Trillion(64)

Sophie was dynamite in bed, always. She had no inhibitions. No insecurities. Willing to try anything to please me. And she was exceedingly generous with an unrivaled, insatiable libido.

At the time, I was convinced she was a phase.

I was always going to marry Ana … we were just waiting for stars to align. I never wanted children. She did. Deep down we both knew one of us would succumb to the other’s wishes eventually.

The stars aligned when Sophie discovered she was pregnant.

The way I saw it, I had two options—lose Ana forever and become the laughingstock of the Ames name when word got out that I’d knocked up a high school girl … or buy Sophie off and create the family Ana dreamed of so she’d finally agree to marry me.

The latter seemed like a win-win situation for everyone.

So while I hurt Sophie—deeply, I’m sure—in the end, it was in the best interest of all involved. Sasha is thriving and loved and she’ll never have to want for anything so long as she lives. Sophie wouldn’t have been able to give her that. She could’ve given her love. Maybe a leaking roof over her head and a handful of used books from the thrift shop. A questionable public school education. Ten hours a day at a mediocre daycare center. Store brand macaroni and cheese and processed hot dogs for dinner.

But my child deserved more than that—even if she’ll never know I’m her biological father.

I could never risk Ana finding out …

I’d have lost her for good.

My wife’s lithe body is hunched over me as she coaxes me to the edge as she’s done a thousand times before …

… but this time it’s different.

The lights go out at the cottage.

An image flashes in my head—Trey driving himself deep inside Sophie, the excitement of new love, the insatiable sex drive of a relationship not yet marred by commitment and fatherhood. And then I think of those long weekends holed up in a Chicago hotel room, Sophie worshipping my body as I feasted on hers, content with fine diners, sweet nothings, and empty promises.

My cock hardens, my body stiffens, and molten jealousy in the form of cum shoots into my wife’s throat. She swallows in one gulp and wears a smile tinged in exhausted relief before trotting off to the bathroom to clean up.

Had Sophie not fallen pregnant, I’m not sure how much longer we’d have carried on, but at the time, I was taking things day by day. Did I love the girl? No. Not even close. But I loved how I felt when I was with her. Young. Exuberant. Carefree. While Anabelle made me feel loved, Sophie made me feel alive—two completely distinct experiences.

Anabelle was, is, and forever will be my first love.

For a brief period in my life, Sophie Bristol was my weakness.

And now she’s his.

But not for long.

First chance I get tomorrow, I’m putting a stop to their happily ever after.





Forty-Seven





Sophie

Present



I wake as the sun rises Saturday morning and spot the pool out our bedroom window. Trey is sound asleep. Last night’s dinner was exhausting with all its superficial small talk and the subtle and sometimes blatant scrutinizing from the other side of the table.

I’m not sure Nolan is entirely convinced.

Climbing out of bed so as not to wake Trey, I slip into a t-shirt and robe, make a coffee in the guest cottage kitchen, and quietly slip out the door to enjoy the pool solo. I can’t remember the last time I so much as dipped my toes in a pool. Maybe a few years ago on a girls’ trip to Jamaica? But we mostly hung out by the ocean, sipping Mai Tais and burying our feet in the soft sand.

The still water glistens in the sun, reflecting the light above, and I perch on the edge of the pool, sliding my legs in until it stops at my knees. Closing my eyes, I breathe in the salty air and focus on the present moment, forgetting, for a second, where I am.

Today I get to meet my daughter for the first time in eight years. The heaviness of that isn’t lost on me. I promise myself I’ll be happy for her, that I’ll spend time with her, but I’ll try not to get too attached. Years from now, she probably won’t remember this day, but I will.

I’ll cherish it as long as I live.

All this time, I should’ve been ignoring the fact that I have to spend a weekend with Nolan and focusing on the gift I’m getting in return—time with Sasha.

The whoosh of the sliding glass door forces me into the moment. I turn, praying it’s only Anabelle.

It isn’t.

“You’re up early,” Nolan says. He’s dressed in khaki shorts embroidered with palm trees and a white t-shirt that skims his dad-bod, as casual as I’ve ever seen him and hardly recognizable from the man I knew a lifetime ago. He takes a seat on a lounge chair and moves it closer, until we’re separated by an intrusive couple of feet. “Good job yesterday, by the way. Very convincing.”

The warm air arounds me turns unwelcomingly brisk, covering my skin in goosebumps, and the sun hides behind a cloud—as if she knows.

But I push the sensations away. I didn’t cower yesterday. I won’t cower now.

“Convincing?” I scoff. “No idea what you’re talking about.”

“Psh. I know what you’re up to. I don’t appreciate being manipulated.”

“Manipulated in what way?”