by Kennedy Ryan
“I don’t want you to get in trouble.” Her brows pinch and her lips press together. “You have a lot to lose, Kenan. I don’t want drama in my life putting you in the news for anything other than how amazing you are. You said Bridget ruined your life. I don’t want to do that.”
“Don’t even put yourself in the same hemisphere as Bridget,” I say impatiently. “What she did is nothing like this. She betrayed me and got me caught up in a media circus.”
“Here’s a headline,” Lotus say sardonically. “NBA player arrested for assault and battery. Would that be circus enough for you?”
“You’re right about one thing.” I frame her face, tracing the delicate bones with my hands. “I have a lot to lose.” I kiss her forehead, her temple, her chin. “I have you to lose, Lotus,” I say, pulling back to hold her troubled stare. “No one will hurt you and get away with it.”
Something flickers in her eyes, and she glances down at her hands. “Only two people in my whole life have ever protected me,” she says, her voice wobbling. “Iris and MiMi. I haven’t trusted anyone else to.”
I know someone hurt her badly in the past. Her childhood trauma. I can’t think too much about how it connects to the struggle she’s been having with sex. If it’s anything like what I’ve imagined, I’m going to lose my shit when she finally tells me. Even the thought of someone harming Lotus, my tough, tiny girl, sets bloodhounds loose inside of me.
“You trust this ring to protect you,” I say, taking her hand and stroking the ring she never takes off, “because MiMi gave it to you.”
She nods, her head lowered, linking her hand with mine.
“What if she gave me to you?” I bend to whisper over her lips. “What if I’m your gris gris now?”
Her head jerks up and her eyes, darkened with emotion, fill with tears.
“I don’t believe in spells or potions or voodoo.” I put my hand over her heart, between her bare breasts. It covers most of her torso. “But I believe in this. I believe something special is happening between us, Lotus, and yeah, I’ve been hurt before. Lied to. Cheated on, but I’m not running away from this, from you, because of it. I won’t let what happened in the past keep me from giving us a chance.”
I kiss her nose and she shifts so our lips meet and cling briefly, sweetly.
“Let me protect you,” I whisper into our kiss, my hand still covering her heart.
She nods and scatters kisses over my jaw, my neck. While we were disagreeing, I didn’t pay attention to her nudity, but it pierces my consciousness now until I can’t focus on anything else. I want to explore all her body’s secrets. To inspect the gift I’ve been given.
“I wanna look at you,” I breathe across her pierced nipple, a dusky delicacy, and walk my fingers down to the lotus flower blooming around her navel. I glance up to find her studying me studying her, her grin indulgent. I trace the French lace filigreed at the tops of her thighs. My knuckle brushes her pussy, and her breath catches. Her throat moves with a deep swallow. My cock was so far down that pretty little throat last night.
“You sucked my dick, and I almost lost my mind.”
“You ain’t seen nothing yet,” she promises with a lascivious laugh.
I grin and slide my hand between her legs. “You’re wet,” I pant, my mouth watering.
“You have that effect on me.”
I tongue the smooth skin of her belly and lavish kisses between her breasts and suck the bar in her nipple between my teeth. I look down, and she’s dropped her legs open and is rubbing her clit. Her eyes are closed. Her neck arches.
“Don’t stop,” she gasps.
Hell, no, I won’t stop.
We work together—her between her legs, me at her breasts, conspiring to bring her pleasure. She’s writhing under her own hands, under my lips. I want her to come all over my sheets. The scent of her hair, the sweetness of her body—I want them to linger in this bed for days after she’s gone.
“Fuck,” she says on an expelled breath, her mouth falling open and her head pressing deep into my pillow while her body quakes and shudders.
When she quiets, I turn her over gently to feather kisses down the zipper decorating her spine, and the small flowers running along the sides.
Damn, her ass is perfect. I squeeze both round, firm globes and she gasps. I slide my finger between her cheeks and down to her pussy, spreading the juices she just poured out over the lips and then over her asshole, not daring to stick my finger in. We haven’t even had sex yet, much less anal. Lotus may not even be into that, though judging by the way she pushes her ass against the pressure of my finger and moans, she may be open-minded.
