I’m overthinking. I do that thing that drives Dom crazy. I try to control the future by fixing problems that don’t exist.It makes sense in my head, but he says I’m just creating extra stress for myself.
But what if Isla’s pregnant? Would she move to New York? We would need a bigger apartment. Would Isla sleep in our bed? Would she want her own?
What if she doesn’t want the baby? She said she did in the video but that could have been a heat of the moment lapse of judgment. A kink that got her hot.
Dom’s right. I am overthinking. We need to get through the next few days with her. We’ll deal with the rest later.
Macie and Jacob are still in the sitting room when I return. Dad seems to be missing, but I take a moment to examine my childhood home, the stark contrast to how Mom had everything before the divorce.
Macie has a very whimsical taste. While Mom liked order and tidy. Macie has a love for clutter and shiny. Christmas is particularly chaotic when her millions of glass figurines are clustered together with lights and angel ornaments. The hand-blown pieces terrify me. They remind me of soap bubbles drifting lazily in a breeze right before popping. Just being in the same room increases my anxiety.
“Nicky!” Macie pats the cushion next to her and I have to keep my already foul temper in check because logically, this whole thing is her fault.
She said yes when Dad asked her out.
She said yes when he asked her to marry him.
She brought Isla into my life.
It doesn’t matter that my life was fine the first eleven years. I don’t care that Isla is to blame for becoming this beautiful, kind, funny and brilliant woman seemingly overnight. Macie put her in my path and now I don’t know what to do.
I guess, at the moment, I cross the room and sit.
Macie promptly puts a hand on my knee.
“I was just telling Jacob how happy I am to have you and Dominic here this Christmas. I feel like we rarely see you anymore.”
I’ve explained to her that I have a Mom I alternate holidays with. Not to mention Dom has his family. It’s true we can go a couple of years at a time not seeing people just to keep things fair. But she never understands.
“We do our best,” I offer instead.
She purses her lips into a pout. “But this is your home.”
Childhood home, maybe. But Dom and I have our apartment in New York.
Again, no use telling her.
“We still come as often as we can.”
She pats my knee but faces Jacob. “Maybe we can extend the guesthouse and build a small—”
A figure in the doorway interrupts her wild imagination and all heads turn as Isla slips over the threshold. And both my heart and dick immediately spring to life. The latter pushes against the zipper teeth. The pang in my ass increases as I shift and drive it deeper.
She’s clad in a pale, purple tank that clings to her generous breasts, emphasizing the hard halos of her nipples. There’s a sliver of skin between the hem and the waistline of her white, plaited skirt. No shoes. Her hair is still damp like in the video, and I can’t stop remembering the strands clinging to her soft skin as she rode my boyfriend’s face.
“Isla! Where have you been?”
Eyes the softest honey gold shift anxiously from her mom to me, then back.
“I just—”
In true Macie fashion, she cuts in. “Come join us. We were just discussing Nicky moving back to Piper Falls.”
Two things happen simultaneously.
One, Macie motions for Isla to sit in the only available spot that isn’t Dad’s armchair... directly next to me. Two, her insane statement rings through the room with such clarity I forget the first.
“Moving back?”
