Roman
Page 45
Because Georgia is fruity at the best of times and unpredictable at the worst, I have no clue how she’ll respond. So I’m not exactly surprised when she bypasses the stool I’d offered her and instead walks right into my personal space until we are mere inches from each other. I top her by almost a foot, so I look down as she looks up, and her brown eyes are dark but glittering with something I can’t quite put my finger on, but it makes my blood start to race.
“You need to kiss me right now,” she demands, although it’s done sweetly, and with her southern twang that makes it adorable.
“Really?” I ask as I bring my hands to her shoulders.
“Yes,” she says with a nod. “Now would be a good time.”
And I couldn’t agree with her more. It’s time. It’s way past time, as a matter of fact.
I bend my head down as Georgia raises to her tiptoes, and I brush my lips lightly against hers. Her arms go around my neck, her fingers into my hair, and she presses her mouth insistently against mine. The minute her tongue touches the tip of mine, my head actually swims from the overload of feelings rushing through me. Lust, wonder, fear.
Yes, fear, because it’s been awhile since I’ve done this.
I haven’t been a celibate man all these years since my wife died, but I haven’t exactly been active the last few years, preferring to immerse myself in work.
But this, right here? It’s amazing and thrilling and I suddenly want more. I want to experience everything with Georgia, and if the tightening in my pants is any indication, there’s quite a bit of Georgia I want.
My hands drop from her shoulders, slip around her waist, and I pull her in tight to me. Georgia lets out a tiny moan when her belly presses against my erection, and for a brief moment, I’m embarrassed.
But the embarrassment passes, because Georgia makes a moaning sound of need, then presses in tighter against me and suddenly, now all I can think about is getting our clothes off and taking her to bed.
“Well, this is an awkward scene to walk into,” I hear from behind Georgia, and I immediately recognize my daughter’s voice.
I immediately release Georgia, thankful that the kitchen island stands between Gray and me and she can’t see the embarrassing problem in my pants at this moment.
Georgia turns as she carefully runs a hand around the edges of her lips, perhaps in a subconscious move to check for smeared lipstick, but it hasn’t smeared in the slightest.
And there Gray stands in my kitchen, twirling her keys on one of her fingers with a mischievous look on her face. “Guess I should have knocked, huh?”
I give her an admonishing look, because Gray never has to knock on my door. Besides that, she has a key.
“Gray,” I say as my hand goes to Georgia’s lower back. “This is Georgia Mack. My date for the night.”
“Date? Is that what they call making out in the kitchen?” Gray asks smugly, her eyebrow cocked at me before turning her attention to Georgia. She nods her head and beams a smile. “It’s lovely to meet you, Georgia. I’ve heard a lot about you from Dad and Lexi.”
“It’s great to meet you too,” Georgia says sweetly.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, curious about why she’s dropped by. Gray’s so busy these days she hardly ever comes over.
Reaching into her purse, she pulls out an envelope and steps up to the island to hand it across to me. “You left early today and I went into your office to leave you a note for tomorrow, since I’m going to be gone, and I saw your mail there. This was lying on top and I figured you’d want it.”
I take the envelope from her and my eyes immediately focus on the logo on the return address. “The DNA results,” I murmur.
“Open it, Dad,” Gray says softly. “Let’s make this reality.”
“You know,” Georgia pipes in, sounding extremely nervous. “This is a private moment. I actually should go, give you two time to process whatever’s in that envelope.”
“Nonsense,” I say without looking at Georgia, my fingers automatically tearing it open. “You’re Lexi’s closest friend and like a mother to her. I know she’d want you here, and so do I.”
The minute those words are out, I realize they’re true. Whatever has been going on between Georgia and me, when you move past all of the teasing, baiting, and downright flirty innuendo that goes on, I’ve developed some deep feelings for her.
“Okay,” she says with a smile. “I’ll stay then.”
I don’t look back at her as my heart is beating so hard I’m afraid I might stroke out. I pull out the letter and realize my hands are shaking as I open it.
I’m immediately assaulted by columns and numbers on the page, some circled in different colors. Words jump out at me like child and alleged father and allele. My eyes scan furiously down the page until I get to the word that matters the most.
Probability.
And next to it: 99.9 percent.
“She’s mine,” I whisper, my throat almost completely clogged by emotion. I mean…I knew it deep in my gut she was my daughter, but seeing it proven this way is like finding the joy of it—the absolute miracle—all over again. Looking back up at Gray, I see her eyes are moist and I cough before saying, “She’s ours.”
Then Gray is around the counter and in my arms, with her face buried into my shoulder as we hug and laugh, and fuck it, I go ahead and cry too. I feel Georgia’s hand press into my lower back, and I risk a glance at her. I’m touched to see tears streaming down her face as well.
Finally, Gray pulls away and wipes at the tears. She laughs as she looks at me with a watery smile and says, almost in wonder, “I have a sister.”
“And I have another daughter,” I say, beyond thrilled, and happy and fulfilled. But then to lighten the mood I add, “I’m too old for this shit.”
“You are not too old for this shit,” Gray chastises as she punches me lightly on my shoulder.
“I feel it,” I grumble, tapping my fist against my chest. “I almost had a heart attack reading that.”
Gray snorts. “You’re the youngest sixty-year-old I know.”
“I’m sixty-one,” I point out.
