Romance: Stepbrother On Top

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Romance: Stepbrother On Top Page 79

by A. Valentine


  He made a quick check of his chart before smiling at her again. “I’m sorry, Dr. Dempsey has not yet arrived, but I see here a note that she had called a half-hour ago to say she would be delayed and to see that you are seated at her table.” He stepped out from behind the podium and motioned. “If you will follow me, please?”

  “Thank you,” Erin said. She trailed him through the restaurant, past other diners at tables with pristine white linens, gleaming glassware, and polished silver. She took a seat at the spot Mom had reserved and looked around.

  A handsome young man with dark brown skin and cleanly shaved head appeared moments later, dressed all in black with the exception of a dark red silk tie. “Welcome to Boka,” he said, with a warm smile. The diamond stud in his left ear glinted in the low light. “Might I interest you in a beverage?”

  “A glass of Chenin Blanc would be wonderful,” Erin said.

  “I’ll get that for you right away.”

  “Thank you.” Erin pulled out her phone and sent a text message to her mother. At restaurant, waiting for you.

  A few moments later, she received a reply. On my way now.

  Thirty minutes and one glass of white wine later, Erin saw her mother come into the room. An attractive, statuesque woman in her early fifties, Marianne Dempsey carried herself with both grace and determination. Dad had always attributed it to her heritage, coming from Northern Italian stock. She had a light olive complexion, long face, and a narrow nose. Her thick black hair, normally worn up for work, now draped her shoulders in dark waves and in direct contrast with her white silk blouse. Erin had inherited Mom’s hazel eyes while her brothers had taken after her in height. The older woman spotted Erin and broke into a wide smile. Erin stood up to greet her as she approached. “Hi, Mom.”

  “Hello, honey.” Mom kissed her cheek, only to reach up immediately to wipe away what Erin knew would be a wine-red lipstick mark. They settled into their respective seats, Mom smoothing a hand over her black pencil skirt as she crossed her shapely legs at the knee. “Well!” Marianne smiled at her daughter. “You look wonderful, very healthy – and that is not just my professional opinion, either.”

  “You look pretty good, too,” Erin said, and meant it. Most women her mother’s age who also worked as hard as she did, always came across as much older. She often wondered if another reason her mother devoted so much time to her job had been due in part to some secret magical pact she had made that guaranteed her eternal beauty in exchange for long hours at the hospital. “So, what –“

  “Just a moment,” Mom said, cutting Erin off in mid-sentence as she turned to address the waiter who had just come back to the table. “A bottle of champagne, please,” she told him. She gestured to one of the four standard place settings. “And you can take that; there’s only the three of us, tonight.”

  “Three?” Erin echoed. “Who’s joining us?”

  Mom beamed at her. “Well, that’s the surprise I told you about.” She craned her neck, looking back toward the entrance, and then raised her hand to signal someone.

  Erin looked – and her heart seized in her chest from shock. Threading his way through the tables, dressed impeccably in a charcoal grey suit and a blue shirt that made his eye color pop, was none other than Michael. Everything seemed to slow down to a grinding crawl as he strode toward them. His gaze shifted from Mom to Erin, and his eyebrows inched upward while his grin faltered. He recovered, however, enough to lean down and share a lingering kiss with Mom. On the mouth. Erin blinked and everything resumed its normal speed, but she still found it difficult to breathe as she watched Michael settle into the chair closest to her mother and they linked hands. That’s when Eric saw the rings on Mom’s finger. “You got remarried?” she gasped out, when she could find the power to speak again.

  Marianne chuckled. “Yes. Erin, I would like you to meet Michael Kassmeyer. Michael, this is my daughter, Erin.”

  “Your mother’s spoken very highly of you, Erin,” Michael said.

  He reached across the table and Erin felt a sense of déjà vu as she shook his hand. How, in all of Chicago, in all places and of all times, had she managed to meet a married man who turned her on so much that she would wind up fantasizing about him while masturbating – only to find out hours later that the guy was her stepfather? Not only that, why was he acting like this was their first time ever meeting?

