Pretend I'm YoursA Single Dad Romance

by Vivian Wood

  I look at my father and see the older version of myself. Hopefully, a little bit wiser too. I suck in a breath. I don’t really know what I’m going to say, but I decide to trust my dad with my confidence.

  Besides, there’s nothing that says I have to take his advice.

  “Uhhh, it was… it was pretty nasty. We argued about Helen suing for custody, sort of.”

  “What do you mean, sort of?” he asks.

  I wince, replaying it in my head. “I assume that you know that Larkin and I have been… spending time together.”

  He just nods.

  “Well, we… spent time together… at her house. Then I said that I was going to spend the night at my own house. She got on my case about it, and said that I’ve been giving her the cold shoulder ever since Helen dropped the lawsuit on me.”

  “And?” he asks. He hunts around in the cabinets for tea bags, and plops one in each mug. “Are you?”

  “Not intentionally,” I say. I squint. “I don’t know, maybe.”

  The kettle starts to whistle, and Dad takes it off the stove. He pours boiling water into the two mugs.

  “It sounds like you know that you’re wrong.” He looks up at me.

  “Well, it got worse.” I run a hand through my hair. “I might have suggested that we cool things off until the lawsuit is over…”

  He whistles. “That is… that’s bad.”

  “Then she accused me of using Helen’s lawsuit as an excuse because I don’t actually want to date.” I grimace. “And the worst part is, I’m not even sure that she’s wrong.”

  Dad picks up one of the steaming mugs and hands it to me. It’s got a faded cartoon on one side, but I can’t make it out. I look down into it, and find brown tendrils of tea coming from the tea bag.

  “Sounds like you have some serious soul searching to do,” he says. He blows on his tea for a second, but doesn’t sip it yet. “You need to decide which side of the fence you’re on, I think.”

  I look down at my Converse. “You want me to choose between two women? I’m worried that it’s impossible.”

  Dad looks thoughtful. “Come on, let’s go outside.”

  He doesn’t wait for me, just picks up his mug and goes out the sliding glass door that leads to the patio. There is a little covered area there, with two lawn chairs. He sits down in one, sighing.

  I sit down in the other, unsure that the chair can even support my weight. It holds though, and I set my tea on the ground. I look at my dad, who is sipping his tea experimentally. He makes a satisfied slurping sound, then looks at me.

  “You know, I was still with your mother when I met Rosa,” he says. “I mean, I hadn’t shared a bed with her in years. I’d moved into the garage. But I was still married to your mom.”

  My jaw dropped a little. “I don’t remember that!”

  “Your mom was fun and caring and so inspired. When we met, we were both artists, you know.”

  This is news to me. “I don’t know. My earliest memories don’t really have you in them.”

  Dad nods. “Yeah. Your mom was a great artist, but she was also bipolar. It gave her this great energy, she really could draw people in… but then she would get too manic, and do crazy stuff. One day I came home, and your mom had painted all the walls red. She said it was to protect the family, or some shit. Anyway, your memories probably come from after Diane drove me out.”

  I frown at my dad.

  “You left because you met Rosa?” I clarify.

  “No, not exactly. I met Rosa because she was a cashier at the grocery store. She was always nice to me, and she doted on you and your brother. I got tired of living on your mother’s roller coaster of emotions. ‘Is today going to be good, or is today going to suck?’ And there was Rosa, who was so nice to me. She didn’t know how much I drank, partially to cope with your mom, partially just because.”

  He stops, and sips his tea, then continues.

  “When Rosa found out that I was still married, she refused to have anything to do with me. So I went back to Diane and I told her about the date, that I had gone because I was so miserable. Could we please work on things between us, so that it would be better?”

  “I’m guessing that it didn’t work out,” I say flatly.

  “We tried. We went to therapy, we went to retreats. We even tried an open marriage. All of it went fine, until your mother went off her medications. Then I would come home and your mother would’ve dragged the dishwasher outside and burned it. Or that one time, when she sold her car, which was the only one that you kids’ seats would fit in. Shit like that.”

