Pretend I'm YoursA Single Dad Romance

by Vivian Wood

  Suddenly I erupt, going over the precipice into a world of pleasure. He starts to come right after me, emptying lash after lash of his salty cum into my mouth, my throat.

  When we finally slow, I slide off his face, pushing myself upright. I finally get that moment I’ve been waiting for, watching him lick and wipe away the moisture from his mouth and chin.

  “That,” I say, nodding toward his damp face. I’m still a little breathless. “That is very hot.”

  His grin is wicked. “You think so?”

  “Yes,” I say, blushing.

  “Good. I’m glad you feel that way. Give me about… ten minutes? And you can feel it again.” He winks at me.

  I roll my eyes at him a little, but inside I know that he’s dead serious. I manage to turn myself around so I can lay sandwiched right next to him, with my head on his shoulder.

  I love Charlie, I think. I love him so much it makes me feel a little nauseous. I love him so much that I feel like my heart could leap out of my chest.

  I keep it to myself, though. Laying there on his shoulder, there are so many things I can’t say out loud… and that just numbers among them.

  Chapter Twenty

  Charlie

  Larkin smiles a little at how nervous I am at her driving. She’s cruising down the freeway toward an unknown destination, driving my car. It’s nothing short of beautiful outside. The terrain as we drive slopes gently but noticeably downward, though the density of the woods doesn’t diminish any.

  I glower at the passing scenery, wishing like hell I hadn’t agreed to come with Larkin without any questions.

  I glance in the backseat, checking on Sarah. “You okay?” I ask.

  Sarah smacks her lips, delighted at the plastic baggie of green grapes that Larkin gave her. She nods enthusiastically.

  “Relax,” Larkin says, touching my hand. “I am obeying the speed limit. I’m obeying every road sign. I’m being safe.”

  So was Britta, I think, glancing at her. She wasn’t even on the highway.

  But I clench my jaw and keep my thoughts to myself. Whatever happens, I am most definitely driving on the way back. We’ve probably only been driving for twenty minutes when Larkin signals and exits the freeway.

  The sign says that we’re going to Arch Cape, but that’s it. I roll down my window, and I can smell the tang of salt in the cool air. I can actually hear the roar of the waves when we take a right.

  Shit. We’re at the goddamned ocean.

  My whole body tightens and tenses as I hear Britta’s words echoing in my head. One day, I’ll take you to the Pacific Ocean.

  A promise unfulfilled. She told me that one day while she was pregnant, when I admitted to never having spent any time at the shore.

  I glance at Larkin, who is completely unaware of this. What am I supposed to tell her?

  Turn around, I’m not ready to confront this just yet?

  She pulls up to a small turnout, where three other cars are parked, and stops. There are still tall trees between us and the ocean, but if I squint I can just make out the yellow-white sand of the beach.

  Fuck fuck fuck. I am rigid in my seat, feeling frozen.

  “We’re here!” she announces, looking back at Sarah. “We’re at the beach, bug.”

  Sarah grins at the nickname. She grins pretty much every time Larkin uses it.

  Larkin reaches out and covers my hand with hers. “Ready?”

  No.

  But I nod anyway, mechanically unbuckling my seatbelt. Larkin gets out of the car, then takes Sarah out of her seat. I get out slowly, thinking what a picture the two of them make: Larkin in her pretty olive green dress, holding Sarah, cooing some terms of endearment to her.

  Were it not for their drastically different coloring, you would think that Sarah was Larkin’s mother by birth. The way that Larkin puts Sarah’s jacket on. The way that Sarah cracks up at Larkin’s jokes as Larkin bounces her on a hip…

  It seems like she’s been doing that forever, not just three months. Sarah is so little, she won’t even remember Britta. Her earliest memories will be of me and Larkin, holding hands.

  That fact weighs heavily on me just now.

  “We’re going to see the ocean!” Larkin tells Sarah. “The ocean is big, and blue, and it goes whoosh, whoosh!”

  Larkin looks at me. It’s obvious that she notices my expression and my wordlessness, but she doesn’t say anything. She just turns and starts heading for the path cut into the trees that will lead her to the beach.

