Page 92 of The Daddy’s Girl

I place my feet on the floor and prepare myself to face the angry young man still lurking in the doorway. My clothes are down in the guest bedroom, which means I will have to face him in my underwear with my stiff morning wood aching inside them.

When I stand up and turn toward Julian, his eyes glance downward only briefly before a look of disgust crosses his face.

“Get. Out,” he snarls.

I hold up my hand again to silence him. Then I wave him out, following him into the hallway and shutting her door quietly behind me.

“Let’s talk,” I say as I lead the way down the hall toward the stairs.

I hate the feel of my godson’s disappointment. I’ve always respected Julian. When he was coming of age, learning to accept his bisexuality, he came to me for guidance. Which…for anyone who knows Julian…is quite surprising. He doesn’t open up to anyone, and he never puts himself in a place of vulnerability.

But this was one area where I could offer my experience and be a father figure to him. And now I’m the one being scolded.

When we reach the main level, I continue toward the stairs that lead to the guest wing of the house. He lingers at the top of the stairs.

“Let me get dressed. I’ll be right back.”

I quickly throw on my clothes, a ball of dread sitting heavy on my chest. Having been in this storm of desire with Amelia, I nearly forgot how it would look to outsiders. These past days have changed my perspective so much that I forgot just how wrong and forbidden this is.

I am almost thirty years older than her. I held her as a baby. I am her godfather.

And I hate the idea that I will have to defend what we are now, which is completely different from what we were before. She might as well be an entirely different person in my eyes.

When I reach the kitchen, where Julian is stationed with his arms crossed angrily over his chest, I put my hands up in surrender.

“How long has this been going on?” he demands.

I let out a sigh and put my hands in my pockets to remain calm. “It just happened. Two nights ago.”

His nostrils flare with anger. “Do my parents know?”

“No.”

His jaw clenches. “Are you planning on telling them?”

“No.”

“So you just fuck my sister and treat her like a dirty secret?” Pacing angrily, his feet carry him in back-and-forth circles around the kitchen. As he digs his hand into his hair, I watch him muss up the perfect slicked-back form.

“Mind your tongue, son.”

He stops and glares at me through hooded, icy blue eyes. “Don’t call me that, and don’t fucking tell me what to do. Matis, what the fuck were you thinking? This is going to kill my dad. You know that, right? You’ve known us our entire lives!” His face screws up in disgust. “Oh God, did you…”

I step forward, putting a hand up to stop him right there. “Two days ago, Julian. This started two fucking days ago. There was never a single inappropriate thought about her before then. Don’t you dare accuse me of something so vile. I have done nothing but love and protect both of you. I care about this family, and you know it.”

Throwing his hands up, he huffs. “Do you? Because you’re treating my little sister like she’s just another one of your…your…”

He stutters on his words, surely caught on something he doesn’t want to say out loud, not where Amelia is concerned. So I quickly ease his doubts.

“I love her.”

He freezes, his eyes narrowing. “What do you mean?”

Glancing back toward the stairs, I watch them to be sure Amelia is still asleep and can’t hear everything I’m about to confess. The sentiment I’m about to express is a surprise to even me.

“I mean that I love her, Julian. Not like a godfather. And I don’t know when the hell this happened, but I do know that staying away from her another second surely would have killed me, because denying ourselves was torture.”

With every word that comes out of my mouth, his furrowed brow softens until finally, he’s staring at me with more pity than condemnation.