“Bruce Willis is almost sixty-one and he’s out filming action movies and dating hot young women, Brian,” Georgia offers. “I think he should be the standard. There are many, many hot, vibrant men out there in their sixties.”
“You need to kiss me right now,” she demands, although it’s done sweetly, and with her southern twang that makes it adorable.
“Really?” I ask as I bring my hands to her shoulders.
“Yes,” she says with a nod. “Now would be a good time.”
And I couldn’t agree with her more. It’s time. It’s way past time, as a matter of fact.
I bend my head down as Georgia raises to her tiptoes, and I brush my lips lightly against hers. Her arms go around my neck, her fingers into my hair, and she presses her mouth insistently against mine. The minute her tongue touches the tip of mine, my head actually swims from the overload of feelings rushing through me. Lust, wonder, fear.
Yes, fear, because it’s been awhile since I’ve done this.
I haven’t been a celibate man all these years since my wife died, but I haven’t exactly been active the last few years, preferring to immerse myself in work.
But this, right here? It’s amazing and thrilling and I suddenly want more. I want to experience everything with Georgia, and if the tightening in my pants is any indication, there’s quite a bit of Georgia I want.
My hands drop from her shoulders, slip around her waist, and I pull her in tight to me. Georgia lets out a tiny moan when her belly presses against my erection, and for a brief moment, I’m embarrassed.
But the embarrassment passes, because Georgia makes a moaning sound of need, then presses in tighter against me and suddenly, now all I can think about is getting our clothes off and taking her to bed.
“Well, this is an awkward scene to walk into,” I hear from behind Georgia, and I immediately recognize my daughter’s voice.
I immediately release Georgia, thankful that the kitchen island stands between Gray and me and she can’t see the embarrassing problem in my pants at this moment.
Georgia turns as she carefully runs a hand around the edges of her lips, perhaps in a subconscious move to check for smeared lipstick, but it hasn’t smeared in the slightest.
And there Gray stands in my kitchen, twirling her keys on one of her fingers with a mischievous look on her face. “Guess I should have knocked, huh?”
I give her an admonishing look, because Gray never has to knock on my door. Besides that, she has a key.
“Gray,” I say as my hand goes to Georgia’s lower back. “This is Georgia Mack. My date for the night.”
“Date? Is that what they call making out in the kitchen?” Gray asks smugly, her eyebrow cocked at me before turning her attention to Georgia. She nods her head and beams a smile. “It’s lovely to meet you, Georgia. I’ve heard a lot about you from Dad and Lexi.”
“It’s great to meet you too,” Georgia says sweetly.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, curious about why she’s dropped by. Gray’s so busy these days she hardly ever comes over.
Reaching into her purse, she pulls out an envelope and steps up to the island to hand it across to me. “You left early today and I went into your office to leave you a note for tomorrow, since I’m going to be gone, and I saw your mail there. This was lying on top and I figured you’d want it.”
I take the envelope from her and my eyes immediately focus on the logo on the return address. “The DNA results,” I murmur.
“Open it, Dad,” Gray says softly. “Let’s make this reality.”
“You know,” Georgia pipes in, sounding extremely nervous. “This is a private moment. I actually should go, give you two time to process whatever’s in that envelope.”
“Nonsense,” I say without looking at Georgia, my fingers automatically tearing it open. “You’re Lexi’s closest friend and like a mother to her. I know she’d want you here, and so do I.”
The minute those words are out, I realize they’re true. Whatever has been going on between Georgia and me, when you move past all of the teasing, baiting, and downright flirty innuendo that goes on, I’ve developed some deep feelings for her.
“Okay,” she says with a smile. “I’ll stay then.”
I don’t look back at her as my heart is beating so hard I’m afraid I might stroke out. I pull out the letter and realize my hands are shaking as I open it.
I’m immediately assaulted by columns and numbers on the page, some circled in different colors. Words jump out at me like child and alleged father and allele. My eyes scan furiously down the page until I get to the word that matters the most.
Probability.
And next to it: 99.9 percent.
“She’s mine,” I whisper, my throat almost completely clogged by emotion. I mean…I knew it deep in my gut she was my daughter, but seeing it proven this way is like finding the joy of it—the absolute miracle—all over again. Looking back up at Gray, I see her eyes are moist and I cough before saying, “She’s ours.”
Then Gray is around the counter and in my arms, with her face buried into my shoulder as we hug and laugh, and fuck it, I go ahead and cry too. I feel Georgia’s hand press into my lower back, and I risk a glance at her. I’m touched to see tears streaming down her face as well.
Finally, Gray pulls away and wipes at the tears. She laughs as she looks at me with a watery smile and says, almost in wonder, “I have a sister.”
“And I have another daughter,” I say, beyond thrilled, and happy and fulfilled. But then to lighten the mood I add, “I’m too old for this shit.”
“You are not too old for this shit,” Gray chastises as she punches me lightly on my shoulder.
“I feel it,” I grumble, tapping my fist against my chest. “I almost had a heart attack reading that.”
Gray snorts. “You’re the youngest sixty-year-old I know.”
“I’m sixty-one,” I point out.
“Bruce Willis is almost sixty-one and he’s out filming action movies and dating hot young women, Brian,” Georgia offers. “I think he should be the standard. There are many, many hot, vibrant men out there in their sixties.”