  “That sounds tough,” I say, squinting. “I don’t remember any of that.”

  “Yeah. Eventually I had to make a hard decision. I’m not saying that it’s exactly like the one you’re facing, but it’s not too terribly dissimilar either. Eventually, I did leave, obviously. And I only got super part-time custody, when your mother felt like it. That was the roughest part, for me.”

  He slurps his tea, then looks at me.

  “I’m sorry,” I say.

  “The point of the story wasn’t for you to feel sorry for me. The point was, every major change or upheaval in your life causes pain. It’s like growing pains, sort of. That’s why you have to decide if you’re gonna grow and change and be hurt… or you’re just going to stagnate and eventually die. There are only those two options.”

  I blow out a breath. “I know. I know I have to choose. In fact, I know who I should choose. It’s just…”

  I trail off, and Dad nods. “It sucks. It sucks for Larkin probably more than it sucks for you, because she has to sit by and watch you hurt. She doesn’t strike me as the type to sit idly by.”

  “That she is not.”

  He chuckles, then slaps my knee.

  “Charlie, I have to go get comfortable inside on the couch. You stay here as long as you’d like, though. Think about what I said.”

  I give him a half-smile. “I will. Thanks for the advice.”

  As he goes inside, I look out into his backyard. It’s nothing to write home about, just a few scrawny trees. But it gives me a good space to stare into blankly while I try to process what my dad just said.

  I spend a good half an hour out there, with the same thoughts going around and around in my head.

  Britta or Larkin? The vows I made, or the ones I want to make? The past or the future?

  When I stand up, gathering my untouched tea, I’ve made my decision.

  Now I just have to pray that it’s not too late.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Larkin

  I am lying in my bed, still furious. I cried for almost an hour, but now I’m steaming in silence. I can’t fall asleep, no matter how long I lie here, staring at the ceiling. I roll onto my side, sighing.

  I keep hearing Charlie’s words over and over again, jumbled around in my brain.

  But it might be what you need.

  The anger simmering in his eyes when he said that, the fierce conviction of his words… they give me chills, hours and hours afterward.

  If Charlie really feels that way, I’ll have to let him go. There’s no other choice, not really. But the thought of letting him and Sarah go… of never seeing either of them again, or worse — seeing them from a distance — it crushes me.

  I thought I was all cried out, but tears bloom anew in the corners of my eyes. A life without Charlie almost isn’t worth living.

  I hear a banging sound coming from downstairs, though it’s faint. Maybe I left one of the windows open, and the shutter is blowing in the wind?

  I sit up and wipe the tears from my eyes, then throw back my blankets. I hurry down the stairs barefoot, annoyed at my earlier self, who apparently thought it was a good idea to leave the window open.

  Bang bang bang. The sound is almost too rhythmic for a shutter. I scowl, my brow hunching low over my eyes.

  When I get downstairs though, I see a figure in all black banging on the front door. I can’t see the
figure’s face through the stained glass. Who is banging on my door at this hour?

  “Larkin!” Charlie cries, banging again. “Come on, open up!”

  I run to the front door and fling it wide. I look up at Charlie with a suspicious expression. He looks back down at me, breathing hard, as if he’s just run a marathon.

  “Larkin,” he says, his voice gone to gravel.

  I don’t say anything, wrapping my arms around myself. All that needed to be said was already said. I just cock my head at him, daring him to say something new.

  Charlie takes a step forward. “Larkin, I’ve made my decision.”

  I lose my breath in that instant. Is he about to say what I think he’s about to say?

  Instead, he shocks me further by taking two more steps toward me, until only inches separate us, and sinking to one knee. My hands fly up to my mouth and I gasp.

  No… it’s not possible, I think.

  “Larkin, you were right about one thing. I needed to decide if the past was more important then the future. I spent so long looking backward, the task of setting my sights on the future seemed… impossible.”

