Reallygood.
Dressed in a white button-up that was tucked into tailored slacks, a belt wrapped around his waist with a gold buckle. His matching gold Rolex was the only accessory he wore, yet it made him look more refined than if he’d simply gone without it. His hair was still slicked back from earlier, though a few pieces had come down to curl against his forehead to half frame his face.
Me?
I was in something simple. A dark-colored, cotton quarter-sleeve shirt and dark blue jeans that still had the slight folded crease marks running along my thighs from the department store I’d picked them up from two hours prior.
My stomach churned. Nerves spiking instantly.
This wasn’t a date. Just a casual dinner between friends. Avery was always one to dress up. He took pride in his appearance and tonight was no different. Getting all up in my head about something so simple was just going to make this awkward.
I blew out a slow breath, forcing a smile onto my face. “Cool.”
He nodded at that and then turned back to face forward, grabbing the gearshift and maneuvering the car back out onto the road.
For the most part, the trip was silent, save only for the soft music playing on the radio that was barely above a whisper. My fingers twitched in my lap from the effort of forcing myself not to reach over and crank it, to give myself something to focus on other than the sound of Avery’s soft breathing.
I rolled my tongue around the roof of my mouth, my saliva thick and hard to swallow while the memories of wrapping my lips around Avery’s cock equally teased and tortured me. I wanted to lick up the length of him again and bury him deep down into my throat until my nose was pressed against his body.
The way he’d stretched my throat, I still felt the slight tingles waking up this morning.
Fuck, and the way he came?—
“So, my meeting with my dad’s widow went to shit.”
His words instantly snapped me out of my thoughts. Shit, I forgot he’d gone to that after visiting me. “Wait, did you just say ‘widow’?”
He nodded. “She claimed to have a valid marriage license a week ago. My lawyer sent it in and it was found to be authentic. So she’s at least entitled to some of the estate.”
“Jesus, I’m sorry, Avery.” What a way to find out your dad had secretly married someone behind your back. “Tell me she was his age at least?”
“Nope. Around ours, actually.”
That was even worse, though it wasn’t that much of a surprise. As superficial as he was materialistic, Kurt McAllister dating a woman half his age—or rather marrying her—was definitely something that I wouldn’t put past him. He’d been in tabloids before for partying it up with young models on his yacht countless times when he was still alive.
Though, I was surprised he actually went through with marrying someone. He used to brag about being a perpetual bachelor on the rare occasions he was back in Ellington Heights pretending to be a good father.
Blowing out another breath, I said, “That’s ridiculous. I hope she’s only interested in the money, then?”
Avery was silent for a long beat, his eyes focused on the stoplight when we came to a crawl and paused. The redreflection of it cast an eerily glow on his skin, his eyes carrying a slight sheen to them.
“She’s pregnant. Claims it’s his,” was what he finally murmured just as the light turned green.
I was stunned.
Avery flicked at the turn signal, merging into the lane next to us. “I told her that she needs to get a paternity test or else I’m not cooperating and she can kiss my ass. The problem is that if she really is pregnant with his child, she has legitimate claims to everything. Or, the child does. The will stated ‘any natural born children.’”
“Fuck,” I mumbled, letting my body sink back into my seat.
What a complicated mess. As was Kurt McAllister’s entire life. Him fucking things up for Avery from beyond the grave unfortunately tracked just as much as the other ridiculous stuff he’d forced his son to put up with his entire life on this Earth.
To think that Avery might have a sibling soon...
“Did you verify if she was actually pregnant? She could be faking it,” I suggested.
He let out a strained laugh. “Oh, she was very obviously pregnant during the meeting. Had documentation proving it, too, that she handed over. Unless the paternity test comes back false, I’m going to have to re-negotiate the entire will with her. At the very least, half of everything will be put into a trust until the kid’s old enough to access it.”
What a mess.
