Mondays have gone from my least favorite day to the best day because I know I’ll get to see Penny again. She’s only here Monday to Friday, and while I’d like to see her on the weekend, I had to give her some days off. Even if I feel like I need to see her, touch her, fuck her every day. It’s a possessive urge, to make sure she knows that she’s all mine. Just knowing that soon I’ll get to drill into that tight pussy again soon makes my pole hard as iron.
I even decide to skip out on work a little early today. I was guilty in the past of staying late, but these days, I don’t feel that urgency. Penny pulls me home in a way that nobody else ever has. I know that they’re expecting me late, so it will be a nice surprise.
As soon as I walk through the door, I smell onions and garlic bread. It must be pasta night. I pause in the foyer, quietly closing the front door, and will myself to think of anything else to ease my erection. Knowing I’d have an awful lot of uncomfortable questions to answer if my daughters see the tent in my slacks helps.
“I’m home,” I call out once I’m decent.
Amanda pokes her head from around the kitchen doorway. She’s got on a princess dress, a leftover from Halloween. They must have been playing pretend again this afternoon.
“Dad! You’re early!”
“Work was slow today,” I say.
I shrug off my coat and hang it up, then walk down the hall. I hear laughter, Amelia’s laughter of all things, as I come closer. The scene laid out in front of me is a domestic one, one that feels somehow perfect. Amelia is by the stove, stirring a pot of sauce as it bubbles. Amanda is setting out forks and plates on the table, carefully making sure that each is perfectly laid out. Penny stands by the oven, pulling out a tray of cheesy garlic bread slices. She’s got on a frilly pink apron, the one that Andrea refused from my mother. It made her mad to think that her mother-in-law expected her to stay in the kitchen, she had said. I guess mom had given it to the girls to play with instead, and somehow it ended up on her. I have a sudden vision of her pushed against the counter, wearing nothing but her apron as I take her from behind. I have to restrain myself from thinking any further.
“You’re just in time to help, dad,” Amelia says, turning around. “The pasta is ready to be drained.”
“Great,” I say, stooping down to open the cupboard with the colander in it. What used to be a mess is now tidily arranged. Another great thing about having Penny around. She’s brought order into chaos as far as my home life is concerned. “I can definitely do that.”
“Yes you’re just in time to do the heavy lifting,” Penny says, but she looks a bit preoccupied. Normally she’s beaming as soon as I walk through the door after work, so I wonder what’s on her mind.
I take the steel colander over to the sink, stepping behind Penny to get past her as she arranges the bread on a plate. My hand brushes past her waist, trailing just long enough for her to turn towards me. I want to reach around her, pull her close into a hug, feel her soft body against mine at the end of a long day, but I have to hold out until later. Annoyance flickers through me.
“I hate not seeing you on the weekends,” I whisper into her ear.
She smiles at me.
“Even if I make it worth your wait?”
My eyes drop down over her gorgeous breasts, the snug turtleneck sweater showing nothing and everything all at once.
“Even if,” I say. “You should move in. It’s not so strange to have a live-in nanny.”
“We can talk later,” she says, her eyes darting to Amanda.
I look up and notice that she’s watching us closely. I straighten up quickly and move towards the sink, placing the colander so that I can drain all of the pasta into it. I move back over to the stove. Amelia is chewing on a bit of spaghetti.
“Hurry dad,” she says. “Or it won’t be al dente. That’s the perfect texture for pasta Penny says.”
I switch off the stove and grab the handles of the big pasta pot. Penny moves out of my way, bringing the bread over to the table. I tip over the pot, steam billowing as I dump out the pasta and water together.
“Dinner’s ready,” Amelia announces to all of us. She’s holding her ladle still, and she looks proud, as if she’s done the whole thing herself.
She hands me the pasta fork, and I pile spaghetti onto everyone’s plates. Next comes sauce, and I have to help Amanda scoop it out onto her spaghetti. We all sit down at the table, me at one end, Penny on the other, with the girls on either side of us. Amanda immediately grabs a piece of bread and bites into it.
“This is good,” she gushes. “We should have cheesy bread with all of our dinners!”
Penny laughs.
“Well you know the recipe for it now, so I’m sure you can help your dad make it when I’m not around.”
She twirls her spaghetti on her fork.
“So how is school Amelia?” she asks.
“Great! I’m almost all caught up again, thanks to your help…”
Amelia and Amanda are both leaning in towards Penny, excitedly sharing their news. She’s focused completely on them, listening intently as they talk. This would never be the case with Andrea. For her, the only thing that mattered was that someone was listening to what she had to say. Our daughters were like a built in audience as far as she was concerned. The two of us got married when she found out she was pregnant with Amelia. I did the honorable thing, the right thing in proposing marriage, but I wonder if maybe it hadn’t ended for the best anyways. Andrea seemed to expect I would automatically love her. I guess I thought I would too. Maybe our delusion was what led to such an acrimonious divorce, why I ended up throwing myself into my work. I watch my three girls chat and laugh as they eat and my heart’s pretty much about to burst with pride.
Hold on a fucking second Morrison. Three girls?
But it’s true. I realize that I am thinking of Penny that way. Because she cares for the girls just as much as I do, I’ve almost slipped her into the role of mother. I blurred the lines without even realizing it. And I can’t have that. She gives me a glance, as if to say aren’t these two just wonderful, but I can’t make myself smile back. Have our secret exchanges muddied the waters? Have I been treating her as more than I should have? Damn it. I just need to pull back.