  Charlie holds out a hand, gesturing toward my own hand. Slowly, I place my trembling hand in his. He closes his fingers over mine, and I can feel that he’s shaking too.

  “Oh Charlie…” I whisper.

  He shakes his head. “It shouldn’t have, but it did. Then my father asked me if I was ready to change and grow, or if I was going to stagnate until I died…”

  He looks down for a moment. When he looks back up at me, there are tears swimming in his eyes.

  “Larkin, you’re the person I want to grow old with. I want to go where you go. And Sarah fucking loves you already…”

  My eyes mist over, and I have to wipe away tears with my free hand. He bites his lower lip, then says:

  “I’m sorry that I made you wait. You’ve been so strong, through all of this. I don’t have a ring, but… I love you. I love you so much.” He takes a second, his throat working. “Larkin Lake, will you please do me the honor of being my wife?”

  “Yes…” I manage. I start to cry, tears streaming down my face. Emotions are running high, but I say, “Yes, Charlie. I love you, too. I will marry you.”

  I've never wanted to bury myself in anyone’s arms so badly. I look down at him, my heart squeezing in my chest. I make sort of a strangled noise, looking at him pleadingly.

  He stands, hugging me hard. At the same time I barrel into his chest, knocking him back a step. I wrap my arms around his back.

  My heart is so full that I can hardly stand it. I bury my face against his chest, happy beyond words.

  When I pull back to give voice to my thoughts, his mouth comes down on mine like a burning brand. I moan, running a hand up into his hair.

  He pulls me closer, pressing our bodies together. Just the pressure of his hips against mine had me wrapping my leg around him, grinding.

  Though it had only been hours since I’d had him, my body misses his. I pull at his jacket, wanting to see some more of his skin.

  He shucks the jacket, kissing me as he walks me backward to the couch. He unlaces and kicks off his boots as I took off my tee shirt.

  Charlie grabs my yoga pants, shoving them down forcefully. I step out of them, blushing.

  I am bare underneath. I shivered as he fists my long blonde hair in one hand, pulling my head back as he kisses my collarbone. I gasp out loud when he finds my nipple with his teeth, grazing it ever so lightly.

  “This is mine,” he growls, kissing my other breast lightly. “And this…”

  He kisses my bellybutton, my hips, the very top of my pubic mound. I cried out at that, my hips jerking, my pussy soaking wet.

  “Charlie, yes,” I groan. “All yours.”

  He moves back up my body, kissing me savagely. I shiver when he pulls my thighs apart.

  “Take this off,” I insist, tugging at his shirt.

  He complies, showing me a wealth of honed, muscular flesh. I run my hands over the broad expanse of his back, raking my nails across it.

  We kiss again. He touches my inner thigh, caressing his way inward. His fingers brush my pussy, just as his tongue strokes mine in long, hard sweeps.

  I buck against his touch, moaning lowly.

  He finds my core and slides two fingers deep inside. We both groan as he finger fucks me hard and slow, taking his time in possessing me.

  “Fuck, you’re so tight,” he gasps as I started to clamp down on his fingers.

  “Yes! Yes!” I encourage him. I kiss and suck on his neck, knowing full well that I am going to leave marks.

  He works his fingers in and out, flexing them in a beckoning gesture. Normally fingering didn’t do it for me, but I think I might cum just from the filthy look on his face, the way he bites his lip and watches my tits bounce.

  He shifts in place. I feel his jeans scrape against my inner thighs. I love everything Charlie is doing to me, but I want more. Need more.

  “Take your pants off,” I say, trying not to sound as breathless as I feel. “I want you inside me.”

  He withdraws his fingers and picks me up, carrying me to the couch. He sets me down, unbuttoning his jeans, then he hesitates.

  “Now,” I beg him. I pull at his jeans, pleading. “Right fucking now.”

  He strips off his jeans and boxers, then gets on the couch, hovering over me. I reach up and pull at him, needing him desperately. My legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer.

