Filed to story: I Slept With My Ex's Father (Olivia & Dylan) Book PDF Free
I open a bottle of beer and slide it down the counter to my son before opening one for myself. “Was thinking pizza tonight.”
Jack sighs. “Fine.”
“Oh, come on, you love pizza.”
“Yeah, but I’m watching my macros. Trying to bulk up.” He holds his arm up to his side, flexing his well-developed biceps. “Pizza and beer? Recipe for disaster.”
I smile at my son.
Another thing he inherited from his mother is her inability to gain weight no matter what she ate. He’s tall and gangly, and I know he’s always felt like he has to measure up to Nate’s physique. “Girls like skinny guys, Jack.”
“I’m not just doing it for girls, Dad.” He swigs his beer. “I’m doing it for me.”
Sure, kid, keep telling yourself that. “One night of pizza and beer won’t kill you.”
The front door opens, and my heart tries to fly out of my chest. “Unless there’s something you haven’t told me about your cholesterol,” I add as I head out to the front hall to greet Abigail and Nate.
“It’s your cholesterol I should be worried about, old man!”
I laugh.
When I enter the front hall, I have the wind knocked out of me by my daughter rushing into my arms and giving me a bear hug. “Hi, Daddy!”
“Hi, sugar.” I kiss the side of Abigail’s head, her auburn hair tickling my lips.
Abigail is the one I tried to do right by, at least compared to Nate and Jack.
Didn’t make it out of my twenties before I knocked up another woman. But this was my forever girl, Grainne.
Irish girl, hold the Catholic. Didn’t believe in marriage or settling down.
When she came to me with the positive pregnancy test, I was desperate to marry her.
Grainne wouldn’t budge. She was committed to her wildness.
And I loved that about her.
I stayed longer than I had with Clarissa or Mari. Abigail was seven by the time we split up.
I just didn’t feel like we even had anything to give each other.
In hindsight, her denial of marriage hurt more than I knew how to express.
I thought I had everything together. Was running Hill Club all on my own by the time Abigail was born. Other than the fact we did things out of order, Grainne should have wanted me to marry her.
And she didn’t.
That made it way too easy for me to walk away.
When I put Abigail down, I take a step forward only to find the front hall is empty, aside from us. “Where’s…”
Abigail grabs my arm.
Fuck.
“He changed his mind, Daddy. I’m sorry.”
My jaw ticks. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve cried as an adult man, but Nate is close to bringing me to my breaking point.
“He knows I want to make amends, right?”
“I’ve told him, Daddy.” Abigail shrugs. “He’ll come to you when he’s ready.” She heads into the kitchen where she greets Jack.
I stare into the empty hall. My whole body sags.
I wish I could crawl into a hole and never come out again.
Everyone just pushes me away. I’ve believed for so long that I deserve it. But isn’t it possible for people to change?
Can’t I show myself to be worthy of love again?
Jack pokes his head out of the kitchen. “Dad, I’m hungry, can we order?”
I clap my hands together.
Though my kids are adults, I still have to put on a happy face for them. I’m their dad. Dads are strong.
And I know the more I throw myself into giving them attention, the more Nate will drift into the background.
He’ll never fade away, though.
Just like Olivia, I can feel Nate’s presence. He’s in New York. And I just wish he’d make himself known to me. Give me one chance to prove to him that I’m ready to be the dad I should have always been and hear him out.
“Okay! Who wants anchovies?!”
My children’s collective groan is music to my ears.
OLIVIA POV
I run my fingers along the fern’s leaf, admiring its vivid green color as it drinks up all the water from my watering can.
It’s a pleasant Thursday afternoon in the club. That’s when traffic starts to pick up for the weekend.
Monday through Wednesday, things tend to be quiet. But as the Hill Pride comes to life up above for Thirsty Thursday, so does Hill Club. And with it, The Underground.
At least, that’s what I’ve picked up from my first three weeks at the club.
While my job involves a lot of heavy lifting when it comes to making sure all the wings of the club are working as they should, I quite enjoy it. It keeps me busy.
My only catch is that I don’t get to see Dylan that often. Or almost at all. And I hate myself for being disappointed about it.
Whenever I do see him, he’s engaged in serious talks with members or off to enjoy a swim.
His jaw is set so tight at all times, his obsidian gaze so hardened that I find it impossible to ever interrupt to even say hello.
The only time we ever really interact is our twice-weekly staff meetings in the nightclub where everyone gets together for upcoming events, problems we’re having, or new employees.
I keep my eyes off him as much as possible, but it’s hard not to stare when I know how he made me feel without even kissing me.
And I swear sometimes I can feel his eyes on me.
Might be just wishful thinking, though.
Once the fern has drunk all the water up, I head back toward my office; one of the glass-windowed offices is all mine, placed just right so I can always keep an eye on things.
However, a sob has me turning to find Hazel, one of our littles, stumbling through The Underground door. Tears are running down her face, adding to the innocence of her lace baby doll negligée, knee-high socks, and pigtails.
“Hazel, what’s wrong?” I close the space between us. I don’t know her headspace right now, and if she is in little space, she needs an adult to help her deal with her feelings.
“He-he-he’s drunk.”
My stomach drops.
“Who is, honey?”
“Master Ollie.”
Shit. This has been a recent yet recurring problem with one of the club’s longstanding members, Oliver Worthington.
Just his name gives me the heebie jeebies.
“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”
From what I understand, Oliver’s wife left him last year for a much younger man and sucked him dry during the divorce. To cope, he’s turned to drinking and lots of visits to The Underground.
However, drinking and scening don’t mix. Ever.
The maximum allowed to be able to scene at The Underground is one drink. Anyone who surpasses that limit is not allowed to play for at least six hours.
Hazel’s hands twist as she starts nodding but then shakes her head.
