Page 93 of The Lovely Return


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Fuck.

Lily nods. “Some are masks, but most are makeup. Makeup takes longer, but it’s more comfortable than wearing a mask, especially if it’s hot.”

“If you want a guinea pig, you can experiment with makeup on me,” I offer. “Maybe you can do something cool with my missing eye.”

My daughter’s eyes light up. “That would be wild. Maybe we can put a fake axe coming out of your face, with blood oozing out of your eye socket.”

Penny spears marshmallows on long metal skewers and passes them around. We hold them over the fire, mesmerized by the oozing marshmallow. I wonder if my soul is going to melt the same way when I’m burning in hell for falling for an eighteen-year-old girl.

“Oh my God, Dad. You weren’t kidding. This is amazing,” Lily says after her first bite of the marshmallow sandwiched with crackers and chocolate. “How have I never had these before?”

I restrain myself from telling her it’s because she was raised by assholes who didn’t let their daughters—or granddaughter—have sugar or do anything fun.

“It’s not as good as the Dusty Road,” Penny says, smiling my way.

“What’s that?” Lily asks. Guilt crawls up my spine. Lily and I should have little secret things that are just between us, but we don’t.

“It’s my new favorite sundae,” Penny answers.

My cock throbs when she licks marshmallow and chocolate off her fingers, glancing at me to see if I’m watching her.

Of course I’m watching her. It’s been an epic struggle to not watch her. And not just because she’s beautiful, but because every time our eyes lock, my heart pounds to life.

I remind myself again that I’m here to spend quality time with my daughter and shouldn’t be letting myself get distracted. I force myself to keep my mind off Penny while the three of us sit by the fire. Lily comes to life in the dark and tells us stories about real haunted places she’s read about and wants to visit someday.

“Did Mom believe in ghosts or the paranormal?” she asks, making another s’more.

Smiling at memories of all the strange conversations Bri used to start, I say, “Your mom was fascinated with anything mind-bending. She loved to talk about all sorts of weird things like missing person cases, lost cities, reincarnation, magic tricks, art. You would’ve loved her.”

Lily looks wistful. “I wish I could’ve met her. She sounds really cool. Sometimes, I have dreams that she’s still here.”

“Me too, kiddo. Me too.”

“I’m sure she’s always here, watching over you,” Penny says. “Like a guardian angel.”

I wonder if that same guardian angel is also watching over me.

Chapter 29

ALEX

Around midnight, we clean up and the girls crawl into their tent. I make sure it’s zipped, say good night, and walk out to the pier with a Stephen King book that I swiped from Lily’s bookshelf earlier. Leaning back against one of the dock posts, I clip a tiny book light to the pages and start reading. After a while, the chatter and giggling drifting from the girls’ tent stops.

I snap a picture of the starry sky, then text it to Penny with the message:

Sweet dreams, beautiful. Your smile is brighter than all the stars.

I’m on chapter eight when I hear the faint sound of a zipper, then soft footsteps padding through the grass.

I turn the book light toward the edge of the pier, wondering if it’s Lily.

Hoping it’s Penny.

“What are you doing out here?” I whisper when she kneels next to me.

“I couldn’t sleep. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

I let out a resolved sigh. “I’ve been thinking about you, too.”

“It was sweet of you to do all this tonight.” Smiling, she reaches out and pushes my hair off my forehead. “You’re such a good dad.”

“You shouldn’t be out here… what if Lily sees us?”

“She took a Benadryl for her allergies so she wouldn’t be all congested in the morning. Trust me, she’s out like a light. I can never wake her after she takes one of those.”

“Penny…”

“I just want to sit here and stare up at the stars with you. Can we do that?”

My pulse whirs with the desire to be close to her and the fear of getting caught.

A lethal cocktail.

“Come here.” Putting the book to the side, I motion for her to sit between my legs. When she leans her back against my chest, I wrap my arms around her.

Sighing with contentment, her head falls back into the crook of my neck. I turn my face into her hair, inhaling the coconut scent of her shampoo, and clasp her hands in mine.

“I love being with you. You make my heart go crazy,” she whispers, pressing my hand over her chest. “Do you feel it?”

I do. I can feel it fluttering through her dress.

“You do the same to mine.”

She moves our hands in slow circles over her heart. “Do you feel that buzzing?” she asks in a hushed tone.

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