding like any good doctor would, making me cry out like a little girl.

“Ow! That hurts. Chelle. Jesus!”

It hurts more than when Randy hit me, but it’s worth it. I know I’d take a thousand more, even if it was just for one more minute in Chelle’s arms.

Chapter Twenty-One

Chelle

Wear your old prom dress that you wore to the reunion as a wedding dress they said, it’ll be fun they said.

Quinn said. Right after he proposed, right after my dad broke his nose and I didn’t care that he was bleeding and kissed him anyway.

It sealed the deal with my dad, proving to him that Quinn is indeed a man of honor and swears to look after me every day for the rest of my life. What better way to show my dad that then to marry me?

“But does it have to be in that dress?” I whine, months later as we watch the view from the penthouse. Quinn did some re-financing and had a word with the owner, he also sold the rest of the vacant condos at a premium, making for a very happy owner who sold his investment at a profit, and made us both very happy condo owners. Top two floors.

“In case we have people come stay…” Quinn always says now, and always winks at my dad when he does.

“I want to see you like I did that night, like I want to every damned night,” he growls, biting my neck and shamelessly cupping my chest, trying to fish out one of my boobs so he can have his way with me all over again.

Our wedding planning nights have always ended in what he likes to call ‘honeymoon practice’ which is fine, and will certainly speed up the baby making, but I’m trying to plan a damned wedding here, not a world record attempt at continuous single entry by the world’s most sexy man.

Quinn insists we have a traditional wedding, all except the dress. He wants me in the same lilac dress I wore at the reunion, as well as the bridesmaids, which we don’t even have. Dad volunteered for a lilac suit, just to see the look of horror on my face and I promptly pleaded with Quinn to have any other color, any other dress, but he’s stood firm on that.

Very firm, every time I bring it up. There’s something about that damned dress, I’m not sure he’ll be able to walk down the aisle without a raging hard on.

“Alright, alright!” I finally concede, “but I have to have it adjusted… A lot…”

And dry cleaned…

Quinn kisses me hard, intently and with extra passion.

“What’s that for?” I ask him, not minding in the least. Every kiss is special, like our first, but every now and then he plants a real… well. A real ‘pow’ on my kisser.

“That’s for making me so happy, for wearing the dress I love you in on our big day. Even though you don’t seem to like it for some reason,” he quips, smiling to himself.

---