by Hunter Rose
That’s what I tell myself, anyway. It’s what I believe – but maybe I believe it because I’ve never had the money to keep up with the Joneses. I’ve never had the money to become a slave to fashion or the latest trend in gadgetry, and I’m usually pretty content.
But still, even I have to admit it would be nice not having to worry about every single dime. It would be nice to have the ability to go out for dinner on a whim, just because we want to, rather than having to scrimp and save for weeks and painstakingly plan out the meal just to ensure I have enough money.
I’m a better person without all the material excess though, right? And won’t Kinsey be as well? Or are these the self-delusions of somebody who’s more or less poor?
“Anyway, you two are welcome to stay as long as you wish. Rent-free,” Roman interrupts my thoughts before I can devolve into self-recrimination. “That should help you save up a pretty good nest egg.”
I shake my head. “I can’t do that, Roman. I can’t not pay rent. That just isn’t right.”
He shrugs. “My house, my rules,” he grins. “Besides, you’d be giving me a chance to get to know my daughter. To me, that’s priceless.”
I sigh and sit back in my seat. I have to admit the offer is tempting. To be able to live somewhere totally rent-free for a while would help me build a sizeable nest egg. One that could let Kinsey and I move somewhere a little better than what I’ve been looking at. As I peruse the pro/con list I’ve put together in my head, I have to admit it’s weighted pretty heavily to the pro side of things. And the items that are on the con side can pretty much be written off to my wounded pride and ego. All except for one.
“You know I’m not going to sleep with you, right?” I ask.
He chuckles. “I seem to remember you saying that once before.”
The laughter bursts from my throat, and I slap him playfully on the arm. “Shut up,” I laugh. “You are such an ass.”
He smiles. “That’s not the first time you’ve told me that either.”
Together we laugh. For a moment, all the anger and dark tension that had woven its way around us these past four years disappears. In that moment, I feel as free and light with Roman as I ever did. It feels good. Better than good. And best of all, it feels normal. Natural.
But the moment passes, and the shadow of that darkness settles back down over us once more.
“I mean it,” I tell him. “This is for Kinsey. Nothing else but her matters.”
He nods. “I get that. I really do.”
“Okay. I’ll take you up on your offer,” I say, blowing out a long breath and hoping like hell I won’t regret this. “Thank you, Roman. This means – a lot.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I just have one request?” I ask, afraid I’m pushing my luck.
“What’s that?”
“Can we – just for now – hold off on telling Kinsey you’re her father?” I squeak. “I want to ease her into it and not cause her any sort of upset or confusion.”
I see a hint of disappointment in his eyes – which is understandable. He wants to get to know his daughter. I just want to make sure she’s ready for the truth first.
“Of course,” he agrees.
“We’ll tell her soon. I promise,” I tell him. “And we’ll do it together.”
I cock my head and look at him. He has a small smile on his lips and a sparkle in his eyes I haven’t seen since Syria. There seems to be a sort of peace in his face. There’s a lightness, and maybe even a happiness in his features, that feels strangely out of place. Almost like clothes that are too big and don’t quite fit. It makes me think that perhaps he hasn’t felt that sort of lightness or peace in some time. And that, strangely enough, makes me feel sad for him.
I give him a small smile in return, and then quickly look away before being drawn back in his gaze as I feel an old familiar heat creeping up into my face at the same time it burns between my thighs. As his eyes bore into mine, holding my gaze fast, my pussy grows slick, and I feel my panties getting drenched. Clearing my throat, I manage to tear my eyes away from his at last.
“Not to look a gift horse in the mouth or anything,” I start, “but can I ask why you’re doing this? Why you’re opening up your home to us like this?”
He takes my hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. His hand is so smooth, and yet there is a tremendous strength in his fingers. Roman gazes at me with such an electric intensity that it nearly takes my breath away – and ensures that I am going to have to immediately wash this pair of panties when I get home.
“Because I want nothing but the best for Kinsey,” he whispers, then surprises me by adding, “and for you.”
23
Scarlet
“Oh. honey, you are living the high life now,” Tyson beams. “Just think of the wine tastings we can host here.”
I set a box down as we walk into the downstairs living room and look around. The smile on my face is so wide it almost hurts. A plush loveseat sits perpendicular to the sofa –large, overstuffed, and entirely inviting. A polished dark oak and glass coffee table is set before the sofa, and on the wall hangs a flat-screen television so large, it looks like the jumbotron in a sports stadium to me.
The rear wall is made entirely of glass and looks out over the ocean beyond. The bright sunlight of the day outside floods in and lights up the room. Squealing with delight, I run over and throw the doors open, letting the scent of the Pacific fill the room. I inhale deep of the heavy salt air, and my smile widens even further. Turning around, I walk past the living room and step into the kitchen. It is thoroughly modern with every gadget you can think of, all of them a bright and shiny chrome.
The kitchen itself is also done in highly polished dark oak and has a center island that bisects the room. There is enough room for four barstools on one side of the island, and on the other is a gas stove as well as a deep sink. Another sink is embedded into the counter behind me, along with a dual rack oven, a dishwasher, and other gadgets I can’t even begin to place. There is a ton of cabinet space and a pantry big enough for me to hide in.
