I went into the kitchen and poured myself some of the coffee Tori had made, gulping it down black and lukewarm, and then stuck a slice of bread in the toaster oven. My mouth was dry, my head pounding. I was beyond hungover from the whiskey and from skipping both lunch and dinner the day prior. I’d been so focused on prepping Tori for the big Sunday night dinner at my father’s that I hadn’t bothered taking care of myself. And now I was paying for it.
As I forced down the dry toast, I went over the events of last night. I could still remember every moment in detail, from the confrontation with Anja to arriving home and finding the bedroom empty. For one, long, horrible moment, I had thought that Tori had left me.
Not that I would have blamed her. The whole thing was a fucking mess. Anja. Max. My father. Who wouldn’t want to get as far away from that nightmare as possible?
I’d found her easily enough in the guest bedroom, her body curled up almost self-defensively under the pile of covers. My heart ached at the sight, at the realization that she’d hidden herself away from me. And then the way she’d acted this morning. It was killing me.
I wanted Tori at my side. I needed her to help me through this, to be my wife and partner. Somehow, though, it seemed like I had fucked everything up. Being a husband was new to me. Being a good husband was even newer. How was I supposed to know how to act, what to say? My own father had never provided much of an example on that front. I was doing my best.
Speaking of which—how the hell was I supposed to know how to be a dad? That was the newest role of all. I could barely stand to think about it. Knowing that I owed it to Max to step up after all these years helped, though. In a way, it took the decision right out of my hands. Of course I’d be there for him. However I could. I just didn’t know where to start.
I had barely gotten a good look at the boy before he was taken away to bed, but I’d seen his green eyes. Zoric eyes. They’d looked like a perfect mix of mine and Anja’s blue-green.
Coming home to Tori, my mind blown, I’d stripped off my clothes and crawled into the guest bed, automatically reaching for her. I’d wanted her so much, needed to be inside her with a primal need that I’d never felt before. It hadn’t taken much to wake her, had taken even less to seduce her. Tori had always been easy for me to read, so I’d made it a point to learn everything that turned her on. I knew she liked it when I took charge, when I dominated her, and I was always more than happy to comply. Her body had been warm and welcoming under my hands, and I’d fucked her until she was panting and begging beneath me.
The tight clench of her pussy as she came had been nearly enough to set me off as well, but I’d managed to hold on for a bit longer, wanting to savor the feel of her body against mine. I’d wanted to possess her, to fill her up, to claim her completely. And she’d wanted that, too. I could tell by the way her body reacted to mine, how quickly she came again on my cock.
I’d fucked her hard, but she had liked it, had begged for it. I’d given her everything she’d asked for, whispering words of love and desire the whole time. I’d meant it all, even if the alcohol had loosened my tongue more than I had expected.
None of it had been a lie. I loved her. I needed her. I wanted to believe she felt the same.
My head had ached when I woke up that morning, but finding the bed empty I’d dressed quickly. When I’d stepped out of the guest room, I found her standing in the hallway, frozen, looking like she’d been caught sneaking out. And then she’d proceeded to evade me.
She’d denied her odd behavior when I’d called her out on it, but I saw right through the act. Her eyes were too wide, her smile too bright and quick. Even her voice had sounded off, higher pitched and cheerier than its usual timbre. She’d left in a hurry.
I didn’t understand. She was being distant—first insisting she leave me alone with Anja at my dad’s, then coming home and sleeping the guest room, and then trying to sneak out this morning while I was sleeping. What was she playing at? Why wasn’t she being honest with me?
It had taken all of my strength to stay upright while I questioned her. Now that she was gone, I slumped in my chair. I was exhausted. Everything ached. After finishing my breakfast, I took a few ibuprofen and got in the shower, hoping the hot water would help me think.
As I stood under the spray, I realized that I couldn’t put off my paternal duties any longer than I already had—and since Tori had said she would be gone until later tonight, I might as well tackle the kid issue right away. Decision made, I started feeling better already.
I toweled off and got dressed, putting on my usual uniform of a perfectly tailored suit, Italian shoes, sleek designer watch, and a slim silk tie. When I looked in the mirror, I saw what I needed to see: someone who had their shit together. Someone formidable. Someone who wasn’t going to be pushed around.
Then I grabbed my cell phone and dialed my father.
“I’m not going to make it into the office today,” I told him, keeping my voice calm and collected. “Figured I should take some time off and get to know the kid.”
He couldn’t know how thrown I’d been by all of this, or that I was worried about my marriage or Tori or anything else. I had to appear unflustered. Untouchable.
“You have my blessing,” my father said. I could hear the glee in his tone, could tell he was gloating over all his vile plans coming together, whatever they were. “Take all the time you need, Stefan. Nothing’s more important than family.”
After asking for Anja’s number, I’d gotten off the phone, hating him even more.
As I dialed her number, I found myself pacing in the living room, unable to sit still. I wasn’t nervous about talking to her—I was nervous about seeing my kid. She wouldn’t deny me that, based on the conversation we’d had last night, but I had no idea how I was supposed to act around Max, or if he’d even accept me as his mother’s ‘friend.’ Springing the whole dad thing on him today wasn’t part of my plan, but I was hoping to at least start building some kind of relationship with him. Anja and I could discuss the logistics of it later, once I had a better idea of what I was capable of offering, and if the boy seemed open to seeing more of me.
“Hello?” she answered.
“Anja. It’s Stefan,” I said.
“Hey. I’m glad you called,” she said, sounding relieved.
Hearing her voice, I realized I was still angry at her. Even though most of my fury was rightfully directed at my father for instigating and enabling the whole disappearance, I still couldn’t help feeling frustrated and betrayed over the fact that Anja had been fully capable of reaching out to me for the last eight plus years—had had every opportunity to contact me and tell me that we had a son—but instead chose to remain silent and hidden.
And I still didn’t know if I could trust her.
It was then that I realized I didn’t know what name to use. She’d mentioned that my father had helped her get a whole new identity; surely she wouldn’t go by Anja anymore.
“What name do you use now?” I asked. “Should I call you something else?”
