Fortuity: A Standalone Contemporary Romance (The Transcend Series Book 3)

by Jewel E. Ann

  Yes, my hair has always been my most attractive trait. That’s why it was the first to go when I declared my man ban. No need to deal with a swarm of men chasing my mane. I’m only eighty percent exaggerating.

  By the time I got my first period, nobody cared. My friends and their big boobs had moved on to grown-up things, like tampons and letting boys in school feel their big boobs. Nobody cared about Gracelyn Glock’s official debut into womanhood. No parties were thrown for me. My mom simply curled my long hair behind my ear, smiled, then retrieved a sanitary napkin from one of her apron pockets. “Sticky side down, Gracelyn. There’s more under the sink. And change it every time you go to the bathroom so you don’t smell.”

  I was a straight A student. Can we talk about how insulting it was that she felt the need to tell me sticky side down?

  “Morgan?” I knock on her bedroom door. “Can I come in? It’s just me.”

  The door creaks open an inch. A big blue eye peers at me. “I don’t want to talk to him right now.”

  I contain my smile. “It’s just me.”

  She opens the door. I step inside and close it as she plops onto her bed.

  “I brought you some pads.” I hold up the bag.

  She rolls her eyes. “He told you. Has he told everyone? Does Gabe know?”

  “No. Just me. He thought I might have some pads to get you by until you go to the store. How are you feeling?”

  She hugs her stomach. “Prostaglandins are definitely causing my uterus muscles to contract. I’m achy.”

  I stare at her unblinking.

  She shrugs. “I have a book about girls. My dad thinks it’s about making friendship bracelets and stuff like that. It’s not. It’s about our changing bodies.”

  I grin and nod. “Sounds like a good book. If you’re not feeling well, you could try a warm compress on your belly. Pain relievers are an option too, but you’d have to discuss that with your dad.” I set the pads on the bed beside her. “These are really absorbent pads. You shouldn’t need more than just regular pads. So when your dad takes you shopping, look for regular ones. It’s up to you if you want wings. They can protect your underwear. I personally don’t love them because they stick to … everything.” My lips pull into a tight grin.

  “Like your pubic hair?”

  “Yes.” I chuckle. “Like that.”

  She folds her hands in her lap, legs dangling from the side of the bed.

  “Listen … I’ve never been a mom, so I’m not an expert on all mom things, but I’m a girl. So if you ever need a girl to talk to about…” I shrug “…anything, you can talk to me. Okay?”

  Morgan’s gaze lifts from her hands to meet the sincerity in my eyes. I feel we’re having a moment. It’s not maternal; it’s friendship. I think she views me as her friend, and I really like that.

  “Anything?”

  I nod. “Yes. We are friends. Nothing is off the table.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. You know where to find me if you need anything else.” I turn to open the door.

  “What does a penis taste like?”

  I freeze. She didn’t say penis. No way. I heard her wrong. “Wh-what’s that?” I ask without looking back at her.

  “A penis. Does it taste like any other part of the body?”

  Fuuuck!

  “Um …”

  Now would be a good time for an earthquake or a meteor to take out the West Coast.

  A stroke.

  A heart attack.

  A sinkhole to engulf this house.

  “It’s no secret my dad likes you. If you want to have sex with him, that’s okay too. I’m not stupid. I know people have sex even when they’re not making babies. And I know a little about oral sex from my book—the one my dad thinks is about friendship bracelets—but it only explains what it is, not why people do it. I guess I’m just wondering if you like the taste of penises. I can’t imagine they taste good, but my dad also says you have to try something fifteen times before you know if you really like it or not. He also said some things are …” She snaps her fingers several times. “What’s the word he used …” More finger snapping. “Oh! An acquired taste.”

  This isn’t my normal time of the month to get hot flashes, but every sweat gland in my body just emptied onto my skin, drowning me in embarrassment. It takes me a few seconds to remember I’m forty-one and Morgan is ten.

  Time to act like the grown-up.

  Turning, I bite my lips together so hard I’m certain I’ll have permanent indentations.

