Millie
“But, Millie, these aren’t chips,” Addy proclaimed, holding what she called a ‘French Fry’ up in the air on the end of her fork. She was staring at it perplexed.
I’d made an English meal of sausage and chips. I’d managed to get some English Sausage from a deli in Knightingale, along with some potatoes that I was able to make into thick cut, English style chips. All this was to be followed by Eaton Mess, a mixture of meringue, fruit, cream, and raspberry sauce, as made by Addy.
“That’s what we call chips,” I said with a laugh. “What you call chips we call crisps.”
Addy looked at Jesse and shook her head. “The English are silly,” she grumbled.
“You think?” Jesse asked with a smirk as he tucked into his food.
“Yep. Millie, tell Daddy what your biscuits are like.”
Jesse and I laughed at Addy’s pouty little face while she tackled the sausage that she had refused to let me cut up.
“So, go on,” Jesse urged. “Tell me about your biscuits.”
“Well, they’re not dumplings that’s for sure.”
“What’s a dumpberling?” Addy asked, still concentrating on her food.
“A dumpling,” I corrected, “are what you call biscuits. Our biscuits are sweet and you call them cookies.”
Addy dropped her knife and fork and lifted her hands palms up, frowned, and shrugged. “See, Daddy, real silly.”
Jesse and I burst out laughing which only made Addy frown even harder.
“Oh, Addy,” I sighed. “You are funny.”
“I’m not funny, you’re funny.” She shook her head and started to giggle. “Your biscuits are like cookies, that’s just weird.”
Jesse reached out a hand and stroked it down Addy’s long blonde hair as she went back to her food, still giggling.
“You okay?” I asked him.
Jesse’s eyes were bright and shining as he looked at me and nodded.
“Yeah, just wish I’d seen her be this happy more often.”
“You were dealing with your own grief,” I said. “The main thing is you’re here for her now.”
“It’s not just that,” he said, glancing at Addy again. “It’s you. You’ve made her happy. When she was smaller, we just thought she was going to be a quiet kid, you know. When we realized how bright she was, I told Melody that maybe she needed to interact with her more, but it was hard trying not to talk baby talk to a toddler.”
“She never laughed or smiled?” I found it hard to believe, Addy had been nothing but a happy child since I’d arrived here.
“Yeah, but usually at bath time. Bath time was always a lot of fun,” he said, the memories making him grin widely.
I smiled, thinking back to the night before when I’d heard them in the bathroom, laughing and having fun.
Jesse sighed. “Melody just couldn’t get her to do much more than watch TV or draw. Although,” he said in a whisper, leaning closer to me, “her drawings were more a scribble, she may be bright but she ain’t no artist.”
We both laughed quietly as our gazes simultaneously turned to Addy.
“Did you do bath time?” I asked, knowing what the answer would be.
“Yeah, that was my time with her. Bath time and bed time story.”
I nodded. Happy times were with Daddy because she’d always adored him.
“Well, she’s happy enough now. As for me making her happy, I think it’s a lot of things,” I said as I started to clear away the dishes. “You’re spending time with her, Bonnie isn’t so stressed, Garratt is home, and I’m getting her to use her brain, which means play time is all the more enjoyable. I’d say that’s a pretty epic group effort, wouldn’t you?”
Jesse’s eyes closed momentarily as he exhaled slowly.
“Yeah,” he said. “Pretty epic.”
We both stared at each other, and unspoken gratitude was passed between us. Addy wasn’t my child, but I couldn’t thank Jesse enough for finally letting her back into his heart.
“Daddy,” Addy cried, interrupting our moment of silence. “It’s time for the dessert. I made it. But,” she whispered. “Millie calls it pudding and pudding is Jell-O, but there’s no Jell-O in it. How silly is that?”
“Oh, baby,” Jesse laughed, pulling her onto his lap. “I love you.”
Addy flung her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. “I love you, too, Daddy, but Millie is still silly.”
