I heard the car pull into the driveway, the familiar sound sending a jolt of anxiety through me. What if he wished it had never happened? What if he saw me differently now, in a way that I couldn’t take back?
But as much as the fear and guilt gnawed at me, there was something else, too. A sense of inevitability, like this had been building for so long that there was no other outcome. We were bound together by something deeper than either of us had acknowledged before. Something that went beyond love, into the realms of power, control, and the need to be seen, to be wanted.
So, I waited. In the end, it didn’t matter what he felt, or what he would say. I was in love with him; I was committed to this path, wherever it might lead, and there was no going back. Not now. Not ever.
He walked in. I wanted to reach out, to touch him, to reassure myself that last night wasn’t just a dream. But I couldn’t. I was too afraid of what his reaction might be. He sat beside me; the air thick with unspoken words. I wanted to touch him, but I was too scared.
“Abigail, I have to…”
Shit. SHIT. I show in his eyes exactly what I was afraid of: he regretted. I cut him off, my voice shaking. “No. Don’t. Please. I know what you’re going to say. That it was a mistake, that it’s wrong.” I took a deep breath. “But it wasn’t. It was real. It was beautiful. And it meant something to me.” My voice gained strength. “I know it’s complicated. But I can’t pretend it didn’t happen.”
He reached out, but I held up a hand. “Please, just tell me you don’t regret it.”
He searched my eyes. “Abigail, Alice was my…”
“I know what Alice was to you and you know what she was to me, Rob.”, I cut him with all my force. “I loved Mom so much, you know that. I love her and I miss her every day, every hour, every second. And then you came into our lives. It wasn’t easy for her to take this decision, since her priority was always me. For Mom, trust wasn’t something you just threw around. You had to earn it. And you did, not just with her, but with me too. You were like… the ultimate dad, you know? Always strong, caring…And even when things got tough, you never wavered, no questions asked, not much of words, just this hug, these broad shoulders, always steady. You know, I never told you or Mom, but I was always so jealous of the other girls who had dads. But then you came along, and I felt so proud. None of the other kids had a father like you.”
“Abigail, I…”
“Please Rob, just let me say it all. Even though I knew you weren’t my real dad, it didn’t matter, ’cause you were always there for me and for Mom. I can’t count the nights I prayed that it would stay like this forever. It was so… I don’t know the words… so amazing. And the summers in the Keys… I mean, you two were…oh, my God, do you remember those two Harley guys when I was sixteen? You totally wrecked them for saying what they wanted to do to my… well, you know.” A choked laugh bubbled up, despite the tears.
He chuckled: “And I spent the night in the police cell….”
“Rob…I miss her so much. Every single day I wake up and feel the emptiness she left behind. I keep thinking about all the times we spent together, the secrets we shared, and the way she always knew what to say to make everything better. It’s like a part of me is missing without her. But at the same time… I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m relieved she’s not here. And it kills me to even think that. I feel like I’m betraying her, like I’m the worst person in the world for feeling this way, but I can’t help it. I envy what she had with you, the love you shared, the way you looked at her. And now that she’s gone… I can’t help but want to be…to be in her place, to be the one standing beside you.”
I tried to hold back the tears. I took a deep breath, the words tangled in my throat.
“I… I’ve felt so many things for you…especially for almost two years now… I felt…why everything has to be a mess…I felt happy and secure and protected that you and Mom was so in love and such a perfect much, and at the same time so jealous, so very jealous of her…of her loud moanings at nights, jealous that you wanted her so much, that you wouldn’t see me as a woman, jealous when…” I blushed deeply, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. “And then Mom was gone, and I felt so ashamed, so very ashamed, I couldn’t help but think that her death was my fault, that because of me she had this aggressive cancer…”.
“No sweetheart, it wasn’t your…”
“”Rob, please, just let me get it all out.” I took a deep breath, trying to steady my shaking voice. “But yesterday… yesterday I gave you everything, Rob. All of me. I don’t know what it meant to you, but for me… it was the most amazing moment of my entire life. I wanted you to see me, really see me, not just as Alice’s daughter, not as some ghost of her. Yesterday… you made me feel… seen. And I need you, Rob. I need all of you. It was… magical. More than anything I’ve ever felt. Yesterday, you filled me up in every way possible.”
Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring my vision. I looked down, unable to meet his gaze.
He gently lifted my chin, his thumb brushing away a tear. His own eyes glistened with unshed tears. “Abigail,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, “sweetheart, I’m your father; we cannot…”
“You are not my father, Rob!” I cut him off, my voice rising with a mix of frustration and desperation. “There is nothing sinister about us being together. I am a woman, with needs, and desires.”