  I trail behind, my inner dialogue a maelstrom of emotions. I’m angry. I’m depressed and distressed. I’m hopeful, but I also have that same black cloud hanging over my head.

  I follow Larkin, zipping my hoodie up an extra inch. There’s a brisk wind blowing down here, even now in the summer. We emerge from the trees, and there is the beach, with its miles and miles of sand, stretching out to my left and my right.

  Even more impressive is the ocean, a mercurial blue-gray-green beast, stretching out as far as I can see. The surf sprays a fine mist of salt water into the air, while farther out the waves clash together rhythmically.

  Larkin puts Sarah down, squatting beside her.

  “Look at this,” she says. She takes a fistful of sand and slowly pours it out.

  “Again!” Sarah demands, seeming unsure how sand works.

  Larkin obediently cups her hand and scoops up another bit of sand, then pours it out. Sarah squats and puts her hand in the sand, then experimentally copies what Larkin did.

  Larkin looks over at me, her brows lowering. “Do you maybe want to come introduce your daughter to the ocean?”

  I feel my cheeks heat. I grudgingly walk over to them, kneeling at Sarah’s side. Sarah looks up at me, her little face glowing with excitement. She grabs a handful of sand, replicating the trick that she just learned.

  “Very cool,” I say. “Look at this.”

  I build a little wall of sand, shaping it with my hands. Sarah isn’t interested, though. She turns her head, looking at the ominous sea.

  “Maybe try to show her again when we’re closer to the water,” Larkin says, trying to be helpful. “I don’t think the sand is sticky enough over here.”

  I rise, clapping my hands to get the sand off. “Come on, let’s go see the ocean.”

  I offer Sarah my hand, and she takes it. Larkin hangs back a few steps, letting us have a moment alone. I appreciate it, even as it makes me angry and sad.

  Here we are, at the ocean, a place I would’ve probably never thought to bring Sarah by myself. And yet the woman that brought us here is staying back a bit, not wanting… what? For Sarah to correlate the ocean with someone random?

  And here I am, letting her. Not saying anything. Because I want Sarah’s first experience to be pure, yes. But also, because I am a fucking coward.

  I resent Larkin just a little for not pushing, for not taking Sarah by the other hand and walking steadily toward the sea. I also resent the fact that we’re here at all. If that doesn’t describe perfectly the catch twenty two between us, there is nothing that could.

  I get angry at Larkin for not growing tired of me, not throwing me over and saying ‘fuck it’. I get angry at myself for being angry at Larkin. It’s a big fucking mess, and I don’t know how to straighten it out.

  So I stay silent in my angst, and lead Sarah down to the water’s edge. I let her observe the water, then lead her just a step in. She watches the water fleeing, then watches it come back in.

  “S’wet!” she screams when it kisses her shoes. “S’wet!!”

  “Yes, it is wet,” I agree.

  Sarah looks so betrayed by the water, I have to chuckle. She runs away a couple of steps, then trips and falls on the uneven sand. She lands on her knees, and seems surprised that it didn’t hurt.

  She cocks her head, and I can see the inner gears turning at a furious pace. I glance at Larkin, who is waiting patiently behind us. I walk back to where she is standing, hugging her.

&n
bsp; “I’m sorry I was being a jerk,” I whisper in her ear. I turn back to be able to see Sarah, who is discovering that wet sand is a totally different creature than dry sand.

  Larkin slips an arm around my waist and hugs me, but she’s silent. God damn it. That probably means that I hurt her feelings, which both was and was not my intention.

  I never want to hurt Larkin. I feel like a piece of garbage every time I think about the fact that in my situation, I’m basically bound to hurt her.

  “Thanks for bringing us here,” I say, looking at her.

  She sort of half-smiles and puts her head on my shoulder. I kiss the top of her head, feeling like a total tool.

  We stand like that for a while, then make our way over to sit near Sarah. I start constructing a half-assed sand castle. Larkin keeps Sarah entertained by her constant stream of observations, most of them about seagulls and the sand.

