Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 63496 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63496 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
“Explains it?” I ask, having trouble keeping up with the conversation. It’s no wonder really. Here I was expecting a lady in her mid to upper seventies and instead I’m staring at a goddess. Sure, she’s older, only in her late forties? Early fifties? That wouldn’t be missing it by much. Cory has icy blonde hair, which is probably professionally done, but looks soft and I’d liked to reach out and touch it. I resist … but barely. She also has a gorgeous figure that’s full of curves. Her ass looks perfect in those pants she’s wearing. They look as if they were custom made and sewed on her. Athletic yoga pants, black and clingy with a large pocket along the legs. She’s got a soft pink tunic on that has short sleeves and is gathered at her waist in some type of knot. Her breasts are easily a C cup and are doing things to my dick that nothing has in a lot of fucking years. In fact, Annie was the last woman I’ve had and that was way before our fight that severed the relationship between us.
“Daphne’s husband only allowed her to call me Ms. Grayson.”
“Allowed her?” I ask, trying to keep my temper tamped down. The last thing I want is to scare her.
“He was a controlling son of a bitch, always belittling Daphne. I’m glad she finally got rid of him.”
Fuck, I missed all of this while I was drunk. I should have been there to help my daughter, not trying to drown in a fucking bottle. “I seemed to have missed a lot,” I say, hearing the pain in my words that I can’t keep hidden. “I’m glad she’s done with him, too.”
“Daphne mentioned you were dealing with a lot yourself. She’s missed you. Care to come in for some coffee?”
“I’d like that,” I answer. I came here to convince her to move, but right now that’s the farthest thing from my mind. The truth is, I’d just like to spend some time with her. I’m attracted to her in ways that I never thought I’d ever be again.
I follow her inside and spend the next twenty minutes laughing and getting to know Cory. It feels good. I take in the pictures lining the walls of her living room. Her house is decorated to celebrate her life, not to show off décor and I definitely like that. Most of all, I like how pictures of my girls can be found all over the room.
Unable to stop myself I stand up while Cory is in the kitchen getting me a piece of banana bread that she just made earlier today. I am not a big fan of bananas, but if she made it and wants to give me some, I’m damn well going to eat it and pretend I love it. I walk slowly to the first set of pictures in front of me. There’s a big picture of a young, happy couple at their wedding. I know instantly it’s Cory and her husband. Cory is breathtaking, her hair not much different than the color it is now. She’s wearing an ivory slip dress, her long hair braided and thrown over her shoulder. There are flowers in her hair—small, delicate white daisies—and her eyes are a beautiful green. They’re not as dark and shiny as my daughter’s but they hold the beauty of a calm sea in them.
I hear the clink of dishes and turn to look over my shoulder. Cory is back and puts a plate of sliced bread on the worn coffee table. She walks toward me, and I like the way that feels. It’s weird as hell, but I have to fight the urge to open my arms so she can walk into them.
“That’s my late husband Carl and I on our wedding day,” she murmurs, staring at the picture with a fond smile.
“The two of you look truly happy.”
“We were. I mean, we had some really hard years, but we fought through and stayed together. Marriage is never going to be a bed of roses. You have to weather the storms, but if you fight through it together, it makes the time you have special.”
“I wish I could say that was my experience in my relationship with Daphne’s mother and co-father. It wouldn’t be true, though.”
“Co-father?”
“I didn’t exactly have a traditional relationship. I loved Annie and Latch equally. He loved us both, too. I mean, Latch and I weren’t attracted to one another—just women. It would have been easier if it had been different. Still, I met Annie, and she was like a whirlwind in my life. I introduced her to Latch and the three of us were solid … until we weren’t.”
“Daphne doesn’t mention Latch.”
“He died before she was born,” I explain, hearing the pain and sadness in my own words.