  Mom’s pager went off. Normally, that sound never startled Erin because she heard it so much she had grown selectively deaf to the noise. Now, she jumped as though she had been shot. Mom did not notice, too busy looking at the message. “Damn,” she muttered. She smiled at them as she pushed back her chair and stood up. “I have to make a call. I’ll be right back.” Excusing herself, she headed for the exit at a quick pace, already pulling out her phone.

  “Well, now, this awkward,” Michael said, breaking the silence that fell over the table in the wake of Mom’s departure. He looked at Erin. “I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you this morning. All the photos I’ve seen of you, you were much younger and you had longer hair. I remember Marianne saying her daughter was away at college studying Marine Biology, and this morning you told me you just got your degree, but I still didn’t make the connection.”

  “Did she ever tell you my name?” Erin asked dryly.

  “Yes!” Michael shook his head and huffed out an embarrassed laugh, reaching up to scratch at his neck just under his shirt collar. “I guess I just won the prize for Least Observant Person on the Planet.”

  “It’s not your fault,” Erin said. She found herself becoming increasingly irked at her mother. “I don’t understand why she never bothered to tell me she had someone new in her life.” She shook her head in frustration. “No, she just had to wait to tell me, after she got married – which is just like her, always hitting me with important news after the fact, like it’s all just trivial.” She gestured at Michael. “When did you two meet, anyway?”

  “Last year,” Michael said. “I was out with my mother and she started having chest pains. I took her to the closest hospital, which turned out to be Northwestern Memorial. Marianne was on duty. She examined her, determined that she was in the advanced stages of heart failure, and had her admitted.” He tapped the table with a fingertip. “Because of her, my mother received a heart transplant and is still alive to this day.”

  Erin snorted inwardly at this. “So your relationship is kind of a Florence Nightingale thing?” she asked, incredulous.

  “Not really. I spent a lot of time up at the hospital while waiting for a new heart to come in. One day, I asked Marianne to have coffee with me down in the cafeteria. We started talking, and found out we had a few things in common. After a month, I asked her out on a date.” He shrugged and showed his palms. “We went out together for a bit, and five months ago we got married.”

  “Why didn’t she take your last name?”

  “She said she wanted to keep ‘Dempsey’ because it was the name everyone knew her by, at the hospital. I saw no harm in it.” He looked around, no doubt checking to see if Mom would be returning anytime soon, before leaning in and lowering his voice to a conspiratorial level. “And I didn’t want to let on that we’d already met this morning, because your mom was really looking forward to surprising you.”

  “Well, she succeeded in doing that,” Erin muttered. She shook her head again and heaved a sigh. “I understand, though. You didn’t want to steal her thunder. That’s nice of you and I respect that. I’m okay with pretending that we didn’t meet until just now.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Just don’t expect me to start calling you ‘Dad,’” Erin said, pointing a cautioning finger at him. “That’s what I call my father.” And besides, it would just make things even more awkward and creepy, she added to herself.

  Michael smiled. “That’s fine,” he said. “I’m just happy that we can be friends. I still stand by that offer to put in a good word for you at the zoo.”

  “I still
might take you up on it, too,” Erin said. Friends, she thought. Okay, she could live with that…couldn’t she? She just had to train herself not to lust after him, to stop seeing him as attractive and start seeing him as off-limits. As her mother’s husband.

  Mom came back to the table. Immediately, Erin recognized that look of grim apology on her face. She could almost recite along with the next words to come out of her mother’s mouth. “I’m really sorry,” Marianne said. “There’s an emergency; one of my patients is having complications. I need to get back up to the hospital and take care of it.”

  While Erin had years of experience with this, she could see the look of disappointment that dulled Michael’s eyes. His smile faded for a moment, too, but he brought it back up. “It’s all right,” he said, reaching out to take her hand and give it a squeeze. “You do whatever you need to do.”