  Her nose wrinkles when she sees my unavoidable reaction. “I think I saw something in the kitchen I wasn’t supposed to see.”

  I nod slowly, taking a seat beside her so we can stare at the door instead of each other. “I think you’re quite advanced for ten, but I’m still not sure what is or isn’t appropriate to discuss with you. Still …” I scratch my forehead. “I think you know more than I want to imagine and definitely more than your dad wants to imagine. So let me just say that I am so very sorry that you saw what you did.”

  “I’m not mad.”

  I chuckle. “Well, that’s good. Really. However, you deserve to be ten. Even if you know things that kids older than you don’t know, it doesn’t mean you should be any other age but ten. You shouldn’t see what you saw. And again, I’m incredibly sorry about that. I’m glad you have books that explain things to you, but please don’t forget your job is to play Frisbee and comb beaches for shells. It’s okay to think about what it will feel like the first time a boy kisses you, but no more than you should think about driving a car. It’s out there … you’ll get there, but it shouldn’t be rushed.”

  Morgan draws in a slow breath and blows it out all at once, her body deflating. “You’re not going to tell me what a penis tastes like, are you?”

  I rub my hands over my face and shake my head. “No,” I mumble before dropping my hands back to my lap.

  “Do you think you’ll marry my dad? Hunter said her mom isn’t her real mom, but her stepmom. She said her real mom met another man, and her dad got married to a different woman last year. Hunter got to be one of the bridesmaids and wear a really pretty dress. I guess I’m just wondering if I’ll get to be a bridesmaid if you marry my dad.”

  Ugh …

  I scoot to face her, resting my hand on her leg. “You said you know people don’t always have sex just to have babies?”

  She nods.

  “Well, sometimes when adults like each other, they kiss and do … other things. It doesn’t always mean they will get married. I like your dad. He’s handsome and fun and a great dad to you, but you have a home and family waiting for you in Wisconsin. That’s where you belong. And I have Gabe now. His home is here. His friends are here, so this is where I now belong. I am just one of many friends you and your dad have met over your time traveling the world. We are friends. You and I. Your dad and I.”

  I squeeze her hand and she grins.

  “And I hope we will be friends forever. Pen pals.” I wink at her.

  “I’d like that. Maybe I can email you.” She smirks.

  It’s funny how she thinks emailing me would be such a coup. “The possibilities are endless.”

  “Maybe you and Gabe could come visit us in Madison.”

  “Maybe. Now …” I pat her leg and stand again. “I’m going to see what Gabe’s up to. If you need any help with your period, don’t feel embarrassed to ask your dad. He’s a doctor, you know.”

  “No way. I’m not talking to him about this. He’ll make it weird,” says the girl who just asked me what a penis tastes like.

  “Okay. Then I’m your person.”

  “Thanks, Gracelyn. I bet my mom was cool like you.”

  I don’t know why this brings tears to my eyes, but it does. “Thank you, Morgan,” I whisper before leaving her room.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Nathaniel

  “Everything okay?” I ask as soon as Gracelyn comes down the stairs aft
er being up there for a long time.

  She gives me nothing but a look. Maybe a weird look. It’s definitely a hard stare, like I’m supposed to read her mind or something. I’m not sure. She brushes past me and out the door to the deck. I follow her.

  She turns, hands clasped behind her back. “Shut the door,” she whispers.

  Narrowing my eyes for a brief moment, I shut the exterior door and the screen door. “What happened?”

  “First, I just want to say that whatever you thought you owed me before … take it times ten now.” Her lips curl inward as she gives me a toothy—kind of scary—grin.

  “Okay. Can you elaborate?”

  “Where to begin …” Her lips twist and she rubs her chin, eyes rolled to the side. “Do I start with the fact that she did see what we were doing in the kitchen? Or do I tell you how I know this which is …” Her gaze returns to mine, eyes slightly narrowed. “She said … and I quote, ‘What does a penis taste like?’”

  “Oh god …”

  Her lips part. “Uh … yeah. Oh God. Jesus. Lord. And Mother Mary. I wanted to die. Legit die.”

