Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 41577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 208(@200wpm)___ 166(@250wpm)___ 139(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 208(@200wpm)___ 166(@250wpm)___ 139(@300wpm)
I sat down on the bed and scanned the room, eyeing the potted ferns on the windowsill, the squat ficus beside the bed. Linens in turquoise and violet; he’d remembered the color palette in my bedroom at the old house. It made me smile. I stood as he turned to go.
“Dad?”
He paused in the doorway.
“Thanks for lunch,” I said.
“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”
The epithet wrapped itself around my chest like ribbon. I took a tentative step toward him and opened my hands. “Can I have a hug?”
His eyes crinkled at the corners. “Of course.”
He wrapped his arms around me, cupping the back of my head with his palm. I pressed my nose to his throat. He smelled good, like pine and clove and peppermint, just like I remembered.
“I’ve missed you, too,” he said into my hair.
I couldn’t help chuckling. I angled my mouth toward his cheek, intending to give him a quick peck. He must’ve had the same idea, because when I turned my face, our lips met.
His stubble tickled my chin. I closed my eyes and let my fingers curl around his shirt collar. Time held its breath. It was impossible to tell who’d initiated the kiss, but neither of us moved to end it.
The heat from his hand seeped into my scalp as his breath streamed down from his nose. Every inch of my skin tingled as tension gathered in my stomach, sliding low, then lower…
A voice inside my head shouted, Stop. This was a misfire, bad wiring, mistaken identity, not desire. My thoughts ran a race against my pulse, trying to make sense of my misplaced pleasure.
I drew back. His eyes snapped open, taking in my burning cheeks and confused expression. My chest rose and fell. Lots of parents kiss their children on the lips, I told myself. It wasn’t inherently sexual. So, then why was my body reacting as if I’d just kissed a lover?
Mortified, I let my feet carry me back to the bed where I forced my hands to start unpacking.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t know how… It was an accident.” When I could no longer stand the heat of his stare on my back, I spun to face him. “Would you please say some—”
He’d already left the room.
Head spinning, I sat on the bed and touched my fingers to my lips. It was only a kiss, and an accidental one at that. Embarrassing, sure, but it could’ve happened with anyone.
I needed to believe that. There was no alternative.
The intercom buzzed in the living room. Footsteps thudded down the stairs. There came another buzz, then the squeal and bang of the door as it opened and closed. Then, silence, loud and accusatory.
I busied myself with putting away my toiletries and clothes before venturing out to explore the rest of the apartment. Downstairs, the kitchen was fully stocked with food and flavored seltzer, all unopened. I used to drink lemon and lime seltzer as a kid. I wondered if he’d started drinking it after he left, or if he’d bought them just for me. I tried to watch TV but nothing held my interest. I couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss.
The sun was halfway to setting when I heard a woman’s laughter on the other side of the door. Curious, I got up to investigate.
Easing the door open a couple of inches, I peered into the hall. My father stood by the elevator, across from a dark-skinned woman with blonde braids and enviable curves. Her voice dripped with affection when she said his name.
Jealousy, sharp and unwarranted, flared in my gut. It made no sense. My father was a handsome man, and she was obviously a beautiful woman. Who was I to begrudge them a flirtation, or anything else?
I forced myself back to the couch.
My father sauntered in a few minutes later and sat in one of the recliners. I pretended to be riveted by the selection of on-demand movies.
“Sorry, that took longer than expected,” he said. “I’m starting a new piece and the planning always takes twice as long as the painting. I hope you weren’t too bored.”
“I’m fine.” I fiddled with the volume settings and pleaded with my voice to sound normal. “Was that your model I heard?”
“It was,” he said. “Her name’s Kristin. I’ll introduce you next time she’s here.”
I looked at him and then had to look away. He was assessing me again, his gaze penetrating my strained veneer of calm.
“Are you hungry?” he asked.
“I could eat.”
He rose from the chair. “I’ll make us some dinner.”
From the moment we sat down to eat, he seemed content to pretend the kiss had never occurred, which was fine by me. He asked me to show him some of my sketches, and spent the rest of the meal paging through my sketchbook, pointing out the drawings he liked and how I could improve the others. I felt buoyant, high on validation. I’d almost forgotten about the kiss entirely, until his hand captured mine on the table and I felt a jolt like a spark in my chest. Even my nipples had hardened.