  “Thanks for understanding.” Mom leaned down. Erin had to look away but she could still hear the trading of soft kisses. “You two go ahead and have dinner. Take this opportunity to get better acquainted.” She smiled over at Erin. “Michael works at Lincoln Park Zoo, honey. You already have a lot in common, right there.”

  Yes, I know, Erin thought. That was the topic of discussion this morning over breakfast. “We’ll save you the doggie bag,” she said, cracking a joke in order to make light of the situation. She smiled when Mom bent over to kiss her cheek again, with lips that had just been locked with Michael’s. God, kill me now.

  “Call me when you’re done and I’ll come pick you up and take you home,” Michael told Marianne. Well, that might explain why Mom’s car had been in the garage: Michael probably had a vehicle of his own. He could have dropped her off at the hospital that morning, too, before driving down to the zoo and then walked over to the Pancake House for breakfast.

  “I will.” Mom smiled at each of them in turn, and wrinkled her nose in affection. “Have fun, you two.” And then she was gone.

  The waiter returned with the champagne and poured out two fluted glasses. Michael reached for his. Gazing at the bubbles climbing upward in the pale golden liquid, he let out a short sigh. “I admire her devotion to her job,” he remarked. “But sometimes I wish she would take a break.”

  Erin lifted her own glass to her lips. “Welcome to my world,” she murmured, and took a very large, hard swallow.

  Chapter Five

  “It’s been two weeks, and it’s still creeping me out,” Erin said to Corrine as they sat on opposite ends of a big, red velour sofa in the living room of her friend’s Rogers Park apartment. Erin liked the old brick walk-ups like this one, with all the dark, natural woodwork, crown molding, and mother of pearl inlay on the push-button wall light switches. They had the windows open to let in a pleasant, mid-June breeze. Summer may have started out unseasonably mild but every Chicagoan knew that it would not be long before the temperature started to rise and the city would get so hot it could feel like your shoes had become fused to the pavement.

  On her second day home, Erin had shown up on Corrine’s doorstep by way of announcing her return from California. Corrine had screamed so loud that neighbors on the floor above poked their heads over the staircase’s heavy wood railing to see what had happened before calling 911. It had been a much better homecoming than Erin received from her mother. The two friends, who had met in grade school, spent the entire day together. Erin had told Corrine about Michael, how they met and then later how she found out he had married her mother.

  “Mm-mm-mm,” Corrine hummed, shaking her head as she got up from the sofa and made her way toward the kitchen, wide hips swaying. She had always been very large, built like a linebacker for the Chicago Bears. When they had first started high school, some of the upperclassmen would make fun of them for being The Big Fat Black Girl and Her Little White Girl Sidekick. Erin’s Irish temper had a tendency to flare at the insults but Corrine would hold her back, saying that physical retaliation never achieved anything, and that keeping your chin up could be more intimidating. Erin long admired her friend’s deep intellect and calm manner. Corrine had always been a wise counsel, and Erin could count on her to be straightforward. “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: that is some seriously messed-up shit, right there.”

  “Tell me about it.” Erin cradled her head in her hand. “I think I’ve done pretty good, though, at convincing myself not to think of him as anything more than a member of the family. Even when he’s walking around the house in just a pair of jogging shorts, all bare-chested, with those rock-hard thighs and calves and big biceps…God!” She screwed her eyes shut and beat against her skull lightly with her fist. “Why did he have to be one of those sexy middle-aged guys? He’s eighteen years older than me, but twelve years younger than my mom.”

  “There’s a lot of social stigma about older women with younger guys,” Corrine said. After high school, she had enrolled at Northwestern with a major in Psychology with a minor in Women’s Studies; now working toward her doctorate, she found employment as a substitute teacher for middle school students. “Some people would call your mom a ‘cougar,’ which paints women as predators.” She returned with two bottles of Snapple lemon tea, and handed one to Erin who murmured her thanks before popping the cap. “But you don’t get that with men. Older guys can get away with dating younger women, even if they’re old enough to be the girl’s daddy, and no one ever bats an eye. This just goes back to those days when girls as young as nine could be married off to grown men. Today, that would be called ‘pedophilia’ and thank God there are laws now to protect children from that sort of thing, but that mentality is still there, even if the girl is considered an adult of legal age for consent.” She tapped her temple with one thick fingertip and nodded. “It’s all about feeding the male ego.”