  I cringe. “I’m sorry. I can’t believe she …” Closing my eyes, I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I shouldn’t be surprised.” Dropping my hand, I sigh. “I’ve taught her … encouraged her to be curious, to always ask lots of questions. I’ve never sheltered her from the truth.”

  “Good job, Dad of the Year. Now bend down, lick your dick, and go tell your daughter how it tastes.” She turns and heads for the steps.

  “Stop!” I grab her arm and turn her back toward me. “I’m serious. What did you say?”

  Gracelyn rolls her eyes, a clear sign that she spent too much time with my eye-rolling daughter. “The truth. I said it tastes briny with a hint of copper and rust like an oyster. I told her it’s the most succulent, mouthwatering thing she will ever experience.”

  I release her arm and have a mini stroke right here on the deck.

  “Don’t collapse, Daddy-O.” She gently slaps my cheek several times. “I didn’t answer her question. I stressed the importance of letting herself be ten and innocent. I apologized more than once for letting her see what she saw. And that’s about it.”

  Still in shock from the briny and succulent remarks, I blink several times. “H-how … w-what did she say?”

  “She said you’re an overprotective, neurotic, freak of a dad and begged me to show her the ropes of being a true woman before you guys go home in August.”

  I frown, not finding her humor too funny in light of my recent mini stroke. “I live next door to Satan.”

  She grins. “Don’t be so hard on Mr. Hans. He’s not evil all the time.” She pivots and saunters home.

  I tell myself it’s not the appropriate time to watch the sway of her ass … then I do it anyway.

  “I’m ready.” Morgan opens the door.

  I turn. “Ready … yes. Um … let’s go to the store. Maybe we can go out to dinner. How does that sound?”

  “Whatevs …” She breezes past me. “I just have to watch my salt intake because it’s my bloated time.”

  Gone. My little girl is gone.

  Stifling my chuckle, I close the door and follow her to the car.

  “Hey, wanna go Rollerblading with me and Gracelyn?” Gabe asks, sitting in their driveway and shoving his feet into skates.

  “Sorry …” Morgan flips her hair over her shoulder before opening the car door. “I have some personal and grown-up things to do. Maybe in three to five days.”

  “Uh …” Gabe squints against the sun and shrugs. “Whatever.”

  I cough to hide my amusement while sliding into the vehicle. On the way to the store, I contemplate discussing the blow job intrusion with her. Of course, I’d find a better way to phrase it. Her lack of conversation—which is odd for her—keeps me silent as well. Maybe the best thing is time.

  “This aisle.” I nod to the aisle with personal hygiene products.

  “Um …” Morgan turns and presses her palm to my stomach. “I’ve got this. Please wait here.”

  I hold up my hands. “Fine. I’ll wait here.”

  Thankfully, there is no one else in the aisle as my little-girl-turned-woman-overnight scuffs her flip-flop clad feet down the aisle. She stops and faces right, leaning forward a bit to study the products. After a minute or so, she grabs a package and walks toward me with her chin held high.

  “Got it. Let’s go.”

  I pluck the package from her hands.

  “Dad!” she whisper yells like I’ve embarrassed her.

  “These are underwear for urinary incontinence.” I hand them back to her with a smirk glued to my face. “Want to try again? Or would you like my help?”

  She scowls. “I’ve got it.”

  Again, I hold up my hands in surrender. She stomps her feet back down the aisle and takes a good five minutes to locate the right products, pick one out, and return to me with them hugged to her chest.

  “Think I should take a look and make sure you got the right product?”

  Another evil look gets slung in my direction. “No. It’s the right thing this time.”

  “Okay … let’s go.”

  We stop for pizza. Morgan asks me how much salt is in everything we order. I assure her it’s all low sodium. Some lies are okay. Right now, I want to have a fun dinner with my daughter and talk about her trip to Disneyland instead of feeding her concerns of menstrual cycles and water retention.

  *

  As it approaches bedtime, I get the nerve to broach the subject I’ve been dreading all day. Shutting off the TV after back-to-back documentaries, I angle my body on the sofa to face Morgan. “About earlier … when you got home—”

  “I talked with Gracelyn. She already apologized.”