  Charlie takes a half a second to position his cock at my entrance. I am more than prepared, slick and ready with my excitement.

  He enters me with a long, hard thrust, and we both cry out at the sensation. It feels so good, him inside of me, stretching me, making me heavy and full.

  He grabs my hand and pins it up over my head, knotting our fingers together. I grab his face with my free hand and kiss him, frenzied, as he begins to move within me. He hits all the right spots, withdrawing and thrusting over and over again, until my eyes roll back in my head.

  I come suddenly, spontaneously, clutching myself to him with a desperate kind of passion. He comes, shouting my name to the heavens, gripping my hand so hard that it’ll be bruised.

  He eventually slows, kissing me. I put both of my hands on his face, cupping it delicately, and kiss him back for all I am worth.

  Charlie chuckles as he withdraws, sliding to one side so that his full weight doesn’t crush me. “Damn.”

  I look at him, my heart squeezing. “You having regrets already?”

  He chuckles again and shakes his head. “Not a chance. Not ever. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I tend to stick to things wholeheartedly once I’ve decided on them.”

  I smirk. “I hardly noticed.”

  “Well, you are apparently one of those things.” He kisses me, long and slow.

  I bite my lip. “You do realize that we will have to explain ourselves to Sarah.”

  He shrugs, like it’s not that big of a deal.

  “She’ll be thrilled. I intend to move forward, not backward. I want move in together, and to get married…”

  “Oh yeah?” I tease. “You’re going all out, huh?”

  “Every step of the way. You joke, but I’m dead serious. I think we should talk about moving to New York together.”

  My brow knits. “But what about Sarah’s grandparents?”

  “There are planes for a reason. We can come visit, my Dad and Rosa can visit…”

  I frown. “What about Helen? What about… doesn’t she think I’m a bad influence or something?”

  “I hate that we are even having to talk about this. You’re a great influence. Sarah fucking loves you.” He sighs and shakes his head. “I think that we can make our plans. I just… I’m so angry at Helen, but I feel bad for her, too.”

  I put my hand on Charlie’s chest, my palm right over his heart.

  “Have I ever said that I find empathy very attractive?” I ask with a tiny smi
le.

  He chuckles, glancing down at me. “I’m glad.”

  I move a little, propping myself up on an elbow.

  “We have a couple more days until you have to go pick up Sarah…” I say. “Do you maybe want to spend them somewhere more comfortable than the living room floor?”

  “Is that a very oblique way of asking me to bed?” he asks, arching a brow.

  “Maybe.” I blush.

  He grins, leaning up to me, placing a kiss on my lips. “Then I accept. I can promise you now, I will always say yes. To this, and whatever else you want.”

  “Always?” I murmur against his lips.

  “Always,” he says.

  And I know that Charlie is telling the truth. I have never felt so happy, or so safe, as I do right now, in this moment.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Larkin

  Three Months Later

  “And then we put the towels in…” I say in a sing-song voice.

  I bounce Sarah on my hip as I put the last of the laundry in the wash. My gigantic engagement ring catches on one of the towels, and it takes a minute to get it off. I set the empty basket down and pour the liquid detergent in.

  “Then we add the soap… and close the lid. Do you want to press the start button?” I ask Sarah. I point out the button.

  Sarah bites her lip, leaning in to hit the start button. The machine starts filling immediately.

  “Dere!” she announces proudly.

  “You did it!” I say. “Good job. Now what should we do until Daddy gets home?”

  She looks thoughtful. “Peppa Pig?”

  I nod, heading out of the little laundry room. I walk through the kitchen, with its seventies decor, and into the living room. The dogs all lay on the floor, their tails thumping. They are worn out from playing with Sarah earlier today.

  I put Sarah down on the couch, then hunt for the TV remote.

  Charlie and I decided to move in together as soon as he proposed. We told Sarah, who was thrilled. Slowly but surely, we have made my side of the house our home, which is admittedly sometimes a little crazy. With dogs, a cat, and three people… it can get a little nuts over here sometimes.