I hear Kinsey’s excited squeal – which sounds a lot like my own – before I see her. She drops her box of things on the floor by a dining room table large enough to seat eight comfortably and dashes out the back doors onto the deck. I follow her out and put my hands on her shoulders. Together, we stare out at the waves crashing upon the shoreline, the thunderous sound filling my ears and my heart with joy. Overhead, a pair of seagulls float along the currents of air, their calls sounding entirely magical to me.
Three steps lead from the back deck we’re standing on to a small patio with a round glass table topped by a large umbrella. Further down, past the table, is a small walk that leads to a gate in the fence. The backyard, if it can be called that, is fenced in by a waist high wall made of stone. Kinsey dashes down the steps and drops down into the sand on the other side of the walk and looks back up at me, with a smile on her face and a sparkle in her eye that melts my heart.
“This place is gorgeous,” Tyson marvels as he steps up beside me. “I’m really glad you swallowed down your pride and moved in.”
I nod and stare out at the ocean, relishing the way the sunlight sparkles upon it. “Yeah, I think I am, too.”
It took me about two weeks to get all my things together, packed and ready for moving. Roman offered to hire movers for me, but when I saw the depressingly small number of boxes we were taking, I told him it wasn’t necessary. It seems pretty sad to me that my entire life can fit in fewer than twenty boxes. And though she had tact enough not to show it, Megan was pretty happy to have me leaving earlier than anticipated.
I look around again and still can’t believe that this is our new home. “Pinch me.”
Tyson laughs. “Oh honey, if this is a dream, I sure as hell don’t want to wake up either.”
“Hey Kinsey,” I call down to my girl. “Want to see your bedroom?”
She squeals as she jumps up
and starts to dash back up the steps. I stop her before she can get inside and squat down so I’m eye level with her.
“Okay, this is really important, so listen up, kiddo,” I start. Kinsey looks back at me with solemn eyes. “Before you come back into the house, you have got to make sure all of the sand is off. Shake it off before you come up the steps, and before you walk in, use that small shower over there to wash your feet and legs. Got it?”
I point to a small shower set discreetly to the side. It’s made of the same rock as the back deck and the walkway, so it blends in. But it has a hand-held nozzle you use to hose yourself off.
“It’s super important you remember that, Kinsey,” I instruct, stressing it again for her. “Every time. You got it?”
She nods again and smiles. “Every time, mama.”
“Okay, good girl.”
I watch as she walks over, and I turn on the shower for her. She takes the nozzle and hoses down her legs and feet. Tyson emerges onto the patio with a towel, which Kinsey then uses to dry herself off. She looks up at me for approval, and I give her a smile.
“That’s my girl,” I smile.
The three of us walk inside, and we follow a hallway off the living room, coming to a door that has bright, multi-colored letters on it that spell out Kinsey’s name. When I point it out to her, her squeal fills the hallway. It nearly shatters my eardrums, making Tyson laugh.
“Well, I guess this is your room, huh?” he asks.
Kinsey throws open the door and storms inside, but stops cold in the middle of the room, her eyes wide and her mouth falling open. The room itself has been painted a bright yellow color and has unicorns, rainbows, and an entire fairytale landscape mural taking up an entire wall. The quality of the mural is so good; it had to have been done by a professional.
As I stand there, taking it all in, I vaguely recall Roman asking me what her favorite color was, among other things. I remember not thinking much of it at the time, like it was just a ‘getting to know you’ kind of question. Apparently not. Now I see what he did with all of that information, and I’m blown away.
As I stand in the middle of the room, I see that everything I mentioned is in here – and even more. There are toys and electronic gadgets she hasn’t even noticed yet, and I wonder if I can get them out of here before she does. There is a white four-poster bed with a canopy sitting in one corner of the room. The sheer white curtains are pulled and tied to the posters, but Tyson walks over and unties them, letting the curtains fall into place.
“A proper bed for a proper princess,” he says, making Kinsey laugh.
There’s a white dresser with a sitting desk, a large circular mirror hanging on the wall behind it. A humungous fuzzy purple bean bag sits in another corner. When Kinsey spots it, she immediately rushes over and with an excited scream, jumps down into it. The size of the bean bag engulfs my little girl with a muffled poomf! Her giggles ring out high in the room.
I walk over to the closet, and when I open it, my own mouth falls open. It’s a walk-in closet, for one thing – how many three-year-old’s have walk in closets? But the closet is already filled with clothes – everything from frilly princess dresses to jeans. There are racks devoted to dresses, another to button down shirts, and shelves that hold pants, jeans, and more shoes than any child should have. What’s more, I noticed that Roman has already anticipated Kinsey’s growth, and many of the clothes here are meant for her to grow into within a few months. I never knew he could be so thoughtful. On the wall at the far end of the closet is a full-length mirror for her to apparently model her new duds.
“So much for teaching her frugality,” I groan.
Tyson stands behind me and kisses me on the cheek. “She deserves this. And so do you.”
“I can’t say I would be opposed to a frilly princess dress right now.”
