Page 56 of Accidental Irish Daddy

“Fine,” I say. “As well as any married couple, I suppose.”

She nods. “You mean, as well as anyfakemarriage could go, right?”

I blink, and instantly, heat comes to my face. My first thought is to deny it. “Martha, I don’t know—”

“Oh, don’t insult my intelligence, dear. I know you a little better than that.”

I sigh and shake my head. I was a fool to think I could hide it from Martha forever. “Aisling and I decided that the fewer people who know the truth, the easier it will be to keep it secret.”

“Secret from whom? Your neighbors? Your father and his wife? No one’s that interested in your love life, dear.”

“Beg to differ,” I tell her. “There was a whole spread about it in People Magazine the week we were married if you recall. There’s a lot of vested interest in who a billionaire marries, you know?”

She scoffs. “Just the same. Fake or not, I’m glad you two are in each other’s lives. She’s good for you.”

I look down at my half cup of coffee and say, “Well, good or not, it doesn’t really matter. This arrangement is only going to last until she can afford her own place. Then she and Bridget will be out on their own as they should.”

Martha just stares at me, the ever-present smile on her face gone. It’s making me uncomfortable. “What?” I ask.

“You’re just going to let her leave you?”

“Well…of course, I am. Why shouldn’t I? It’s not like this is a real thing with real emotions attached. I don’t think of her that way, and I know she doesn’t think of me that way either.”

“Youknow? How do you know?”

“I just do,” I say in an annoyed tone. “And even if she was interested in me, I’m a thirty-three-year-old recovering addict. She’s in the prime of her life. What could I possibly have to offer a woman like her?”

She tsks and shakes her head. “All the money in the world and still you think you’re nothing. That has to be one of the greatest mysteries of the century.”

She gets up and takes her cup and saucer to the sink. She stands there for a moment, looking out of the window into the garden at Aisling and Bridget. “I don’t know whether or not you’re going to relapse, lad,” she says, “so I won’t do you the disservice of saying that you’re out of the woods forever. I do know that the best way to stay even is learning how to love yourself. I just wonder how long it’s going to take for you to love yourself as much as that girl does.”

I don’t have anything to say to that. She turns around and raises her eyebrows at me. “No good will come of lying to her about how you feel. The sooner you get on with it, the better off you’ll both be.”

She leaves me with that.

I help her clean in relative silence.

After, Aisling, Bridget, and I head back to the house. As we walk, Aisling nudges me.

“You okay? You look a little pensive.”

I am very much not okay…but she can’t know that. “I’m fine,” I say. “I think I ate a little too much, that’s all.”

She nods and doesn’t question me any further. That’s for the best.

This is all for the best, despite whatever Martha says.

***

It’s late and I’m in Aisling’s bed.

She’s on top of me, her hips moving slowly as she rides my cock.

I’ve got her hips in my hands, the feel of her soft, supple skin under my fingers.

The moonlight is coming in from the window and casting its rays on her alabaster skin and through her crimson hair.

She’s digging her nails into my chest and the stinging sensation mixed with the feel of her sweet pussy wrapped right around me is almost more than I can bear.

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