“But Abigail, sweetheart…I can’t…”
“So, you’re telling me that you will never be with a woman again after Alice?” My voice was sharp, disbelief edging into my tone.
“Abigail, I…” He hesitated; his eyes filled with a turmoil I couldn’t decipher.
“No, just answer me this: you will never be with someone else, is that you’re telling me?” I pressed, needing clarity.
“I’m not telling you that, Abigail,” he said softly, his voice laced with a hint of sadness.
“So, it’s about me. It’s that you don’t want to be with me.”. I felt the ground shift beneath me, and suddenly, all the emotions I’d been holding in, all the fear and insecurity, came rushing to the surface.
I exploded. I couldn’t stop myself, couldn’t hold back the flood of anger and hurt that poured out of me. How could he say that? How could he be with other women, but not with me? Was it because he didn’t want me?
“Is that it?” I spat out, my voice shaking with a mix of rage and desperation. “You can be with any other woman, a whole harem if you will, but not me? Is that it? Am I not beautiful enough? Not experienced enough? Maybe I’m just not good at it, right? Not good at… keeping you satisfied?”
The words tumbled out, raw and unfiltered, exposing all the dark places inside me as I was being rejected by the person I wanted more than anything.
“You think I don’t know how to keep a man? How to be fucked the way you want?” My voice cracked, tears welling up, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t stop now. The words just kept spilling out, driven by a wave of pain I’d been carrying for so long. “I know I’m not like those other women Rob, I know that. I’m not experienced, and the experiences I’ve had were so…” The memories flashed in my mind, sharp and painful. “Maybe I deserve that, to be treated like…” I whispered; the words bitter on my tongue. “Maybe that’s all I’m worth.”
I hesitated, my thoughts spiraling into the darkest corners of my mind. Nothing mattered. Even with all the attention, the cheering crowds in the tennis courts, the photographers, the way men looked at me… none of it mattered if he wouldn’t want me.
“I mean, I don’t have those big knockers…” I sensed I crack. “I’m not perfect,” I whispered, my voice barely audible now. “I know that. But I…I just wanted to be enough for you, to be the one you chose. But you don’t, do you?”
I felt completely exposed, like every flaw, every insecurity was out in the open, and I hated it. I hated how much I cared, how much I wanted him, even now, even after everything. Standing there with my heart laid bare, all I wanted was for him to see me, to really see me, and understand just how much I was struggling to believe I was worth something more. I needed him to know that every word I spoke came from a place of deep, aching insecurity, a place I didn’t want to be in anymore.
“Abigail, how can we…” His voice trailed off, his hand trembling beneath mine. “Even if I weren’t your father, I am 21 years older than you. You are the most gorgeous girl I know, you should be with a proper man, Abigail… to love each other… You know that I love you, sweetheart, I always will, always, but not…”
“So, you love me but not me, not Gail is that it? You love me as your daughter, or your step-daughter or any other label suits your rejection; like you are twenty one years older and that is not proper…well, I’ve been with much older men, Rob, and not only they bother about the age difference but they would practically sell their souls for a chance to be with me. And yet, yesterday, age wasn’t a problem; you fucked me again and again and you crushed on me, and I felt you mine, like I was totally yours, yours Rob.”
The words tumbled out of me, raw and unfiltered, driven by the storm of emotions I could no longer contain. “And now what? What are you telling me? That after all this, you’ll just let me go? You’ll let me be with someone else and let him touch me, and you won’t care?”.
I could feel my voice shaking with anger and desperation, the words coming faster, sharper, as I imagined the things that could happen, the things that terrified me. “How can you stand the image of someone else fucking me, using my body however he wants? Filling my pussy with his filthy sperm, assfucking me, forcing me to swallow every disgusting drop? How can you not care? How can you just let me go and be with someone else, like I don’t mean anything to you?”
report I saw his hands ball into fists, knuckles white. But he just stood there, frozen, paralyzed. Tears burned in my eyes as I continued, my thoughts spiraling into darker places. “And all those who stare at my ass on the tennis court, the entitled rich kids and their creepy dads always trying to get to know me, inviting me to fancy places and VIP parties… just because I have the looks, the tennis titles, and soon, a prestigious degree and I would be the ideal trophy wife and the accommodating daughter-in-law. Is that what you want for me? To be someone’s arm candy, paraded around like a prize? Would you let you little girl be the wife of someone near my age, and we will…how you said it? ‘love each other’ while for him I would be just his prize and for me he will be a not you? Is that what you want?”
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