  We stay down by the water for about an hour, until Sarah has tired herself out. Then I grab a couple blankets from the car and we make a little pallet between us higher up the beach, where it’s nice and dry.

  Once Sarah falls asleep, soothed by Larkin’s back rubs, I feel like I can talk. I glance at Larkin, her hand on Sarah’s back as she sleeps.

  I owe her an explanation. I owe her something.

  “I was supposed to come to the Pacific Ocean with Britta,” I say. “We planned it, but never got the chance to come out here.”

  Larkin looks up, a little surprised. “You were? I had no idea.”

  “Yeah,” I say, wrinkling my nose. “It feels weird to be here without her. I mean, I guess I have to get used to the idea of doing all kinds of things without her now. I can’t just go forever pretending the Pacific Ocean doesn’t exist, you know?”

  She nods, looking thoughtful. “That makes sense that you would be sort of melancholy, though.”

  I heave a sigh, picking up a pebble from the sand. I turn it over and over in my hand, feeling its’ smoothness and heft.

  “It’s just… you know, there are a thousand activities and places like this. A thousand tiny sand traps, waiting for me to forget and then get sucked down in the muck when I do.”

  Larkin doesn’t respond to that, not that I expected her to. She just keeps up her rhythmic rubbing of Sarah’s back, rocking slightly. We lapse into silence, and it stretches between us.

  I close my fist around the pebble. It is reassuringly firm under the grasp.

  “I have been forgetting about Britta for hours at a time,” I admit, looking off into the distance. “I realized a few days ago that I hadn’t thought of her for an entire day.”

  Larkin stops rubbing Sarah, and glances up at me. “That’s heavy.”

  “Very,” I agree, leaning back on my elbows. “I know that it’s a sign of progress, of moving on. But I can’t help but feel like I’m betraying her somehow. I try to do that thing where I think, ‘what would Britta have wanted? Would she have wanted you to mourn her this long?’ but…”

  I shake my head. “She had a pet squirrel when I first met her, in college. She rescued it when she was in high school, and kept it for years. It lived a long, healthy life. And then it died, about three years before Sarah was born. The week before she died, she told me she didn’t want to get a puppy or a kitten because she was still too sad over the damned squirrel. Three years she mourned that thing, and she said it wasn’t enough. So…” I shrug. “How can I be thinking of letting her go so soon?”

  Larkin knots her fingers in her lap, looking down at them.

  “I don’t know,” she says faintly. Then she gives me half a smile. “She sounds like someone I really would’ve gotten along with.”

  I nod. “She was amazing.”

  She takes a deep breath, looking out at the horizon. I try to imagine what could be running through her head. Probably trying to calculate whether I will ever be able to commit to her. Or worse, she’s already decided that I can’t or won’t, so she’s trying to figure out how long she’ll let this go on.

  I reach out to take her hand, twisting her fingers with mine. Larkin looks at me with a grim smile.

  “It’s beautiful out here,” she says.

  I look at her, her gorgeous hair brightened by the sun and ruffling in the breeze. She’s so small-boned, but strong. Her shoulders are slight but they are ramrod straight. Her olive green dress brings out her eyes.

  A little voice in my head says, go ahead and tell her what she deserves to hear. Say I love you. Everything will be forgiven.

  But a bigger part of me knows better. It knows that once I say those three little words, the game changes. Everything is heightened, the stakes are so much higher.

  And I’m barely playing at this level, if I’m honest.

  So I just say, “The view from right here sure is breathtaking.” She glances at me, colors, and laughs.

  “You’re awful,” she says.

  “You like it, though.” I wink at her.

  She leans in for a kiss, and the moment where it would’ve made sense to say those three words slips away into the saltwater-tinged breeze.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Charlie

  “Shhhh,” I tell Larkin, letting her in the front door. I close the door softly behind her. “Sarah just went down for a nap. We’ll have to be quick.”

  “Doesn’t she usually nap for at least an hour?” she says, giving me a curious look. I take a step back, noticing her soft-looking magenta dress. I’m just dressed in my usual black, but Larkin looks fucking spectacular.

