And even if they didn’t… we’d still be together, so really, there’s no use in worrying over something that’s not going to change.
I want my parents’ approval, but I don’tneedit.
What I need is for them to trust that I’m making the right decision for my life and that I’m with someone who respects me and is good to me.
I want them to love the man I’m choosing, but if they don’t, then that’s something they’re going to have to work through.
He finally sighs. “Just your father meeting the man who’s dating his much, much younger daughter. Who probably has a real solid idea that I deflowered her before marriage.”
Smirking, I slowly trail my finger down the center of his chest and over the rows and rows of hard, chiseled muscles on his stomach. I feel them twitch beneath my touch, and that smirk spreads. “Should we work on more deflowering? Would that help you relax some?” I slide my hand lower and cup his dick over his pants. “Mmm. Maybe I should get on my knees and suck all of your worries out.”
Wilder groans. “Jesus. I’m going to fucking hell. Straight down to the bottom.”
“Nah,” I murmur, raking my teeth over my bottom lip. “Daddy will pray for you. Perks of dating the pastor’s daughter.”
When Mama and Daddy arrive later in the day, Wilder’s still anxious and tense. Even after trying to relax him, which turned into an hour-long sex marathon all over every surface in my apartment.
I think it might have actually made it worse?
I’m pretty sure he’s currently hoping my father doesn’t somehow realize that he had me bent over the side of my couch just a couple of hours ago with how hard he’s staring at it.
My father is a pastor, not a mind reader.
Plus, I’d say that it’s going great if you ask me.
“Wilder,” my father says, offering him a small smile that makes me hopeful. “Have you decided what you’re going to do next?”
I slide my hand over his thigh beneath the table and squeeze gently, trying to reassure him.
Even though my parents are… hesitant and still wary about our relationship, they’ll never be rude.
That’s just not how they are. But I think that Wilder thought tonight was going to be an inquisition.
Which, thankfully, is not the case. My parents have asked him things; of course, they want to get to know the man I’m dating, but it hasn’t felt like they have us under a microscope.
Relief floods my chest.
Wilder’s Adam’s apple moves as he swallows. “I’m currently deciding on that. I’ve been looking into possibly starting a nonprofit for children who are in foster care.” He clears histhroat, and his gaze travels to mine. I give him a smile and a slight nod, feeling pride swell beneath my rib cage. “It’s very personal to me. I spent my childhood in a group home, and I think this is where I’m being drawn to.”
I thought I couldn’t love him any more than I do.
But then one night, while we were lying in the bathtub and I was reading out loud to him like he asks some nights, notalwaysinvolving spicy tabs, he shared that he had this idea in the back of his mind.
He didn’t know where to start, or if it would even be plausible, but he wanted to help kids like him. The ones who are in a broken system, without love and support and resources the majority of the time. He told me all about the little girl he met that day at the arena.
Kori.
And how he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about her, about what he could do with what he has to help more kids like her. Like him.
He’s got the money, and he’s got the time. Wilder just has to be brave enough to jump.
We talked about how he could tie hockey into it too, his other passion, and we stayed in the bath so long that night that I was shivering, talking about his plans and his dreams.
I fell in love with him a little more that night. And every night since.
“Oh, Wilder, that’s wonderful,” my mother chimes in. The smile on her face is warm and genuine, and it makes me want to cry.
Being able to sit here with Wilder and my parents, and it doesn’t feel strained or uneasy… It means more to me than I realized it could.
