Filed to story: I Slept With My Ex's Father (Olivia & Dylan) Book PDF Free
“Maybe not. But still, he has to own up to his end of things.” In a softer voice, he adds, “I thought Abigail was going to rope him into coming.”
“She did what she could.” And I don’t doubt it for one second.
“What about Jack?”
I shake my head. “Nate always responds more to Abigail than Jack.”
Nate has stayed in contact with both his younger siblings through his absence, thank god. But “contact” for him means a text or call every few months.
Defeat weighs heavy on my shoulders. “I have to do nearly everything through Abigail. And believe me, I’m thankful my children are close despite each of them having a different mother, but it bugs the shit out of me when they protect each other like this.” I shake my head. “If Abigail couldn’t get him to come, then all hope is lost.”
My friend runs his hand over his mouth as he starts to pace.
“Don’t pace,” I bark. “I’m already nervous enough.”
“I’m just thinking.”
“About?”
Solomon stops. “Why now? Why is Nate back in New York now?”
That’s the million-dollar question. “Trust me, if I knew, you’d know too.”
“I’ll bet you anything he’s ran out of money,” Solomon grumbles.
“If he wanted money, he’d have to, you know, talk to me, wouldn’t he?”
Solomon nods. “Fair point. But you know how people can be. Asking for money isn’t easy when you don’t have anything to give in return.”
“At this point, I would pay Nate to let me be his father again.” That’s a fact. “I don’t care if I needed to keep him salaried until the day I die. It might be fucked up to most people, but the way my life has panned out, that would be the least fucked up thing about it.”
Fuck, this hurts. “Look, can we just…” I shake my head, holding my hands up, palms facing Solomon. “We have a big night. I don’t want to think about this any more than I have to.”
“You’re right. I’ll drop it.”
“And please don’t say anything-“
“Dylan.”
My insides lock up.
“You know I’d never say anything about it unless you wanted me to.”
Besides my children, Sol is the only one who knows Nate is back in New York.
I hesitated to tell anyone about it to begin with, but even a man as hardened as me needs to have someone he can talk to. Someone to have his back no matter what.
Despite the serious way his mouth is curled, he’s still wearing that awful mask, and it suddenly dawns on me we’ve been having this conversation as a goblin and a phoenix.
Laughter bursts out of me. “This is ridiculous.”
“What?”
“Your face!”
Solomon touches his droopy wooden brows. “Oh! That. Ha! Well, let these serve as a good reminder to you. Tonight isn’t real life. It’s a fantasy. That’s what the masquerade is all about, isn’t it?”
He’s right. The masquerade has been a tradition in the Hill Club from the beginning. Has become the most sought-after event. Because it allows all of these powerful people to be pretty much anyone, an anonymous face in the crowd for one night a year.
“You’re right.” I sigh and pull on the lapels of my jacket.
“So, you’re going to go out there, forget about all the stuff with Nate, and you’re going to live a little, goddammit.”
Fuck it. Tonight, I’m not Dylan. I’m a phoenix, rising from the ashes.
And if tomorrow everything catches fire again, so be it. Because I’m going to make this a night to remember.
OLIVIA POV
“What do you mean, you’re in New York?!” I yell into the phone, causing a group of guys idling outside the bodega I’m passing to look at me with far more intrigue than I’d like.
Nate sighs. “What else would ‘I’m in New York’ mean, Olivia?”
I don’t have time for this shit.
“Well, I don’t see what that has to do with me,” I grumble, looking down the alley I’m passing as a chill runs up my spine.
This is New York. So much darker than sunny California.
And sure, there are millions of people in this city, but I just got here, and I’m still learning my way around.
Besides, you know what they say, it’s a small world. And the last thing I’d want is to run into my ex-boyfriend when all I want is the chance to start my life over.
“You know why I’m here.”
I take a turn. I should be almost there. “I told you already-“
“I know! But I’m trying to be-“
“What?! Romantic? I swear to god, Nathan Hill, you’ve got another thing coming if you think following a woman who wants nothing to do with you to another state is romantic.”
Nate is quiet for a moment.
“You want nothing to do with me?”
I look up, and I’m there.
Hill Court, named after the club and the family who owns it.
The Hill Pride façade is something to look at with its grand columns and arched windows up a series of wide, shallow steps, flanked by marble lions. It’s almost like a slightly smaller replica of the New York Library.
Luxurious black cars and limos are already starting to pull into the round cul-de-sac, stopping in front of the majestic nightclub. Guests of tonight’s masquerade.
“Olivia?” Nate’s voice in my ear pulls me out of my reverie.
I take a deep breath. “Goodbye, Nate. Please don’t call me again.”
Nate starts balking before I hang up the phone and put it into my clutch.
Lifting my head high, I put on a smile, and do my best model walk up to the front of the Hill Pride.
Thank god, my job provides me with a stipend to afford a more appropriate wardrobe. And given that my first time here is at this masquerade, I splurged on a white off-the-shoulder number with a high slit up the side that was a bargain on sale.
Still! This is more than I’ve spent on anything in a long time. And way more than I should.
However, amidst the entering guests, I feel like everyone can see how cheap I am.
The dress might be expensive, but the heels are old favorites from DSW, and the clutch is a complimentary makeup bag from the Estée Lauder counter.
I follow the train of a woman whose dress seems to be emblazoned with Swarovski crystals up the stairs and inside. My jaw almost drops at the foyer alone.
There’s an incredible crystal chandelier over the entryway that looks like it’s crying tears of glass and to the left is a rounded staircase leading up to a second level.
This is like no nightclub I’ve ever been to.
To the right is a table full of masquerade masks. They look almost too beautiful to touch.
Each person who passes picks one up, some taking the time to choose one, some with abandon. And just like that, their faces become ensconced in fantasy.
When it is my turn at the table, I peruse the masks, taking my time. I want to be concealed, but I also still want to be beautiful. No trolls or dragons for me.
My eyes settle on a piece with white feathers and sparkles with an elegant beak fitted for the nose.
I take it, examining it for a moment. My heart fills with a strange amount of love for the mask. That’s how I know it’s mine.
A male voice comes from the top of the stairs. “Ah, the lady of the hour!”
My eyes follow the sound to the man I recognize from all our Zoom meetings. Farley Axford.
He’s…smaller in person. He came across as larger than life, or maybe I was intimidated before since he held my future in his hands.