After dinner, Addy wanted to play cards and when she said her game of choice was ‘Concentration’, I was pretty sure that I heard Jesse let out a pained groan. To his credit, he didn’t say anything, but got the cards and dealt them with some dexterity it had to be said.
The longer we played, the more I learned that Jesse and Addy were both extremely competitive; there was no letting the child win as far as Jesse was concerned. Unfortunately for him, I was not of the same viewpoint, and on a couple of occasions gave her a little nod towards a matching pair. Jesse’s face was a picture when Addy won the deciding 5th game – they had won two each - I on the other hand, won none; probably because I was concentrating on Jesse’s laughing blue eyes far more than I was the cards on the table.
“I still think you helped her on that last game,” he grumbled as I cleared away the mugs that we’d had hot chocolate in.
“Seriously?” I waved a hand at him and bit my lip to stifle the laughter. “You need to chill out, Jesse.”
“I don’t,” he cried. “You need to stop teaching my daughter how to cheat.”
“You have no proof. She’s a bright girl and won fair and square.”
“Well, she couldn’t stop giggling about something when I put her to bed.”
“She’s probably just happy to have beaten you, that’s all,” I replied.
“Whatever, Millie,” he laughed and flicked the newspaper at my backside.
“Ow.” I turned to him with a grin and rubbed at my bum.
His own smile was a mile wide, and it warmed my heart to see him happy and relaxed.
“Well, just remember how that feels next time you want to cheat.”
I let out a sigh of contentment and watched as he sat in the recliner, shook out the newspaper, and began to read. The worry lines that were usually in permanent residence on his brow had smoothed out, and his mouth was curled into a small smile. My chest constricted as I watched him and when he reached a hand up to run it through his hair, I had to press my thighs together to relieve the aching throb that was starting between my legs.
Jesse Connor had become my addiction. I’d had a taste, twice, and it was never going to be enough. I needed to taste him every day in whatever way possible; him inside me, his mouth on mine, or my mouth on his cock, I didn’t care.
My breath shuddered as I shook my head and moved into the kitchen. This wasn’t me; I wasn’t the sort of girl who had dirty thoughts. I wasn’t a prude, but sex wasn’t something discussed in our house; my mother was a practicing Catholic who had once made my brother give three ‘Hail Mary’ for asking her what pre-menstrual meant. Where Jesse was concerned though, I had no filter. My brain just wouldn’t stop imagining all of the beautifully dirty things that we could do together.
“Millie!” Jesse was suddenly behind me.
“Oh sorry, yeah?”
“I was just asking if you’d like a beer.”
Jesse moved towards the refrigerator and an image of the previous night flashed before my eyes. We’d been going to have beer then, too.
The refrigerator door slammed and Jesse opened a drawer to pull out a bottle opener. He popped the caps and passed a bottle to me.
“Are you okay?” he asked before taking a swig of his beer.
I nodded and held the cold bottle against my heated neck. The warmth from between my legs had rapidly travelled up my body and I was desperate for some relief.
“Okay then.” Jesse smiled and glanced quickly at the table.
He was having exactly the same thoughts as I was. His eyes were suddenly hooded and his chest was rising and falling rapidly. I ran my tongue along my bottom lip and drew in a breath as Jesse’s hand reached up to push my hair behind my ear.
“Millie,” he whispered.
“Jesse?”
He said nothing but let his hand slip to my cheek, where his fingertips whispered against my skin before dropping to his side. I swallowed, taking a step forward, my eyes never leaving his.
“I’m in so much trouble,” he whispered.
My free hand reached for Jesse’s, and took a loose hold of his fingertips. He looked down at our touch and then back up to me. His eyes were no longer a bright azure blue, but were now a deep sapphire color and were full of promise.
He put his bottle of beer down onto the table and then reached for mine. As he pulled it from my hand, the front door slammed.
“Hey kids, I’m home!”
Garratt was back. Jesse dropped my hand, took a step back, and still holding my beer, walked into the living area to greet his brother, leaving me a hot, wet mess of frustration.