AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I mean, think that I was his. Which I'm not. Right? Right?!?
“What else did he tell you?” Quentin’s features have an almost-bored look, but his gaze is sharp. He’s interested in finding out more about his son.
“He didn’t talk about you, or his mother, for that matter.”
Quentin’s expression doesn’t change, but the light in his eyes dims a little. I feel sorry for him. And I don’t know why. “He was angry with you. He felt you did him wrong.”
“And he’s right.” Quentin runs his fingers over the short stubble on his scalp. The gesture reminds me of Felix messing up the considerably longer hair on his head every time he was anxious or upset about something. Ugh, I’m not sure how I feel about that.
It’s one thing to contemplate marrying your ex’s father, but this resemblance between them makes the situation downright uncomfortable.
“I’m not going to sugarcoat the situation. Fact is, after Felix’s mother left us, I was quick to hand over the responsibility of child-rearing to my aunt.”
“What about his mother?” I blurt out. I’ve never been curious about her before this, but having met Quentin, I have a burning need to find out more about the woman who bore him a child. A woman he was interested in enough to have a relationship with.
"She left." His voice is flat. “The only times I saw her after that were when she'd show up to ask for more money."
“What did you do? Did you send her the money?”
He stares at me with something like disdain. “Do you think I wouldn’t? I’m not heartless. I knew I was partly responsible for her leaving us. I wasn’t there for her when she was a new mother, struggling to take care of Felix. I put her on an allowance until Felix turned twenty-one.”
Surprise and something like warmth coils in my chest. I wouldn't have expected him to do that. Especially since, he comes across as all stern and grouchy, almost bordering on mean. “That was generous of you,” I suggest.
“She was the mother of my son.” He snorts. “No matter that she wasn’t interested in meeting Felix or finding out how he was doing.”
I stare at him in shock. “That’s horrible.”
“Not to mention, stressful. Over the years, she's had a knack for turning up whenever anything big happens in my life. The only thing that made her go away was more money.” He runs his fingers through his hair. “At least we weren’t married. Saved me the bother of divorcing her.”
He must see the consternation on my face, for he smirks. “Have I shocked you?”
“Not particularly.” I pop a shoulder. “Maybe a little. But who am I to judge? I’m pissed off enough with what Felix did to wish I'd never met him.”
His features tighten. “I’m sorry he did that to you. But also, I’m not.” His gaze grows intense. “We wouldn’t be sitting here, otherwise.”
That warmth in my chest turns to sparks which zip down to my pussy. Gah, one look from him, and I’m wet. Correction: I’ve been wet since I first saw him at the church. I squeeze my eyes shut.
“We... shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t be here. You’re Felix’s father. This is so wrong.”
When he doesn’t reply, I open my eyes to find him staring at me with an inscrutable look. “I understand the situation is unorthodox,” he says slowly.
“That’s putting it lightly,” I snort.
“But if there’s one thing I've learned, it’s that, no matter what you do, there’ll be someone who disagrees with you. You need to follow your instincts. So what, if no one else understands your actions? They’re not in your situation. They don’t know what you’re going through. Only you can decide what’s best for you.”
I search his features and find honesty. He’s not trying to sell me a load of bullshit. He means what he says. Guess there’s some benefit to having more life experience?
“How... how old are you?” The words are out before I can stop them.
“I’m forty-nine,” he says without hesitation.
“You’re twenty-six years older than me,” I whisper.
“Does that bother you?” His stance is relaxed, his gaze alert.
I consider his question carefully, then shake my head. “Honestly, no? I’ve often felt older than my years. And I’ve met people older than you who act like they never grew out of their teen years.” I laugh. “I’m aware age has nothing to do with maturity.”
His eyes gleam. He’s pleased by my response, and that sends a flush of heat curling in my belly. Why is his approval so important?