  “Well, I don’t think Michael is that way,” Erin said. “He’s been really nice, friendly without being too friendly, just easy-going and funny and relaxed. And that was before he knew who I was. He’s still the same way. He never talks down to me or treats me like a kid – it’s like age isn’t even something he thinks about. He gives me the same respect now that he gave me when we first met. And I’ve noticed that he’s the same way with my mom.”

  “Respectful of women, regardless of age.” Corrine took a pull from her bottle and swallowed. “And he’s never put the moves on you?”

  Erin shook her head. “Not at all. He’s playful, but it’s not flirtatious. There’s a difference. He’s pretty devoted to Mom. Oh, and he cooks. Did I tell you that? On nights when Mom actually gets home in time for dinner, he’s got a meal ready and on the table. He said his dad used to have a restaurant and that he would help out after school and on weekends, which is where he learned to cook.”

  “Hold up,” Corrine said. “This guy doesn’t act like a dog around women, he’s got a great body, and knows his way around a kitchen?” She grunted in amazement. “Damn, girl. Your mom really scored, big time!”

  “I know, right?” Erin grimaced. “And you know what’s worse? She keeps encouraging me and Michael to spend time together. There was that night at Boka, where we wound up talking about his family’s restaurant and cooking. Apparently, Mom found out that he had offered to introduce me around at the zoo in hopes of finding a job for me there – she’s told me I should just go in to work with him and shadow him like an intern or something. She brought it up again this morning, and I finally had to tell her I’d go over there this afternoon just to get her off my back. I swear, it’s like I’m fifteen again and she’s pushing me to decide on which college I want to attend.”

  Corrine chuckled. “I remember that. It’s common with people who become fixated on their careers. Work is their drug of choice and they start trying to turn other people on to the high.” She smiled and jerked her chin at Erin. “You think you could handle working with a guy you think is hot, even if he is your stepdad?”

  “No,” Erin said, holding up her hand. “And please, do not say use those words in the same sentence
again. I don’t need the reminder.”

  “Maybe you should switch to taking cold showers,” Corrine teased.

  Erin reached behind her back for a throw pillow and lobbed it at her friend’s head. “I never should have told you about that,” she said.

  “You really need to stop letting that bother you,” Corrine said. “There is nothing wrong with fantasizing about someone who appealed to you, before you knew he was married to your mom. There’s nothing wrong with still thinking he’s attractive. I can look at several men in my family – biological relatives – and acknowledge their positive attributes. You don’t stop saying sunsets are beautiful just because you find out some of them are actually the result of air pollution. It is what it is.”

  “I know,” Erin said. “I keep telling myself that.”

  “Well, don’t just say it – start believing it, too.”

  Around two in the afternoon, Erin left Corrine’s place, bound for Lincoln Park. She had opted for a retro David Bowie t-shirt, a pair of jeans, and some good walking shoes. It would not be her first trip to the zoo. She had spent a lot of time hanging out there as a teen, taking pictures of the animals or just sitting across from an enclosure and observing both the beasts and the humans who stopped to look at them.

  She sent a text to Michael to let her know she had arrived. They had exchanged numbers at Boka, agreeing that they should have each other’s contact information now that they were “family.” Erin waited by the west entrance. She saw a machine that would stamp images on coins as souvenirs. She had always loved those, and had a collection of flattened pennies with pictures of animals and the zoo’s name printed on them which she had turned into charms for a bracelet. Seeing a new design among the choices, she could not resist. She dug into her pocket, searching through a small handful of change for two quarters – the cost to use the machine – and a penny for stamping.

 

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