CHAPTER 47
ELIJAH
Aweekend away is what we both needed. Time to reconnect without worrying about the rest of the world. I admit, it’s been a long time since I felt this free and relaxed. But then, Pen has that effect on me. Even when we were working together on projects, she had her lists but took life in her stride.
I look down at the woman sleeping, wrapped in my arms. I close my eyes and wonder how I’m going to broach the subject of Pen and me with Lottie? She’s due home tomorrow. Pen says she’s happy to continue in secret, but I realise I’m not. I have too much respect for her. I won’t treat her like my dirty little secret.
“Dad…I’m home.”
A voice breaks through the early morning silence.
My bedroom door hits the wall with a bang, pulling Pen out of my arms and her deep slumber.
“Oh. My. God. What the…”
Lottie’s shrieks fill the room as Pen sits bolt upright, the sheet dropping from her torso, exposing her naked breasts to the room.
I sit up in a semi-daze as Pen clocks my cheek with her elbow as she scrambles to cover herself.
“Oh. My. God.” Lottie shrieks again as Pen finally draws the sheet up and around herself. “Aunty Pen?”
The sound of horror in my daughter’s voice brings me upright, and I watch on as Pen and my daughter stare at each other across the room.
“Lottie?” I say, pinching the bridge of my nose to stem the headache I know is going to hit. “What are you doing here, darling? You aren’t supposed to be home until tomorrow.”
“Clearly,” she says, raising her eyebrows and placing her hands on her hips. “I can see youweren’texpecting me.”
Pen sits next to me, clutching the duvet to her chest.
“Hey, Lottie,” she says, her voice husky from sleep.
“Don’t hey Lottie, me, Aunty Pen,” my daughter says.
Her fourteen-year-old sass coming out.
“I will not ask what you’re doing in my dad’s bed…naked. Ew!” She shakes her head and pulls a face. “Aunty Pen? Dad, really.”
Her eyes flick between us, and I can see the pain in her gaze.
“I’m going to put the kettle on. Maybe you two can put some clothes on,” she says, turning on her heel.
I watch my daughter flounce out of the room.
I run a hand down my face.
Pen drops her head to her bent knees and groans.
“She hates me,” she says, hiding her face.
“She doesn’t. Lottie loves you like a mother. You’re her favourite person. It will probably be me she can’t forgive.”
“I may have been—past tense. That was before she thought about me having sex with her dad.”
Pen turns her head and looks at me, her cheek now resting on her knees.
It’s my turn to groan. Even I know no teenager wants to think about their parentdoing that.
“I better go. Leave you to talk to her.”
