Blair said with her smile lighting up her hazel irises. Her long black hair was swept up into a bun, and she glanced over her shoulder as our daughter came running down the hallway behind her.
“Daddy, Daddy,” Lucy called. Her brown-haired pigtails bounced with every step. Pushing past her mother, she leapt into my arms. Blair leaned against the doorway watching as I hugged her tight.
“Hey, Boo Bear,” I said, calling her the nickname I created the moment she was born.
At three years old she held my heart in her tiny innocent hands.
Blair and I dated a few years back, and when she found out she was pregnant I wanted to marry her. I loved her, or so I thought.
On the day I planned to propose, I found her in our apartment fucking my half-brother and my heart shattered into a million pieces.
The worst part of the whole fiasco was the fact my daughter was inside her as she fucked him.
I blew up and never spoke to my brother again. Blair, however, was a different story. We shared joint custody of our daughter and I remained pleasant whenever I saw her, for Lucy’s sake. Even though Blair tried desperately to creep back into my good graces ever since I left her, I would never forgive her betrayal.
“She just ate, so she’s ready to go,” Blair said, handing me Lucy’s red backpack.
“Have fun, see you on Tuesday.”
We waved goodbye, and I kissed Lucy’s bright red cheeks as I carried her to the car.
“Ready to get out of here?” I asked as I buckled her into the car seat
“Ready,” she squealed.
We were off and I couldn’t wait to get her home. I missed her when she wasn’t around.
Being a father changed my life, and my daughter was everything to me. Somedays, I didn’t know how I would make it from one day to the next. Was I scared? Fuck yeah, I was. I worried about everything. Life was good as a real estate investor, and the bills were always paid. But the dream of one day owning a bar wasn’t going away, and I wanted to give it a go. Living in South Beach the clubs along Ocean Drive were the pulse of the city. I wanted a piece of it.
And now at thirty years old, I sank most of my money into the Goat, and I needed this to work.
Life was hard though, finding love and companionship was a no-go.
Chaos, headaches, and utter madness were a part of my regular routine and I wouldn’t have it any other way. The life of a single father left me little time for love.
EIGHT
PENNY
“I bet no one could make you come as hard as I can.”
“You did,” my mind screamed.
For the next two days after the club incident I never left my apartment. I cleaned, and cleaned some more. Sweeping, mopping, and scrubbing every part of the tile floors—anything to keep my mind occupied. Anything to not think about the look on Theo’s face when I told him about my boyfriend. When he slammed his hand against the wall I felt the devastation pour off him.
I avoided Dex’s phone calls. He called a few times over the past few weeks, and every time I asked about coming home he would have to rush off the phone. Confusion over everything took up residence deep within me. As much as I tried to think about anything else, Theo’s hurt expression kept rolling through my overactive mind. I was a bitch for not stopping it sooner.
Having his hands on me was something I never thought I’d experience again. Or want, to be honest, after the way he treated me at the bar. My body pulled to his, fucking traitor, and I needed to stay far away.
I was the worst girlfriend ever.
When Saturday morning arrived, work was on the agenda.
As I finished getting ready, smoothing lotion down my legs, Margo threw herself on my bed.
“Fuck my life,” she complained as she covered both arms over her eyes. Her blonde curly waves splayed over the bright orange pillowcase.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, looking over at her.
She propped up onto her elbows and glared. “Hottie fighter has a whore girlfriend.”
I
“Daddy, Daddy,” Lucy called. Her brown-haired pigtails bounced with every step. Pushing past her mother, she leapt into my arms. Blair leaned against the doorway watching as I hugged her tight.
“Hey, Boo Bear,” I said, calling her the nickname I created the moment she was born.
At three years old she held my heart in her tiny innocent hands.
Blair and I dated a few years back, and when she found out she was pregnant I wanted to marry her. I loved her, or so I thought.
On the day I planned to propose, I found her in our apartment fucking my half-brother and my heart shattered into a million pieces.
The worst part of the whole fiasco was the fact my daughter was inside her as she fucked him.
I blew up and never spoke to my brother again. Blair, however, was a different story. We shared joint custody of our daughter and I remained pleasant whenever I saw her, for Lucy’s sake. Even though Blair tried desperately to creep back into my good graces ever since I left her, I would never forgive her betrayal.
“She just ate, so she’s ready to go,” Blair said, handing me Lucy’s red backpack.
“Have fun, see you on Tuesday.”
We waved goodbye, and I kissed Lucy’s bright red cheeks as I carried her to the car.
“Ready to get out of here?” I asked as I buckled her into the car seat
“Ready,” she squealed.
We were off and I couldn’t wait to get her home. I missed her when she wasn’t around.
Being a father changed my life, and my daughter was everything to me. Somedays, I didn’t know how I would make it from one day to the next. Was I scared? Fuck yeah, I was. I worried about everything. Life was good as a real estate investor, and the bills were always paid. But the dream of one day owning a bar wasn’t going away, and I wanted to give it a go. Living in South Beach the clubs along Ocean Drive were the pulse of the city. I wanted a piece of it.
And now at thirty years old, I sank most of my money into the Goat, and I needed this to work.
Life was hard though, finding love and companionship was a no-go.
Chaos, headaches, and utter madness were a part of my regular routine and I wouldn’t have it any other way. The life of a single father left me little time for love.
EIGHT
PENNY
“I bet no one could make you come as hard as I can.”
“You did,” my mind screamed.
For the next two days after the club incident I never left my apartment. I cleaned, and cleaned some more. Sweeping, mopping, and scrubbing every part of the tile floors—anything to keep my mind occupied. Anything to not think about the look on Theo’s face when I told him about my boyfriend. When he slammed his hand against the wall I felt the devastation pour off him.
I avoided Dex’s phone calls. He called a few times over the past few weeks, and every time I asked about coming home he would have to rush off the phone. Confusion over everything took up residence deep within me. As much as I tried to think about anything else, Theo’s hurt expression kept rolling through my overactive mind. I was a bitch for not stopping it sooner.
Having his hands on me was something I never thought I’d experience again. Or want, to be honest, after the way he treated me at the bar. My body pulled to his, fucking traitor, and I needed to stay far away.
I was the worst girlfriend ever.
When Saturday morning arrived, work was on the agenda.
As I finished getting ready, smoothing lotion down my legs, Margo threw herself on my bed.
“Fuck my life,” she complained as she covered both arms over her eyes. Her blonde curly waves splayed over the bright orange pillowcase.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, looking over at her.
She propped up onto her elbows and glared. “Hottie fighter has a whore girlfriend.”
I
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