The Fling (18+)

Chapter 26

In the morning, Dad, Bruce and Adam were lured away by the prospect of an early round of golf. Blaming my headache from the night before, I managed to escape being dragged along.

Unfortunately, so did Jessica.

As the SUV disappeared down the driveway, I was left alone with my father's wife.

The sound of the engine slowly faded, replaced by birdsong and the background buzz of summer insects. The silence between us stretched to discomfort, but I couldn't think of anything to say.

Her voice broke the awkwardness, "I'm thinking about making myself a latte - would you want one?"

"Sure." Turning, I followed her inside, closing the door behind me.

In the kitchen, Sally had left things spotless before leaving to pick up groceries for dinner - the marble countertops gleamed in the sunlight and the dishwasher hummed quietly next to the sink.

Jessica went to the immaculate array of cabinets, finding the coffee and the grinder. Moving like her hands were on autopilot, she ground the dark beans into a fine, aromatic powder before turning to the pristine espresso machine on the counter, "Would you mind getting the milk for me?"

I nodded, heading for the fridge, "I didn't know you knew how to do this."

Jessica laughed, "First job I ever had was as a barista. Some things you never forget."

Handing over the carton, I asked, "Really?"

"Yup," she nodded. "Started when I was in high school, and ended when I started my internship."

A lump formed in my throat.

Her internship.

Old, familiar anger washed over me.

Her internship had culminated in her fucking my father and destroying my family.

My fingers tightened on the brushed chrome finish of the refrigerator. It took effort not to slam the door shut, and, with condemnation in my eyes, I turned to look at her.

She was only nineteen...

I blinked as the thought flashed across my mind.

She was only nineteen.

Standing there, currently two years past that marker, I tried to imagine what it must have been like for her, a teenaged nobody on the lowest rung of the corporate ladder being swept away by the smarmy, charming CEO.

She was only nineteen.

Inwardly chastened, I walked to the other side of the kitchen island and pulled out a stool, sitting while the gleaming copper machine hissed and steamed.

"Do you want some flavor? Looks like he's got vanilla and caramel?"

Bile on my tongue, I muttered, "Vanilla, please."

Her busy hands worked efficiently, and it wasn't long before she placed a steaming mug before me.

"There you go!"

Wrapping my hands around it, I breathed in the rich, sweet vapor before taking a sip.

Perfection.

As I savored the taste, she picked up a second mug and got to making her own.

Taking another drink, I swallowed before saying, "Thanks, this is great."

Jessica smiled, "You're welcome!" before turning back to her task.

In isolation, the moment held a homey sort of comfort, an ease that I'd never expected to feel with Jessica.