Amanda shakes my arm, and I tune back into the conversation.
“Daddy? Did you even hear what I said?” she asks, brows furrowing in disapproval.
“Sorry Amanda, I was thinking about a problem with work. Tell me again?”
“I need you to come on Friday to be a parent volunteer. I wrote it on the calendar.”
Crap. I knew there was something about Friday’s meeting that was bothering me.
“I’m sorry sweetie, but I’ve got a huge meeting on Friday. I’ve already moved it twice and I don’t think I’d be able to again. Is there any way I can switch with another parent?”
“No!” she huffs. “The schedule was decided ages ago. And anyways, nobody’s parents switched. I don’t want you to.”
I curse myself for forgetting. Here I was, thinking I’d finally gotten a grip on the whole parenting thing, and this happens. I can’t disappoint Amanda. I can’t.
“What exactly will you be doing?” Penny asks.
“Dad’s supposed to be helping with the art project!” She’s got a stormy look on her face, the look that comes just before a tantrum. She’s outgrown them for the most part, but once in a while, they make a comeback, and when they do, man you best duck for cover, because it’s terrible.
But instead of devolving into screams, her face clears up.
“Why don’t you come Penny?” she asks brightly.
“Me?”
Her green eyes dart to mine in alarm.
“Yeah!” Amanda leans forward, warming up to the idea already. “You’re already dad’s girlfriend, right?”
Penny’s fork hangs in midair at her words.
“Amanda, where did you get-”
“She’s right,” Amelia adds. “We see the way you look at each other. You definitely didn’t look at Sue that way at all.”
“Like you’re in looooooooove,” Amanda sings.
“Now hold on a minute-” I start to say, putting my glass back down on the table more forcefully than I should have.
“Please. I know Penny’s not mom, but if you guys get married, then she would be right? So it’s not that weird to have her volunteer. Mrs. Abraham already knows all about Penny.”
Alarm bells are ringing in my head at every single word Amanda says. Fuck, I thought I was keeping things under wraps, but clearly my daughters are more perceptive than I give them credit for. Amanda’s always asking whether or not her mother and I will get married again. This might be her way of finally getting the family that she wants. No this can’t do. If the girls think that we’re going to get married, then they are already far more attached to Penny than they ever should be. When the recruiting agency told me last week that they found a potential nanny I had ignored the email. Clearly I shouldn’t have.
“Why don’t you let me see if I’m able to find a way to reschedule the meeting first before we bug Penny, okay?” I tell Amanda. “We might be able to get Uncle Louis to go instead of me.”
“Okay,” she replies, mollified.
Thankfully, the rest of dinner passes by uneventfully. I have no idea what we talked about, but somehow I managed to keep up the appearance of an attentive parent, all the while trying to figure out how I’m going to sort out this huge mess I made. This is what comes of thinking with your dick instead of your head Morrison. The girls were going to be upset when Penny left, but I couldn’t see a way around it.
Once the girls ate all their food, they dash off to the basement to watch T.V. For once I don’t bug them about homework. I want them to be completely engrossed in their show before I speak to Penny.
“That was something huh?” she asks, her laugh nervous as she carefully puts away the leftovers into glass containers.
I walk over to her and lightly touch her arm so she stops what she’s doing. Her face falls when she sees how serious I look.
“Penny,” I begin slowly.
She jerks her head in a hard shake.
“There’s no need to say it,” she says tightly.
“Hold on. Look at me.”
I wait until she does. Her beautiful eyes are glassy with unshed tears.
“It’s been fun.” My voice is husky with emotion. “But it was only supposed to be that: fun. My business would take a hit if they knew I was sleeping with a nineteen year old. Potential investors would lose confidence in me. More importantly, I can’t have the girls falling in love with you, not when things aren’t permanent. You don’t know what you want to do with your life. What if you do figure it out? Or maybe you want to go back to school. All of that would be disruptive for them, right when they’ve already have such major changes. I’m sure you understand.”
“I do.”
Her eyes can’t meet mine. Her hands fiddle with the glass lid. I know she’s about to cry, and I want more than anything to pull her to me, to stroke her hair until her tears dry. But I don’t reach out. I can’t.
“Good. Then you should go.”
Her mouth drops open.
“Wait. You want me to go?”
“You’ll have two weeks of pay for severance,” I tell her. “I know you don’t depend on it living with your parents and all, but it’s the least I can do.”
Penny says nothing.
“Do you need more?”
She steps back from me, as if I insulted her.
“No I don’t need more,” she says, her voice wavering. “I don’t need a thing at all.”
She drops the container lid, and whirls around. Her hand brushes tears from her eyes, and I watch as she stalks out of the kitchen. I figure she would leave immediately, but she doesn’t. I hear her pacing in the hallway as I busy myself with taking care of the leftovers. I hear her take a few deep breaths, and then she goes down the stairs to say goodbye to the girls. I’m not surprised. She’s going to miss them, and they her. But instead of tears, I only hear her walk back up. A few moments later, the door shuts behind her.
I find myself standing alone in my kitchen, where an hour ago, I thought I had everything that could make me happy. Now I have nothing at all.