Of course she did.
“How convenient,” I snort, rolling my eyes and trailing behind him as he moves up the black spiral staircase on the right side of the atrium. Not only has my mother completely fucked me over by not telling me about any of this, but now I’m stuck with my now ex-stepdad for the night.
Great, just great.
What the fuck am I doing?
Robyn is not my problem.
The fact she’s here serves nothing more to me than an inconvenience. Of course Jennifer forgot to cancel on her daughter, or even inform me of her arrival before she fucked off somewhere for a week. Knowing her, she’ll be back soon to either beg for my forgiveness—which she will never get—or deal with the inevitability of our divorce.
Typical Jennifer.
I don’t want this girl here; she’s got nothing to do with me other than being the child I gained when I married her mother. And if I can count on one hand the number of times we’ve been in a room together for longer than ten minutes, twice is cutting it fine.
Except the girl who turned up at my house isn’t the same eighteen-year-old girl I remember from seven years ago. Christ, she isn’t even the stepdaughter I recognise from the last time I saw her.
Was that two, or three years ago?
When I opened the door to see her standing there, luggage in hand and a small, albeit beautiful smile on her face, I had no idea who she was. It took me a few seconds to realise who was standing at my door, and believe me when I say I was taken aback by the stark difference in her when I finally realised it was Robyn.
My eyes shamefully roamed her body from head to toe as though it was impossible for me to look away from the striking woman standing before me. Long, red hair cascading down her back and shoulders like a waterfall of fire, perfectly styled in silky loose curls to give that freshly fucked look.
Freshly fucked, Jesus.
What is wrong with me right now?
Her features had changed somewhat since the last time I saw her too; her heart-shaped face was more filled out in all the places it should be, and a lot less emaciated than before. Naturally plump, rosy lips that curved up slightly as she watched me struggle to place who she was.
When I eventually realised who it was standing in front of me, Robyn walked into my house as though she owned the place, gliding past me seductively and smelling of sweet jasmine and honey. For some unknown reason I had to stifle the groan my body wanted to make, all because of how incredible she smelt.
Even when we were talking, I couldn’t focus properly. All I could do was stare at her intoxicating blue eyes, so deep they mimicked the shade of cobalt. Her lengthy black eyelashes circled her round, doe-shaped eyes—so long they curved up towards her thick, impeccably shaped eyebrows when she blinked.
The way she practically floated through the door and into the foyer, swaying her hips as though she were a runway model couldn’t stop me from gawking at her like a piece of meat. Because of course I involuntarily checked out the twenty-five-year-old as she walked past me.
Twenty-five, Jack, exactly.
I was in awe of a woman for the first time in averylong time. Her light blue skinny jeans and white fitted T-shirt melted into the most incredible shape against her voluptuous curves with every move she made.
I need to relax. She’s my stepdaughter.
For the foreseeable future, anyway.
Tattoos covered both her forearms in intricate, yet extremely feminine designs of black and grey flowers with tiny pops of colour here and there. She’s nothing like the gaunt teenage girl I remember at eighteen—all due to her mother’s weight and body shaming. Again, something I hated her doing when I was around, which wasn’t often. She’s taller—somewhere around five-nine, five-ten—heathier, and overall just… happier looking.
Why do I even care if she’s happy?
She’s not your problem, Jack, you can change your mind now and send her on her way.
But I don’t. Of course I don’t. Why? I hear you ask, because I’m a glutton for punishment.
Knowing that the moment her mother finds out Robyn stayed the night, remembering she got rid of her only daughter’s bedroom to get a fucking gym she never used, will drive her insane with thoughts of what happened between us. Questioning whether I fucked her daughter into the mattress of our marital bed, or whethershefuckedme. Losing her mind over it and rushing back home only to find out nothing happened.
Because nothing is going to happen.
She’s staying one night and then I’m shipping her off to be someone else’s problem.
She can fly all the way back home to her father in London for all I care.
