Page 72 of Wretched Love


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I smiled weakly. “I know.”

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” she asked with audible concern. “Daddy said he hasn’t been able to see you yet because of work. You must be so lonely.”

I choked down her words. “Sweetie, please don’t worry about me. It’s my job to worry about you. I’m fine. I’m great, actually. I just miss you.”

“I miss you too, Momma,” she said with a hitch in her voice.

“I love you,” I whispered.

“I love you more,” she replied.

Then she was gone.

And I promptly hung up the phone, turned into Swiss’s chest and burst into tears.

“I’d like to meet her,” Swiss said while drawing circles on my back.

I was naked and splayed against his torso, several hours after dinner.

After my crying jag that had lasted for about ten minutes. Swiss had held me tight in his arms, rubbed my back and didn’t say a word.

Once I was done, I was incredibly embarrassed at my outburst and had wanted to retreat to Swiss’s room. But everyone else wouldn’t hear of it, and Caroline had hugged me—fighting Swiss to let go of me—and had poured me a very large glass of wine.

It was then I managed to get myself together, Swiss watching me closely.

After the drinks that we had with dessert. The board games that everyone had played. Bikers played board games.

Bikers also got very passionate about board games, with Swiss nearly stabbing Lucas for ‘cheating.’

That was when the game ended, and Swiss and I commenced games of our own.

I was delightfully sore and satisfied.

“Meet who?” I asked sleepily.

“Violet,” he replied.

I was instantly awake and trying my best not to tense all of my muscles, something Swiss would’ve noticed.

My heart dropped. Then it cracked.

I wanted nothing more than for Swiss to meet Violet. For a multitude of reasons. Because I was immensely proud of the person my daughter was. Because I wanted him to see that. Because I wanted him to see that part of me. She was a huge chunk of who I was. She was most of my heart… He was what remained. I wanted Violet to see how I was with him. To see the real version of her mother. When she was happy. When she wasn’t terrified, putting on an act.

I wanted to integrate these different versions of myself so I could turn this into something permanent. Violet would be fascinated by club life. The conservative part of me would want to protect her from some of the racier realities, but my daughter was now an adult. In Europe, where she was legally allowed to drink. She was sleeping with a man years older than her. I could not imagine that this life would be a negative influence on her.

If anything, I wanted her to learn from it. See how these men loved their women. See how these women loved their children, loved each other, were unapologetically themselves.

Violet would adore all of them and idolize them immediately.

“I know it’s soon,” Swiss said. “And that this is probably worlds away from how she grew up…” he trailed off, and I got his meaning.

I’d been quiet for so long, he’d interpreted my silence as me having reservations. He was insinuating that I could possibly think the club wasn’t good enough for my daughter. The fact that he thought that was horrifying, as was the vulnerability in his voice.

I turned, propping myself up with my elbow so I could look into his eyes. The dim light from the lamp beside the bed illuminated the tenderness in his gaze. I lifted up my other hand to gently cup his jaw. “I would love for Violet to meet you,” I said honestly, my words tasting like acid because I knew there was no way in hell he’d ever meet her. Meeting her would expose all of my lies. “I would love for her to see the club, to meet your family. She would adore it.” I paused, thinking of my daughter in this atmosphere. “Though she’d likely challenge Hansen on the rule about women not being able to patch in,” I added on a smile.

Swiss’s eyes lightened. “I would like to see that,” he murmured.

“She would like you,” I told him, again with more of that honesty that burned my insides.

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