“You eat ass?” she asks suddenly, and I know she’s trying to throw me off.
“I’d eat yours,” I reply truthfully. Because there is no part of her that would not be good to me.
We both seem to find that really funny and crack up laughing. I flip her back over and pull her into me so I can feel the vibration of her happiness. I’m tickling her sides when a noise catches my attention.
“Did you hear that?” I ask, pausing, my fingers poised over her stomach.
“Yeah. Like a door?” She sits up. “Sounds like someone came into the apartment.”
“Nobody has a key, but . . .” I hop off the bed. “That has to be Simone. She’s the only one with a key.”
“Crap,” Lotus says under her breath, scrambling to get her top and skirt back on. Horror dawns on her face. “Kenan, my shoes and panties are still at the door.”
“And my pants,” I groan. “Dammit.”
I slip on sweatpants and a T-shirt, and make my way quickly to the front room. Dr. Packer had a family emergency and cancelled our last session, so we still haven’t talked to Simone about Lotus. I’d almost rather find a burglar than my daughter in the apartment right now, but it’s Bridget and Simone standing beside the pile of clothes we discarded in the foyer. Simone stares at Lotus’s panties, purse, and shoes. Bridget looks smug and furious.
“I don’t remember you being quite this sloppy, Kenan,” Bridget says, kicking our things out of their path. “Or having feet quite this small.”
“Hey,” I say, trying to keep my own anger out of my voice in front of Simone. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
I walk over and kiss Simone’s forehead.
“Morning, Moni,” I say, love-swiping her face. “I thought you had dance.”
She nods, her eyes still on Lotus’s things. “I skipped because I wanted to see Aunt Ken play.”
“I called,” Bridget says with a note of defensiveness, “but it rolled into voicemail.”
“When?” I frown at her. “I didn’t get any message. When did you call?”
“Earlier,” she says vaguely.
I’m sure she’s playing games again. I’m so sick of it.
“Whose things are those, Daddy?” Simone asks, her voice subdued, her eyes downcast.
I’m kicking myself. Yes, Bridget shouldn’t have barged into my place, but the weight of Simone’s sadness presses on me. I wish I’d pushed to have the conversation with Dr. Packer sooner, or waited to move forward with Lotus, though that’s hard to imagine given how badly I want her. My daughter is once again caught in her parents’ crosshairs—Bridget’s spitefulness and my carelessness, my lack of control. However we got to this juncture, we’re here now, and I can’t lie to her. She’s fourteen, not four. I need to respect her intelligence and the fact that she’s been exposed to a lot more than I had at her age.
“Do you remember the woman I introduced you to at the restaurant?” I ask, watching her face for signs of recognition.
“Lotus,” she says, meeting my eyes and nodding.
“Yeah. She and I are dating, Moni. She’s my girlfriend.”
Bridget gasps, and her frustration and anger grip me like a hand at my throat.
“She’s here.” I reach down to grab Lotus’s belongings. Scoop up my jeans. “I’ll be right back.”
When I walk
into my bedroom, Lotus sits on the bed, the tulle skirt flared out around her, an anxious look on her pretty face.
“Is everything okay?” she asks. “Is the coast clear?”
“Yours, I believe,” I say, offering her the panties.
She grimaces, slipping them on and her feet into the red shoes.
“The coast is not clear.” I reach for her hand and walk toward the door. “There was a, let’s call it a mix-up, to give Bridget the benefit of the doubt, and Simone is going to the game today after all.”
Lotus stops, tugging on her hand. “What are you doing?”
“Babe, she was standing beside your purse, panties, and size-six shoes, which obviously weren’t mine. She’s not stupid, and I didn’t want to lie to her. I told her you’re here, and that we’re dating.”
“Is she okay?”
That’s the question I ask myself every day. I wonder what goes on in my daughter’s quick mind—how she’s processing the changes in her life. Huge sea changes that have come in waves and thrown her world into chaos.
