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The rocking of the boat wasn’t the only thing making me feel dizzy. “Thank you,” I whispered.
How horribly ironic it was that the guy who was supposed to be nothing, just a convenient cock, stripping me of my virginity, had become a man who validated me. Who made me feel less of a freak. In that moment I realized I was falling hard for him and that scared me.
My mother was right. It wasn’t The Notebook. I couldn’t marry the lobster fisherman and sit back and watch him drink himself to death. Or maybe in a year or two he would realize no ex-girlfriend was worth ruining his own life and he’d walk away from the booze, but I had my doubts. That was a pain that ran deep and I totally got that.
Nor could he marry me and not grow to resent the shit out of my family’s money and my career, which would keep me in Boston. There were no fantasy futures to be had, especially not when Cain was knee-deep in a family feud with his brother. I am known for being practical. For assessing the situation and seeing the stark truth of it.
But this truth was one I didn’t want to face when I was standing on a boat in the beautiful bay with a gorgeous man holding me and telling me that I was fucking sexy.
So I asked questions and he answered and we enjoyed the hell out of each other’s company.
And we had dinner like a couple, where he only had two drinks. Then he took me to his house and fucked me hard from behind and I never wanted my education to end. Ever.
—
When I came back home at midnight my parents were in the house in the living room. My father was watching golf, which seemed amazing to me that he had found golf on that late. My mother was losing her shit.
“Where the hell have you been?” she asked me, looking outraged.
This was her grandstanding as usual, given that I had texted her that I was out with a friend. I hadn’t meant to stay that late at Cain’s but he had very persuasive methods. “I went out to dinner.”
Bella was dozing on the couch, which struck me as odd. She wasn’t a person who took naps and she didn’t fall asleep anywhere other than her bed. “Is Bella okay?”
“She has a migraine.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” I was starting to get a little worried about my sister. She seemed to have lost her pleasure in planning her wedding and was now just stressed out. Which was probably normal, but it made me sad for her. This was all she had ever wanted and she didn’t seem to be enjoying it.
“Are you, Sophie?” my mother snapped. “You are being so selfish right now.” She picked up her wineglass and sipped from it while I stared at her, not comprehending what the hell I had done wrong. “Bella needs you and you’re off having some sort of Dirty Dancing moment.”
“I thought I was acting out The Notebook,” I said, and instantly I knew being a smart-ass was a really bad idea. My mother was on the edge.
“Damn it,” she seethed. “This is not funny! Ned, tell your daughter this isn’t funny.”
“This isn’t funny,” my dad said automatically.
I took off my shoes and held them gingerly in my hands. I felt somewhat sheepish, though I still didn’t see what the big deal was. “I’m sorry, Mom. I’m not trying to be flippant.” Okay, I was. And she knew it. But I was high on another night of fantastic sex with Cain and her Dirty Dancing comment had been stupid.
Though I had to admit I could see the similarities. I was Baby the virgin and Cain was Johnny the bad boy. Or the big bad wolf. The thought made me smile.
“Why are you grinning?”
My mother was still dressed in linen pants and a shirt that I imagined she would call a blouse. My mother was the oldest fifty-five-year-old on the planet. She had the sensibilities of a woman in her eighties.
“I was thinking about something.” Something that involved Cain’s large cock and what it could do to me. But I had to keep that thought to myself. “Is there something you need me to do? I can help if you actually assign me a task.” That was me taking a little jab at her unwillingness to allow me to do anything for this wedding.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” She waved her hand and turned back to her wine.
I made eye contact with my father, who shrugged. In the past five years his hair, once dark like mine, had gone gray, and he’d gained a few pounds, but it never seemed to stop women from wanting to have sex with him. It’s a bizarre reality to know your father is a cheater and your mother most likely knows and doesn’t care. Or maybe does care, but cares more about her image than about his infidelity.
“I’m going to bed.” I wanted to toss my sullied shoes in the trash and I didn’t want to get too close to either of them. I suspected I smelled like sex, which would be very awkward.
I ditched the shoes in the kitchen wastebasket then ran up the stairs before my mother could start harassing me again. I was so glad I was years out from living under the same roof with her. Being at this house twice a year with my parents for vacation was plenty of time together. She seemed to have completely forgotten that I was on the verge of turning twenty-five years old. Not sixteen.
When I got upstairs my phone buzzed in my hand.
Good night, my sexy smart-ass.
I’m not going to lie. I slept hugging my phone that night, which was not part of my usual routine.
