The future governor of the great state of Florida.
AndImarried her.
“Daddy,” she says, her voice low and slow. “The trust is safe. Everything’s owned by that. We’re going to do a postnup after we pass the bar—”
“You didn’t even sign afucking prenup?”
But he doesn’t rattle her in the slightest. She’s apparently used to this side of Benchley Evans. “—ifwe feel we need it. I love Carter, and he loves me. I actually proposed tohim. We’re all registered as Independents now, we’re going to work on running for lower offices first, then we’re going to get Owen elected governor with me as his lieutenant.”
“Over myfucking dead body!”
“That can be arranged, Daddy!” she roars back.
He flinches, as does Michelle.
Fair enough, because so do I, and I reach out to Owen to steady him, too.
I’ve never seen this side of Susa.Fuck, I didn’t know shehadthis side. Apparently, neither did her parents.
I also realize I’m now uncomfortably erect, and don’t dare reach down and adjust where my cock’s painfully wedged against my fly at an angle that’s pinching me.
Thank god I’m wearing jeans and not slacks.
Susa steps forward and jabs a finger at her father. “All my life, you raised me to be independent, to fearlessly go for what I wanted without apologies, and to find what makes me happy. Well, what I want is Carter, and to help Owen get elected, and get myself elected.That’swhat makes me happy.
“Now, I’m sorry I’m disappointing you and not staying with the GOP, but this isn’t a shocker to you, admit it. I’ve told you plenty of times I’m not happy with them holding on to platform planks that try to limit women’s healthcare rights and the right to choose. Not to mention the disturbing number of racists who seem to be congregating among their ranks.YourGOP is stuck in the Dark Ages, Daddy, regardless ofyourpersonal beliefs. It was nevermyGOP. And you know I do not agree with the Democrats on more than a few of their fiscal and foreign policies.
“Sohere’sthe bottom line, Daddy—dealwith it. I’mnotdivorcing him, I’mnotgetting an annulment. I’m nineteen, and you and Momma got married when you were both eighteen, and here you still are.”
“We werebotheighteen,” he counters, “and neither of us had a pot to piss in. How do you know he’s not going to divorce you or rob you blind?”
“Because he wanted a prenup to protect me,” she lies, “and I said no. Everything we bring to this marriage is exempt from a divorce. I already checked.” That last part is true, though.
I guess it shouldn’t surprise me that she can so easily lie to her father, but it is a vital skill for a politician.
Maybe I misjudged my girl, underestimated her.
“Sir,” I say, taking over as I reach out and touch Susa’s shoulder, “I’m sorry this is such a shock, and happened so quickly. I take responsibility for that.”
“Damn fuckingrightyou will!” he roars.
“Daddy.” Susa’s voice bears a dangerous edge that sounds like she’s taken a page straight from Sarge’s playbook. “Settle the fuck down,rightnow, or we’re leaving.”
Michelle gasps. “Don’t you talk to your father like that!”
“Oh, I’m going to talk to the Senator like that,” Susa says, meeting her father’s glare head-on and without cringing. “If I was your son and came home with a wife, would you be acting like this?”
“If she was, what, ten years older than him and had no prenup? Probably, yeah.”
“Then I guess if you wanted to make all my decisions for me, you shouldn’t have raised me to be self-sufficient and given me the means with which to do it.”
“So how much have you blown through of your trust, huh? Don’t you come running to me when you run out of fucking money!”
She angrily yanks her phone out of her back pocket, opens an app, swipes to something, and jams it in his face. “You see that, Daddy? You see that fucking bank balance? What does it fucking say, hmm?”
His eyes widen. “What thehell?”
“What?” Michelle asks, stepping in to look.