  I nod slowly. “Okay. But I didn’t apologize because I honestly didn’t know what you did or didn’t see. So I’m sorry. I know you’re very smart, and you know more than most kids your age, but reading about something and seeing it are two different things. I just …”

  “I’ve seen your penis before. It’s no big deal.”

  I cringe. Yes, my daughter, who has never prioritized privacy until the past six months, has walked into many bathrooms to brush her teeth while I’ve showered. She’s seen me. I’ve seen her. We’re family. It’s just anatomy. However, seeing someone suck said penis is not the kind of openness I’ve ever wanted to display to her. I fear that she’s not making a big deal of it now, but years from now she will think back and her mind will scream, “Gross! I saw the neighbor lady giving my dad head!”

  “Still, I’m sorry. I felt like a terrible dad. And I learned an embarrassing and hard lesson. You know I think it’s important to never act like I don’t make mistakes. It’s important to acknowledge when I mess up. I messed up.”

  “I forgive you.”

  She’s amazing, but I’m not stupid. That will haunt her someday. I’d better put some money away for future therapy.

  “Thank you. Now … it’s time for the tuck, young lady.”

  “Daaad … we’re done with that. Remember?”

  Why must she keep reminding me of her premature independence?

  “Fine.” I grab her and sling her onto my lap, tickling her. “Then just a kiss and tickle goodnight.”

  “Stop! Stop!” She giggles while trying to wriggle out of my hold.

  After I shower her with kisses all over her face and neck, I let her go.

  She steps back, out of breath while peeling hair from her face and cringing. “You made my pad get all wrinkled and shoved up into my area.” She tugs at the crotch of her shorts. “You can’t do that to me when I’m having my period.”

  My eyes grow wide, and I nod once. “Very sorry.”

  She frowns. “You’re forgiven this time. Just don’t do it again, please.”

  Again, I find myself holding my hands up in surrender. Letting go … I’m constantly having to remind myself to let go … let her be her. The butterfly emer
ging from its chrysalis.

  She blows me one more kiss. “Night, Daddy. I love you.”

  “I love you too. Sweet dreams.”

  After picking up our popcorn mess and movie blanket fort, I grab a beer and escape to the porch.

  “Nice night.”

  I squint to see Mr. Hans, but it’s only an outline on his porch swing.

  “It is. Sorry to hear Hunter is sick, but I want to thank you again for taking Morgan. She had the best time, even if it was only two days. I fear I’m now destined to make a return trip with her.”

  “Oh, gosh … it was my pleasure. She’s such a great kid, and Gabe is too. Hunter was thrilled to have them there. However, I see my other tenant had a mishap with my tile and a bottle of wine.”

  “Send me the bill. Don’t tell her I’m paying for it, but send me the bill.”

  “I think I can just take out that one piece of tile and replace it, as long as I still have one or two of those tiles left over. Otherwise, I’ll have to replace the whole entry. I’m not sure you want to pay for that. Honestly, I’m tempted to just toss a rug there and not worry about it. She felt really terrible about it.”

  “Send me the bill. Really. Either for your time if you do have a tile to replace it or for all new tile.”

  “You rich or something?” He chuckles.

  “Or something …” I take a swig of my beer.

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you like her.”

  Rolling the mouth of the bottle along my bottom lip, I inwardly grin. “Oh yeah? What makes you think that?”

  “I’ve seen you two together. I may be old, but I know how a man looks at a woman who he’s smitten with. Boy … you’ve got that look.”

  I chuckle. “Smitten … haven’t heard that word in a while.” My dad used to tell everyone how smitten I was with Daisy Gallagher, my childhood friend. He wasn’t wrong.

  “Morgan said her mom died while giving birth to her. You and Elvis have that lost love in common. I’m in that group too.”

  “Gracelyn’s fiancé left her at the altar; he didn’t die. Did he?” I ask.

  “Nah … another guy … in her early twenties. Some kind of heart condition took him. He didn’t get a transplant in time.”