“She’ll be okay,” I say with more confidence than I sometimes feel. “Lying to her won’t help. Come on.”
After a brief hesitation, Lotus nods and follows me.
When we reach the living room, my daughter sits on the couch typing on her phone. With the open floor plan, I can see Bridget in my kitchen, poking around in my refrigerator.
“Do you not have any mineral water?” she yells.
I ignore her.
“Moni, you remember Lotus, right?”
She scrutinizes every detail of Lotus’s appearance, starting at her red shoes and inspecting every inch to the wild platinum curls.
“How do you get your hair to do that?” Simone asks, her brows pinched, eyes curious.
“Um, to do what?” Lotus touches her hair uncertainly.
“Curl and stuff,” Simone answers grudgingly, like even this small interest in Lotus is being dragged from her.
“Well, it wouldn’t always.” Lotus laughs dryly. “When I first tried, it wouldn’t curl at all. It’s taken me a long time to figure out the products that work for me.”
Lotus eyes Simone’s hair, scraped back into a ponytail.
“I’d guess you’re a 3C, like me,” Lotus says.
“What’s a 3C?” Simone asks.
“It’s just a hair type. There’s a system to determine hair texture. It helps you figure out the best products.” Lotus hesitates, biting her lip before speaking. “I could help you if—”
“That won’t be necessary,” Bridget snaps from the kitchen. “Kenan, I wanted to talk about tomorrow if we can.”
“About what?” I ask with deliberate calm. I have no desire to speak privately with her. We’ll just fight, and I’d rather do that under Dr. Packer’s unbiased third-party watch.
Bridget slides a meaningful look to Lotus and then back to me. I want to tell her to leave my apartment and go ruin someone else’s Sunday, but Lotus clears her throat, drawing my attention. She shakes her head subtly.
“I need to get going. I’m catching an Uber,” she says, making her way to the door. She smiles at my daughter. “It was nice seeing you again, Simone.”
Simone pretends to be occupied with her phone and flicks a longsuffering look my way, like she’s wondering why she has to endure my new girlfriend.
“Let me at least walk you out,” I tell Lotus, my hand at her back.
“No, that’s okay,” she says quickly. “I’ll talk to you later.”
I follow her out into the hall and close the door behind me.
“Kenan, go back inside,” she whispers. “Your daughter needs you. I don’t think she’s taking this well.”
“No, but we’ll work on it tomorrow in our session, when she was supposed to find out about you. I know Bridget did this on purpose trying to catch me off guard.” I run a frustrated hand over my head. “This isn’t how I saw us spending our morning.”
“How’d you see it?” Lotus asks, walking backward to the elevator, her eyes never leaving mine.
I take a few steps in her direction, closer, so I won’t have to be loud.
“Like last night,” I say softly, and glance at the closed door. ”Spending time getting to know my new girlfriend.”
The elevator opens with a ding and she steps in, holding the door for a second and meeting my eyes, no humor in sight.
“I love the sound of that,” she says, letting the doors close.
I could ask if she likes the sound of me getting to know her better or the sound of me calling her my girlfriend. I think, I hope, it’s both.
“Tell us what you’re feeling, Simone.”
Dr. Packer’s calm tone doesn’t soothe the turbulence in my daughter’s eyes. It’s Monday, and Simone barely spoke to me yesterday when I returned from the elevator. She gave me the cold shoulder on the ride to Barclays, where Kenya’s team played. She was borderline rude when she met Jade, giving us all sullen silences and rolling eyes. If there’s such a thing as the terrible teens, we’re smack dab in the middle of it.
With her lips parted to speak, Simone flicks an uncertain look between Bridget and me, only to clamp her mouth into a stubborn line and trace the hole at the knee of her jeans with one slim finger.
“You can tell us, Simone,” Dr. Packer prods gently. “Your parents won’t get upset, and we need to all be honest if we want to make this work.”
“Daddy wasn’t honest,” she says, not looking at me.
“Simone, I didn’t mean for you to find out about Lotus that way,” I say. “But I didn’t lie to you.”
