And there go my legs.
I reach behind me, gripping the counter like it’s the only thing keeping me upright, while my brain scrambles to catch up and make sense of everything happening around it.
Ana and Emilee—best friends. Have been for years. They attend the same prestigious boarding school here in New York City, the kind full of trust funds and absent parents. Most of the students live far away from home. Most of the families are constantly traveling.
Like me.
Which might explain why I haven’t met many of the other parents.
Obviously.
Ana breaks the silence.
“Hi, Mr. J.”
Her voice is soft, sweet—even shy. But that smirk? That sayseverything.
Emilee’s practically lived at Elijah’s place during school breaks.
And Ana… Ana has been inmyhome just as often.
She knows me.
She fuckingknowsme.
Elijah glances between us, clearly sensing something is off. His brow creases as his hand spears through his still-damp hair. He clears his throat and rests his knuckles against his chin.
“Do you know each other?”
His gaze flicks from me to his daughter, clearly expecting an explanation—though it’s painfully obvious I’m not capable of giving one. My tongue might as well be made of stone.
Thankfully, Ana doesn’t flinch.
“He’s Emilee’s dad,” she says flippantly, like it’s no big deal. Like she didn’t just throw a live grenade into the room.
“Dios mío,” Elijah mutters, shoving a hand through his hair again. His eyes flick to me—still paralyzed by pure, undiluted shock.
Well. We can officially add this to my list of fucking firsts: Half naked, standing in their kitchen, just caught—by my daughter’s best friend—sucking facewith herdad!
Perfect. Just fucking perfect.
“Elijah—”
“Alex,” he says gently, voice careful, like he’s watching me come undone for the second time in under an hour.
And as if this moment couldn’t possibly get worse, Ana pipes up, a twinkle in her eye, like this is cute or funny or something other than the complete social implosion it is.
“It’s about time, Dad. I’m really happy for you,” she says sweetly. “But next time you two decide to get hot and heavy in our house, could youpleasekeep it in your bedroom? I mean, I don’t blame you—Mr. J is totally?—”
“Stephania!” Elijah snaps, cutting her off with sharp precision.
He throws an arm around her shoulders, gently but firmly steering her away—before she can witness the finale of my imminent meltdown.
He leads her down the hallway to her bedroom—which, mortifyingly, I now realize is justone fucking dooraway from his.
Fan-freaking-tastic.
4
