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I pivoted to face Mom, startling her into an abrupt stop. “Dad knew her?”
Mom’s pinched lips curved into an innocent smile that did nothing to hide her real motive. “He met her many times prior to her family moving to Berlin for business. He was her godfather, actually. I’m sure she has some stories of him to share.”
I grabbed Eileen’s picture again.
For a moment, the idea of meeting her semi-charmed me. Doctors were analytical people, were they not?
Perhaps I could explain my situation. My terms and conditions. All the fine print.
We’d walk into this pragmatically, eyes wide open, each with something to gain.
I could give her the wealth, the status, the perks. Just not the love, the devotion, and everything else that came with a real partnership.
She’d get the kids, too, and wouldn’t even have to pretend to enjoy getting impaled by my supersized cock.
We could have a comfortable arrangement.
A business deal of sorts.
But there was another part of me, a greater part of me, that knew no sane woman would ever subject herself to this kind of existence. Not in a free world, anyway.
They all wanted the romantic dinners, the Instagram-worthy vacations, the conversations into the night, the candlelit sex.
The touching.
The touching.
The touching.
I couldn’t touch humans.
That was my worst-kept secret.
I loathed the feeling of foreign, sticky hot skin against my own. I did not shake people’s hands. Didn’t slap people’s backs, nor kiss people’s cheeks.
I did not hug, cuddle, or make out.
And sex?
Entirely out of the question.
The mere thought of someone laying on top of me made me violently sick.
Flashbacks of the time I’d spent trapped under my father’s lifeless figure lashed against my skin like a spiky leather belt each time I went as far as contemplating kissing someone.
I decided to spare my father’s goddaughter.
“No.” I tore the woman’s Polaroid between my fingers, letting pieces of her sprinkle to the floor like confetti. “Not interested.”
“I’m never going to wear the dress I bought for his wedding.” CelesteAyi shook her head and knocked back the whiskey in one sip, slapping the tumbler against the drink cart. “I should just wear it for a date.”
Mom straightened her blazer, calculating her next move.
I bared my teeth. “What?”
She stood tall, chin up, suit impeccable, not a hair out of place. But inside, I knew she was falling apart. That every day, I broke her heart, woke up, and did it again.
“Are you gay?” It came out in one whooshed breath. Not laced with judgment but rather desperation.