Accusation flares in the eyes Simone finally turns on me. “You said she was a friend when we saw her at the restaurant.”
“She was a friend then,” I return evenly. “We decided we . . . liked each other more not long after that. I planned to tell you about her in our session today.”
I hope the look I flash to Bridget, seated on the other side of Simone, isn’t as irritated as I feel.
“But when your mom brought you to the apartment yesterday,” I say, “it took me by surprise. I thought I’d have time to tell you. I promise I had every intention of discussing it.”
“It’s true, Simone,” Dr. Packer confirms. “It was on today’s agenda.”
“So you knew, Mommy?” Simone demands.
“Yes.” Bridget clears her throat. “I didn’t mention it because we were planning to tell you today.”
But you showing up unannounced ruined that plan, huh, Bridge?
God, I wish I could say it out loud, but I bite back the comment.
“With that said,” Dr. Packer says, “can you tell us how your father’s new relationship makes you feel?”
Simone swallows and rapidly blinks long lashes. “Sad.”
I open my mouth, ready to dive in, not even sure what I’ll say, but needing to make her feel better. Dr. Packer catches my eyes, offering a subtle shake of her head.
“Why sad?” she probes.
“Everything keeps changing,” Simone whispers, a frown gathering over her troubled eyes. “And I just want it to be how it used to be when my mom and dad were together.”
When I meet Bridget’s eyes, they hold the hint of the smugness I expect, but there’s also helplessness. Hurt. Guilt. I want to scream “You did this!” But the more distance I have between our marriage and our current situation, the more I gain perspective. I know Bridget isn’t to blame for everything. I wasn’t the best husband. Hell, on the road three quarters of every year, I wasn’t always the best father. I share that guilt in Bridget’s eyes.
“Marriages don’t always last,” Dr. Packer says. “But family does.”
Simone’s bottom lip quivers. “How long was Grandpa married to Grandma, Daddy?”
The question is a foul ball, errant, flying over the fence and landing in the middle of the conversation. All the emotions I’ve carefully suppressed bob to the surface at the mention of my father. I look to Dr. Packer for guidance and
her quick nod encourages me to answer.
“Uh, they were married forty years,” I reply.
“Did you think you’d be married to Mommy that long?” Simone asks, her eyes intense, bright, scouring my face like a searchlight.
“I thought I’d be married to your mom the rest of my life, Moni.” I slant a look at Bridget’s increasingly strained expression. “I took my wedding vows very seriously.”
“So did I,” Bridget says, her words curt. “Just because I made a mistake doesn’t mean I didn’t value our vows.”
I don’t answer because this isn’t the time to rehash my past with Bridget, but to acclimate Simone to my future with Lotus.
“You were gone so much,” Bridget mutters.
God, if that woman burps she finds a way to blame me for it.
“That still doesn’t excuse . . .” I smother the words and my anger before continuing. “It’s behind us now. We both made mistakes and it’s time we moved on.”
“Are you gonna leave me if I make a mistake, too?” Simone twists her fingers into an anxious knot in her lap.
“Never.” I reach over and gently tilt her face until she looks at me. “I won’t ever leave you, Moni.”
“What’s the difference?” she whispers, glaring. The daggers in her eyes stab my heart, and I struggle to keep my voice even while I’m bleeding inside.
“I can’t undo my blood in your veins,” I tell her. “You’re part of me and nothing can make me not your father.”
“But the divorce made Mommy not your wife,” she says, her eyes shiny and the same exact shade of begging blue as her mother’s. “You can’t forgive her?”
I look past Simone to catch Bridget’s alert stare, and then to Dr. Packer.
“Tell her, Kenan,” Dr. Packer says.
“I don’t know, honey,” I reply honestly, shrugging. “I’m sure I’ll forgive her one day, but we won’t ever be married again. It’s not going to happen.”
“Because of her,” Simone says, her voice carrying a bitter edge. “You’re so busy with Lotus that—”
“Simone, don’t,” I warn, as close to sharp as I’ll be, keeping my voice gentle, but not having it. “You know your mother and I were apart long before I met Lotus.”