AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Well, maybe not him. He’s going to get everything he wants. The family with me, complete access to me, and the family he can show to the world. Seems like a really great deal for him.
When I’m finally alone, I decide to look at my reflection in the vanity mirror. I need to see myself. And what greets me is exactly what I thought. Pale, scared, and sick looking. My stomach clenches, and I press my hand against it again. I am so screwed.
HENDRICK
After putting in an order for breakfast to be delivered, I check my phone and see that I’ve got a text from my father.
DIRECTOR: COME TO MY OFFICE THIS EVENING BEFORE YOU START WORK. I NEED YOUR ANSWER.
My answer. Fuck. What is my answer going to be? Do I marry the girl who is clearly not going to stop looking for her sister? A sister I was the last person to see alive. Or do I keep the one I want? Because I won’t ever be able to marry Allison, but I can still keep her and be faithful. I would just be single when it comes to the family.
But that doesn’t sound happy either.
The only way I can see any of this working is to have two families for the sake of the family. And I’m not fucking sure how this would even work. So, instead of trying to make any decisions right now, I’m going to meet with my father, and I’m going to do what every man in the family does.
I’m going to allow the director to have the final say. Not my dad, not my boss, but my director. He will make the decision that is best for the family, and I pretty much know what it is, but I don’t want to be the one to make it.
I’m a pussy.
I’LL BE THERE.
Sinking my teeth into my bottom lip, I walk over to the window that faces the city sidewalk. I look down and watch as the people walk by. They’re heading places, although I’m not sure where, and I don’t care. They don’t have anything to do with me. But I still wonder one thing when it comes to them… are they happy?
The front desk calls when the food arrives. I tell them to go ahead and send it up. Then I look behind me at the hallway, wondering when she’s going to come out of the shower. It hits me in this moment, the realization that she could be knocked up.
Fuck.
A family of my own.
But in some weird fucked-up way that is probably going to end up fucking me over in one way or another. I run my fingers through my hair and turn away from the hall again, facing the window as I wait for the front desk to knock on the door.
“You’re thinking,” a sweet voice rasps.
Turning my head, I give her a smile. “Yeah.”
“About the possibility?” she asks.
I hum. I can tell she’s seriously freaked out. I am, too, but for different reasons. Then the doorbell rings, and I jerk my head.
“Yeah,” I murmur as I make my way to the door.
I open it, give the front desk guy a twenty, then close the door and turn to face Allison. It’s breakfast from her favorite place. Cream-cheese-stuffed French toast. It’s her thing. Something she loves, and I wanted her to be happy, but seeing the look on her face, I’m wondering if that’s possible.
And then I can’t help but think about how completely unhappy she seems. I’m not sure what she feels matters. I give a fuck, but at the same time… I don’t. We eat in silence. She doesn’t even appear excited about the breakfast. I don’t know if she’s not or if it’s just me lost inside of my own head about all this shit.
When breakfast is consumed, we head for the motel. I have no clue where she’s been staying, and as she gives me directions, it hits me hard that she was staying in a complete shithole on the absolutely wrong side of town in an effort to get away from me.
This is all on me, too.
She would have never left if it weren’t for me wanting to keep her. Which is exactly what I fucking want. She doesn’t, though, and maybe I should have let her go, except I can’t now. She’s possibly carrying my kid, and now I have to navigate that shit.
Pulling up to the front of the motel, I realize she’s been staying here. My woman has been staying here. Alone. I don’t care if it was only for a few days. She shouldn’t have been here for even a few minutes.
What the actual fuck?
Turning to her, I start to ask her just that. But she shakes her head and lifts her hand to her forehead as if she’s stressed out, worried, or just plain fucking tired.
“Don’t,” she exhales. “Just don’t. I know it’s a shithole. I know a lot of things but just don’t. I don’t want to hear about it.”
