“Yes, only a handful but there are. I’m having them restored and framed at a photo shop.”
My lips tremble and I fan myself so I don’t completely fall apart and ruin my makeup. I look below the photo and see a gold plate with an engraving that reads: In loving memory of Lydia Silver, our desert rose.
I can’t hold back the tears any longer. I sink into the booth as Graham’s arms engulf me. Our waiter approaches, confused, but Graham asks him to give us a moment.
Finally, I compose myself after excusing myself to the ladies’ room to freshen my makeup. I look at myself in the mirror over the sink and I see so much of my mom in me. I smooth down my dress, a similar style to the one my mom is wearing in the photo, and I smile.
I lean my back against Graham’s chest in the booth. The music fills the room. I feel like I’ve been transported back in time. Men and woman sip fancy cocktails. A few take spins around the dance floor—it’s simply magical.
“Shall we?” He stands, extending his hand out to me with a flirty smile, and I join him. We walk to the dance floor, his arm snaking around my waist as the other holds my hand.
“Are you happy?” he asks as I let out a content sigh.
“Very.” He holds me close, our bodies swaying to the music through several songs.
“Thank you,” I say against his chest.
He looks down at me. “How are you feeling about things? About us? How our relationship is going?”
I can’t help but smile because it feels amazing. After we both confessed our feelings for each other, I realized that he was worth a second chance. He didn’t just tell me he was sorry; he showed me.
“Great. I’m happy, very happy actually.”
“And are you excited about starting your new job next week?”
I nod. “A little nervous too. I’m still worried they’ll realize they hired me and rescind the offer.”
“Not possible. You’re perfect for it and you’re going to do amazing things at that school.”
We go back to dancing for a few moments.
I never ended up actually quitting the nanny job. I realized that I acted on emotion and I also realized I didn’t want to quit the job. Eleanor will be going to school full-time in two weeks. While I start the new job in one week, her grandmother will help out with the childcare aspect for the interim week, and Graham has decided to take the week off to spend more time with Eleanor.
He’s been spending more time with her recently anyway and it’s been beautiful to witness. We’ve even gone on a few outings all together. We went to the Brookfield Zoo, the Shedd Aquarium, and Legoland.
I was nervous about the conversation we agreed to have with Eleanor about our relationship. I don’t know why I doubted how she’d react. She was elated that me and Daddy were now officially “kissing friends” as she likes to put it.
“Speaking of jobs, I think a promotion is in order.”
I furrow my brow and look up at him.
“Well, since you’ve officially moved into my—our—bedroom and we are officially a couple, I think it’s only right.”
I’m still confused.
“And don’t worry, I ran it by the boss Eleanor first. She actually made you something for the occasion.”
He reaches into his suit pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper and a black velvet box. My heart catches in my throat.
“Oh my God—”
He slowly drops down to one knee in the middle of the dance floor.
“Margot Roxanne Silver, I could spend a lifetime expressing to you how much you mean to me. How you made me believe in love again. How you helped to heal my heart. I would love more than anything for you to allow me to do just that, spend my life showing you how important you are to me and how much I love you. Will you marry me?”
Tears fall down my cheeks as I nod my head excitedly.
“Yes. Yes!” I say as he removes the ring from the box and slowly slides it on my finger. It’s an exquisite marquise solitaire with a gold band. Simple and elegant.
The crowd claps around us, bringing me back to the moment as I stare at the ring.
“Wait, what abou—”
Without a word he stands and hands me the folded piece of paper. I look from his eyes to the paper, taking it from his hand and slowly unfolding it.
It’s a picture by Eleanor. It’s three stick figures of me, Graham, and her in the middle with big sloppy letters that reads, Will you marry my daddy?
“This next song is dedicated to the future Mr. and Mrs. Graham and Margot Hayes.” The singer’s smooth, melodic voice fills the room as Graham takes me in his arms once again and leads me around the dance floor.
28
GRAHAM
SIX MONTHS LATER…
I stare down at my wife’s naked body tied to our bed and bite my fist.
“Goddamn, baby girl, you were made to be fucked.”
She tugs on the restraints, her back arching.
“You ready to be fucked by your husband?” I reach my hand down between her thighs. “Oh, you’re soaked, sweetheart; you’re definitely ready.”
I bring the wet fingers to my lips and savor her taste as she whimpers.
I grab my belt and slowly undo it, followed by my zipper.
“Please,” she begs, and it’s like music to my ears.
“Please what?” I ask, pausing my movements.
She squirms again and I crawl up her body, the cold of my belt buckle making her jump as it makes contact with her skin. I lean down and circle her hardened nipple with my tongue, swirling it around before taking it in my mouth and biting.
“Ah.” Her eyes close and she arches into the pain.
I turn to her other full breast and repeat the process.
“Please, daddy.” She finally says the words; they’re filled with need and it drives me wild.
I remove myself from her quickly, kicking my pants and underwear off. I place a knee on the bed as I push her thighs further apart. I grip the underside of her thighs, pressing them upward so she’s fully exposed to me and there’s nothing she can do about it.
I lean down, dragging my tongue up her in one long, slow lick from her asshole to her clit. Her body shudders.
“You’re so close already, aren’t you?”
“Ohhh,” she moans as I flick my tongue repeatedly over her swollen clit. “Please,” she begs again.
I’ve been teasing her for close to an hour. It’s been torture for me to watch her come over and over from my tongue and hands while remaining in my tuxedo pants.
I grip my cock, positioning it at her entrance before pushing my way inside her sweet, wet pussy. She grips me tightly, and I lean my head forward, trying to stop myself from coming on the spot.
“Oh, fuck, Margot; you’re so tight. So—” I pull out and thrust back in further this time. “Fucking—” I repeat it again until I’m all the way inside, buried. “Good.”
I try to go slow. I try to be gentle, but she begs me not to.
“Harder,” she begs as her tits bounce with every thrust. Her head falls back on the pillow as her hands grip the restraints at her wrists.
We’re both panting. The sound of our bodies slapping against one other fill the room as the headboard slams against the wall.