Total pages in book: 20
Estimated words: 18319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 92(@200wpm)___ 73(@250wpm)___ 61(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 18319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 92(@200wpm)___ 73(@250wpm)___ 61(@300wpm)
“Marco.” I whispered his name, a plea and an apology. My throat was too tight to get out anything else.
“I’ll see you…later,” he said shortly. I knew what he’d been about to say: I’ll see you at home.
Our home. The one we’d made together. The three of us as an unconventional little family.
And now I’d damaged everything.
Before I could find the words to atone for my grave sin, he stalked away from me.
“Ashlyn?” my dad asked, reminding me of his presence. “Is everything okay?”
I blinked hard in a useless effort to clear the sting from the corners of my eyes. “No. I…”
I stared after Marco, torn. I wanted to run to him and tell him how sorry I was. But I’d gotten into this mess by avoiding telling my father the truth. I had to make this right, and that started with rectifying my worst mistake.
The sight of Marco’s pain lit a flame inside me, fueling me with resolve. For my men, I could face anything. I would do whatever it took to protect them, just as they’d always protected me. I would keep Marco’s heart safe and heal the wound I’d inflicted.
Honesty was the only way forward.
I sucked in a deep breath and faced my father, too determined to flinch when confronted with his small frown.
“I need to talk to you,” I said firmly. “There’s a lot I haven’t told you about my life. Important things that I’ve been too worried to share with you because I’ve been scared of how you’ll react. But I can’t keep secrets anymore.”
His lips thinned beneath his thick moustache, and his eyes crinkled at the corners with a shadow of strain. “You can talk to me about anything.”
I shook my head and dashed a tear from my cheek, hating the burn in my cheeks. I wasn’t at all ashamed of my love for Joseph and Marco. So why did I feel so small in my father’s shadow, squirming at the prospect of his disapproval?
I lifted my chin and met him squarely in the eye. “I know I can, but that doesn’t mean I’m comfortable talking to you about everything in my life. All I’ve ever wanted was to make you proud, and…” My throat constricted, but I forced out the words, reminding myself that his pride didn’t matter; my men were proud of everything that I was, and that was all I needed. “You can be judgmental, Dad,” I finished.
The stark truth hung between us for a moment, his jaw slightly slack at the shock of my words. I’d never confronted him about anything, least of all our strained relationship.
“I’m not saying this to be accusatory or anything,” I rushed to continue. “But I need to be honest with you, and I know you’re not going to understand. But I hope you can find it in your heart to accept me as I am.”
He blinked as though I’d slapped him. “Of course I accept you, Ashlyn. I love you.”
“I know,” I said thickly, his declaration forming a lump in my throat. “I love you too. And I hope… I hope you can understand.”
“Talk to me,” he urged, more gently than he’d spoken to me in years. His warm hand rested on my shoulder, comforting.
I drew in a shuddering breath. “I’m with Marco,” I began my confession, “and I’m also with Joseph. I love them both. We’re a family. We’re getting married. All three of us.” I fingered the three diamond rings that adorned my left hand. “I want…” I choked on the plea, terrified of his answer. “I want you to be there. At the wedding. I want you to be part of my life. I want you to accept me as I am.”
My dad’s brow furrowed, and his mouth disappeared beneath his moustache as it twisted in distaste. “You can’t be serious.”
A chasm opened in the center of my chest, something crumbling inside me. His obvious disdain cut at me, but I filled my heart with all of my love for Marco and Joseph, drawing on that endless well of approval and unconditional affection to bolster my resolve in this awful moment.
I couldn’t live for my father’s judgmental standards anymore. Those days had been behind me for a while now. I’d just been too much of a coward to fully come clean with him. I loved my dad, but I loved my men more. They accepted all of me, just as I accepted all of them.
I had to live for my own happiness now—mine and theirs. I wanted my father in my life, but not at the cost of our happiness. Not at the cost of Marco’s pain.
“I love them,” I declared, straightening my shoulders. “Both of them. I hope you can accept that because nothing will change it. We’re in love, and we’re getting married. The three of us.”