He takes my hand and leads me out of the room, allowing Kinsey to adapt to her new surroundings – something I don’t think she’s going to have any problem with. He opens a second door that’s further down and on the opposite side of the hall as Kinsey’s room. I’m suddenly glad to not be sharing a wall – let alone a room – with a squealing toddler hopped up on a plethora of new toys to play with.
I open the door and step into what is now my room and feel a rush of gratitude so thick; it nearly knocks me to my knees. I feel tears welling in my eyes, making them sting. Tyson is there beside me, holding me up as we take in the room. The walls are done in a creamy shade of lavender – I remember telling Roman that purple is my favorite color. There is a king-sized bed that juts out into the middle of the room, the bedding is all done in various purple hues.
I sit down on the edge of it, bouncing up and down a few times, and then throw myself back onto the bed, staring up at the skylight above, absolutely relishing the comfort. It is the softest, most comfortable bed I’ve ever laid on – and it beats the hell out of the twin bed I’d had crammed against the wall on one side of the room at Megan’s condo.
“I feel like I’m lying on a cloud,” I moan.
I sit up and look around, still in disbelief that this is my new home. The nightstands and dresser are made of a polished cherry wood that is simply gorgeous. There’s a sitting table just outside the bathroom with a large three-sided mirror on top of it and a surface big enough for all of my things. The bathroom itself is enormous, with a double basin sink and a shower big enough for at least two people encased in glass.
I walk back out into the bedroom and step to the two French doors on the back wall, opening them up and letting the sunshine and salt air flow freely. I stand there with my eyes closed and my face turned up toward the sun as I listen to the waves crashing against the shoreline a hundred yards from my room, feeling my heart swell with a joy I haven’t known in a very long time.
“You should see this,” Tyson says.
I turn and find him standing in the doorway of my closet. I walk over and gasp. The walk-in closet is enormous. It’s got a full length mirror on the back wall like Kinsey’s does, but it’s even bigger. And though it’s not completely filled with clothes like hers, Roman was crazy enough to buy some swimsuits as well as about a dozen different dresses for me – all of them a vintage style. I don’t recall telling him I love vintage clothing, but he apparently picked up on it somewhere.
He left a note taped to the mirror at the back of the closet, so I walk over and take it off, smiling as I read his words. I hope I’m not being overly presumptuous; I just happen to think you would look amazing in all of these ~ R.
“Any chance he’s gay?”
I was so caught up in my own head, I didn’t even realize that Tyson was reading over my shoulder. I laugh and slap him in the shoulder, feeling a rush of emotion that’s nearly overwhelming.
“Sorry babe,” I say. “Pretty sure he’s about as straight as they come.”
“He have a brother who’s gay?”
I laugh out loud and throw my arms around him, squeezing him tight. “I don’t know, but I’ll be sure to ask.”
“Please do,” Tyson chuckles.
We spend the rest of the afternoon moving in my meager possessions and getting the place set up. I don’t have a whole lot, but the things I do have are things I enjoy. Paintings, a few small sculptures, books, knick-knacks – small things. But as I start getting everything put into place, it’s starting to feel like home to me. It’s surprising to me, but it’s a very real feeling, nonetheless. But I don’t understand why.
At Megan’s place, I was always very conscious that it wasn’t my place. I was always the roommate living in her condo. It’s nothing she did or said. She was always very gracious, but I never felt like it was my home. The situation hasn’t changed – this isn’t my place. Somebody else owns it. I’m still just a guest. And yet, for some reason, it just feels different. As I look around, I just feel like this place is home.
24
Roman
I park in the driveway, next to Scarlet’s dusty old Camry,
and smile. We’re going to have to do something about that car. She and Kinsey are here. Finally. The thought fills me with a sense of peace. Happiness. As I get out of my car and walk to the steps that lead upstairs, strangely enough, I feel good. It’s like I’m coming home to my family.
Sort of.
It blows my mind. Several months ago, I never would have thought the idea of having a family would cause me anything but stress. But after reconnecting with Scarlet and meeting Kinsey, my entire world has been changed. It’s been turned upside down in the best way possible. I don’t know what the future holds for Scarlet and me, but I think the fact she’s agreed to move in here and let me have a relationship with my daughter is a good first step.
Though I’m tempted to check in and see how the girls are settling in, I figure I’ll give them a little time and space. Besides, it’s been a long day. I’m beat. I want nothing more than a beer, some music, and my bed. I should probably work some food in there somewhere, but I’m too beat to care right about now.
I get to the landing on the top floor and find a note taped to my door. I pull it off and read the neat, flowing script, and grin. Dinner at seven. Don’t be late. Don’t forget to shower – you probably stink. Well, at least I’m not going to have to worry about rustling up some food for myself.
I let myself into my apartment and head for the shower. I check my watch and see that I’ve got about fifteen minutes, so I bathe quickly and throw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. I assume it’s going to be casual attire. I grab a bottle of wine from the small kitchenette and head downstairs. I swing around the staircase and to the front door of the house, then knock on it.
Kinsey opens the door wearing one of the frilly pink princess dresses I bought her, a wide smile on her face. I look down and return her smile.
“Well, don’t you look like beautiful royalty?”
