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I chew my bottom lip as I stare at his profile on the app.
TyrantDaddy.
It reminds me of Raphael, but then again, everything does. And I need to accept whatever we had is over now.
I reply to his message, agreeing to his call. Even if it means sitting in a video call with someone I don't know, at least it'll be some quick money. We've been burning through cash for weeks living here. At least Scott is paying for some of it.
I join the video call and note the blank screen where TyrantDaddy's photo is supposed to be.
Cocking my head to the side, I say, "You shy?"
A computer-generated voice says, "Not shy. Just want to look at you."
"What's so special about me?"
A pause follows, then he says, "Where are you?"
"My bedroom."
"Where's that?"
"I'm not telling you. What do you want to see?"
"You."
I smile nervously before lowering the computer to the bed and standing up in front of it, spinning around. I'm in nothing but PJs, and I know full-well I'm only doing this to distract myself from the pain of losing Raphael and the urge to forget I missed my first day of school.
The man doesn't say a word as I slowly slide my PJs down. But when I'm about to expose my naked chest, he growls, "Stop."
"Why? Isn't this what you wanted?"
"You do this for every man on the app?"
I sit back down. His jealous possessiveness reminds me of Raphael, and it fucking hurts. "No."
"Why me, then?"
"You... you remind me of someone," I mutter. "Can we just get this over with?"
"No. I don't want to see you naked right now. Just talk to me."
"What about?"
"I don't care. I just want to listen to you."
Biting my lower lip, I try to think of something that would interest this ghost. I launch into an explanation of the classes I missed. I don't tell him the name of the school, but I tell him how I imagined today would go.
Sometimes, it's easier to live in a make-believe reality.
And it's not like TyrantDaddy will ever find out I'm lying through gritted teeth.
Chapter 22
Raphael
1 year later
I gently tuck Austin into his crib, making sure he's safe. There's music playing softly in the background while Elise is busy chattering on her phone to one of her friends.
I stare down into the boy's sleepy face as he yawns. He's a good baby, going down easily most nights and never giving us too much trouble. But tonight, he's a little fussy, tossing and turning as I gently stroke his cheek.
"Raphael, are you coming?"
Groaning, I turn away from my son and walk toward the sound of Elise's voice.
Our relationship has only grown more strained this past year. I thought having a child together would make us grow closer, make Elise kinder. But I have the feeling she doesn't enjoy being a mother. I think she sees Austin as an accessory rather than anything meaningful, and that makes me despise her.
"We need to go," she tells me crisply. "Our reservations are at eight."
"The nanny isn't here yet," I reply firmly. "We can't leave him alone."
She rolls her eyes, adjusting her updo. "I'm not waiting. I have to be there tonight."
"Fine," I hiss. "Then you go, and I'll stay back with Austin."
"You know I hate going to these things without you."
I know full well she's trying to guilt-trip me into coming along with her, but it's not going to work this time. Elise has been dragging me to all sorts of charity events without actually giving a fuck about any of it. And every time, I dread running into Nox and Dove. I can't handle this, not tonight.
Shrugging off my suit jacket and loosening my tie, I tell her, "I'm not leaving Austin behind, but you can leave."
"Whatever." She glares at me, spraying a cloud of perfume before heading for the door. "Don't wait up."
I had thought being with Elise would make me bitter, but as it turns out, she's the one who pulled the short end of the stick. She has no connection to the kid, no motherly instincts. I'm left taking care of the boy by myself while she flits from brunch to dinner to drinks. But I don't mind. At least it means I don't have to be around her much.
Still, I don't understand why Elise is acting this way with her own son. She was excited to be a mother when we met, and even when she was pregnant, she spent hours shopping for Austin. But now that he's here, he's been abandoned by her. Discarded like one of her many designer purses in favor of a new, shinier object.
I hear the door slam as she leaves. I check on Austin again and feel a pang of guilt as I watch him sleep in his crib.
This poor boy has been cursed with two parents who hate each other. I've tried so fucking hard to be a good father, be the man my own dad never was. But I don't feel the fatherly connection with the boy. It's more of an obligation, and while there are warm feelings attached to the baby, I just don't feel like a father.
