I nod again and hold the phone in my free hand. I take another sip from the cup and set it down next to my hip. Daddy moves forward, spreading my legs with his body and his broad chest, chiseled even beneath the fabric of his shirt, and calls for my hand.
I lay it flat over his heart, feeling the soft beat underneath. Wondering how we could feel so much so fast.
“That’s all yours. Just so you know.” Rueger leans in and kisses me. Sweet and slow, his tongue sweeping over my bottom lip before entering my mouth. He tastes me, touching each of my teeth, before pulling back and kissing the tip of my nose.
I look down at my phone, and my stomach sinks. I know Daddy has to leave, but I desperately wish he could stay. We’ve just begun to discover what we are to each other, and I don’t want to be alone here. It feels like a home with us both here, but without him, it will just feel big and empty.
“I have to go, my sweet girl. You keep that phone with you. Call me for anything. I mean that. Anytime you need me. You don’t work until the day after tomorrow, so you just stay right here. Invite Heather over if you like. She’s always welcome. But you girls behave. Break the rules, and you’ll face the consequences, Babygirl.”
“Yes, Daddy.” I push out my bottom lip and wrap my legs around the backs of his thighs, pulling him close. “I don’t want to let you go.”
“I have to. I wish I didn’t, but I do. Now, don’t be bratty. Let Daddy’s legs go, princess.”
I grudgingly loosen my hold, and he kisses me once more before turning and grabbing his computer bag and kissing me goodbye.
“Just get over here,” I sob into my old flip phone. The iPhone Daddy gave me is on the bed upstairs, surrounded by condoms and the pictures of the brunette I found in his office.
“Jesus, get a hold of yourself, would you? I said I’m on my way. I had to stop at the butcher shop. I didn’t know it was a flippin’ emergency. Stupid Ricky took forever bringing my cutlets to the back. Keeps asking me about you.”
“How far away are you?” I press at my temples with my fingertips, too upset to care about stupid Ricky right now. “Tell me you’re close.”
“Five minutes. I’m peddling as fast as I can, Lexi. Coming around Delancy and Maple now.”
I push the curtains aside and crane my neck to see if I can spot her coming down the street on her bike, but I can’t.
“I’ll open the door, you can come straight in. I don’t know what to do. I can’t believe he’s got a wife.”
My heart is in my throat.
A few minutes later, she’s here, out of breath and holding on to the white waxed-paper package full of pork cutlets.
“Hey.” She pants. “Can I put this in the fridge?”
“Ugh. Yes, whatever, just listen.” I stomp toward the kitchen, and she follows. I grab the package from her, swing open the stainless-steel door and throw the meat inside the huge commercial refrigerator, knocking over a jar of pickles inside before slamming it shut.
“Okay, so… Jesus, a lot has happened in twenty-four hours. But what’s got your jammies in such a snit.” Heather fists her hand onto her hips. “And Jesus, speaking of jammies. What the hell are you wearing?”
“Follow me.” I don’t bother to respond to her fashion editorial. Instead, I ball my fingers into fists so hard my fingernails dig into my palms.
I take the stairs two at a time and plop down on the edge of the bed, waving a hand around to indicate the evidence strewn all over the sheets.
I look down at the handwritten note that turns my stomach.
“xoxoxo, Big boy. Miss me. See you soon.”
Heather’s hand comes out to finger the roll of condom packages, then she lifts up a few of the pictures before placing them back on the bed.
“It’s why he comes into town then he’s gone for a week or more, then back. I think he’s married. Or a girlfriend or something.” Tears flood my cheeks. I hate the evidence in front of me, can’t believe everything I felt from Rueger is a lie, but here it is.
After he left, I got nosy. That little voice inside my head poking at me. Telling me this is all too good to be true. So I went to Rueger’s office. Then around the house. It’s tastefully decorated but lacking in a homey feel. Nothing is out of place.
When I came back to the bedroom, I fought the urge, but I finally gave in, pulling open his dresser drawers and searching for something that stupid voice somehow knew I would find.
“Shit.” Heather holds up one of the pile of pictures of Rueger and the brunette, toasting with champagne. He’s wearing a tux, and she’s wearing what I would describe as a late-in-life-second-or-third-marriage wedding dress. Lace, but sleek. Fitted down over her hips. Low-cut in front with a pearl choker around her perfect, long neck. Rueger is smiling, his arms draped around her shoulder as her head leans into his chest.
I hate it. More than I hate Brussels sprouts.
A billion times more.