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“Oh yes, of course. Her middle name is Jayne and her date of birth is May 16, 1999.”
“Perfect, thanks, Dad.”
“Mom is going to be just over the moon. I think this calls for a vacation. I’ll round up your brothers and sister, and we’ll come and visit you both. Oh, my goodness, Mom is just going to lose it having all her kids together again,” Dad gushes, his ridiculous insistence that Maureen is in any way a parent to me or that their kids are my relatives in anything more than name, making me want to snap and snarl and rage at his fucking relentless presumption. But instead, I swallow back my annoyance.
“I have to get back to work. I can’t take any time off right now, and I know Henrietta is going to be busy getting the shop up and running.”
“Okay, son, well, maybe we can plan something in a couple of months’ time. I’m sure if you put in a vacation request, your supervisor can’t deny it. Of course, if you’d gone into insurance with me, instead of becoming a firefighter, you’d have been running your own office by now, and you could take off as much paid vacation time as you’d have liked.”
“I’ll speak to you later, Dad,” I say through gritted teeth.
“By—”
I end the call before he can even finish the word. Closing my eyes, I force myself to calm down by replaying the memory of Etta beneath me, my dick slamming into her and filling her with my cum over and over until I can relax my jaw enough to unclamp my teeth.
Speaking with my dad never fails to rile me up, but I can’t let him bother me when I have more important things to deal with. Opening my eyes, I exhale a long breath, then add Etta’s middle name and date of birth into the form and hit submit. After I’ve paid the admin fee, I book a slot with the judge, then slip from the truck and head back into work.
Base is empty except for Knight and Anders, who are in the kitchen prepping dinner.
“Where the fuck have you been?” Anders asks.
“The boss sent me home for a few hours, I had some personal shit to sort out,” I tell him.
“Does your personal stuff have anything to do with the woman you brought back to your house three days ago?” Knight asks, continuing to chop veggies without turning to look at me.
“How the fuck…” I trail off.
“You have a woman at your place?” Anders asks, clearly shocked.
“I have my woman at my place,” I correct him.
“Your woman,” Anders says.
“My woman,” I agree.
“Well, okay then.” He nods. “When do we get to meet her?”
“You can come to the wedding if you want.” I shrug, crossing to the kitchen to see what they’re making.
“You don’t want us to meet her?” Anders chuckles. “Worried she’ll like one of us better?”
“Oh, I know she’ll probably like one of you better, doesn’t mean I’ll let any of you fuckers take her from me,” I growl angrily.
“Dude, chill,” Anders says, lifting his hands up in a placating gesture. “None of us would mess with your woman, I was kidding.”
“When is the wedding?” Knight asks in his typical, blunt Knight way.
“Wednesday.”
“Wednesday?” Anders cries, dropping the spoon he’s using to stir something in a pan to the counter with a clatter and spinning around to face me. “Are you trying to be funny?” he demands.
“I don’t see what’s funny about him getting married,” Knight says, still happily slicing onions and peppers.
“Oz, is this a joke? Because there’s no way you’re marrying a woman you’ve known for a couple of days,” Anders says, his expression outraged.
“I never said I’d only known her for a couple of days.”
“So how long have you known her then?” he asks, narrowing his eyes at me.