  Who am I kidding? She always looks spectacular.

  I bite my lower lip and touch the dress. It is indeed as soft as it looks.

  “Yeah, but I don’t see how we are going to fit two sessions into an hours, let alone the three that I have planned out in my head,” I explain. She grins.

  “We’ll see.”

  Larkin stands on her tiptoes to kiss me, wrapping her arms around my neck. I pick her up by the waist, carrying her backward to the living room. I’ve been making an effort to have her on every piece of furniture; today, the only thing left downstairs that we haven’t fucked on is an ugly pastel-printed chair.

  I deposit her on the chair, with her giggling. “You’re always in a rush!” she accuses.

  I pretend offense at that, drawing back. “You drive me to it!”

  “Ha ha,” she says, reaching for me. I give in and sink to my knees in front of her, kissing her with all the passion that has been simmering for me since I saw her last night.

  As I cup her face, shaping her lips with mine, those three words spring to my lips.

  I love you.

  I know it. I feel it with such intense certainty that it’s hard not to just blurt it out. I’m not a patient man. But I don’t say it; I think that would ruin the month of preparation and anticipation that has lead to this moment.

  But I have a plan.

  What she doesn’t know is that I am going to say them to her at some point tonight. I’m going to say it, and I’m going to trust that the two of us can figure out what the appropriate next step is together.

  Because that’s what couples do. Figure things out, together.

  I kiss her for all I am worth. Tenderly, because Larkin is an amazing, deep, and fragile creature.

  She stirs against me, pressing her body to mine. Then, she freezes, looking over my shoulder. “Shit.”

  I whip my head around and see Sarah only six feet away, staring at us. She has a pouty expression on her face.

  “Ffffff—” I say, pushing myself away from Larkin. Telling Sarah about us is a step, but we’re not ready for this yet. “Sarah, aren’t you supposed to be napping?”

  “No tire,” she says, folding her little arms over her chest.

  Larkin clears her throat and stands up. “Do you want me to help tuck you in?”

  “I don’t think that’s really what is called for,” I say emphatically. I’m more than a little annoyed that Larkin offered without asking me first.


  Sarah walks over to Larkin on her stubby little legs, still pouting. She reaches her arms up to Larkin, who picks her up.

  “Read?” Sarah asks Larkin.

  Larkin worries her bottom lip, glancing at me. I’m still irritated, but I wave her on. “Go ahead.”

  Larkin fixes me with a look, a we’re gonna have a fight about this later but I won’t say anything now in front of the kid look. I sigh as they head upstairs, and slump onto the paisley-printed chair.

  Not only did I just get cock blocked, but now I have to worry about what to tell my little girl. Larkin is more than a friend, that’s for sure. But how much more?

  Do I envision a future where I put a ring on her finger one day?

  Yes.

  At least, I hope that we will share a future. It makes me all kinds of uncomfortable to admit it, but Larkin is my weakness. There isn’t a lot I wouldn’t do for her, and there isn’t a lot I don’t imagine for the coming days.

  Just… not yet.

  I can’t bring myself to take her hand, to be committed. Just as I can’t bring myself to fully let Britta go. I’m on a precipice, and the ground is crumbling away beneath my feet, but I’m still paralyzed.

  So what is the actual problem? Is it indecision? Is it just me being afraid?

  Wham wham wham wham wham. Someone bangs on the front door, which startles me. I glance at my watch as I rise. It’s three thirty, the middle of the afternoon. I don’t remember ordering anything to be delivered, either.

  I stride to the front door and swing it open. To my surprise, Helen is standing there, with two big guys dressed in black behind her. She’s wearing a spotless white pantsuit, and she looks triumphant as she hands me a blue sheaf of papers.

  I just stare at her for a second before I reach out and take them. I don’t open them, though.

  “Helen,” I say, narrowing my eyes at her. One of the two men adjusts his pants, and I can see a gun and holster on his belt. “I can see you didn’t feel the need to call first before you came over. Why did you bring armed guys here, exactly?”