Big Daddy

Chapter 22

chapter twenty-two

quincey

The drive to the restaurant is surprisingly silent, but Winnie never releases her grip on my hand and she doesn’t lift her head from my shoulder. It’s the best twenty-two-minute drive I’ve had in years. Once inside, I loop my arm around her waist at the hostess station as I inquire about our reservation. Winnie’s soft voice calls up to me and I look down into her green eyes, wide and red rimmed. “They’re here,” she whispers, nerves dancing in her eyes like vibrant flames. I lean down, pressing my lips to her cheek, quietly reassuring her. “It’s gonna be okay, beautiful.”

She smiles up at me, and I can’t help it—I’m not a grinning type of man but goddamn it, here on the cusp of making our relationship official, with her coming home with me tonight, the feel of her sweet pussy lingering on my fingertips, I smile at her.

“Quincey,” a loud, familiar voice booms from behind.

Before we can discuss it, and before I can overthink it, I lean down and kiss her cheek, whispering, “I love you, Winnie.” I turn to see Augustus standing behind us, wearing the same sharp suit he wore to the ceremony. At his side is Lance, and a moment later, we’re exchanging greetings as we shake hands. In the periphery, Brielle follows, eyeing Winnie.

I look over at the woman I love, whose gaze is volleying between me and my daughter. Winnie’s plentiful curls shine beneath the restaurant lights, and her glossy green eyes glitter with unshed, worrisome, guilt-filled tears. Reaching back, I squeeze her hand, noticing my daughter’s eyes following like a magnet. I don’t do it to make her uncomfortable, I do it to make Winnie comfortable.

“Give me a moment? I would like to be here for this,” I tell Aug after we exchange formalities.

“Should we let them talk alone?” he questions calmly, holding eye contact. I judged this man because of his career and his relationship with my daughter, but the truth is, he’s sharp and decent.

I nod. “We should but,” I say, stalling as I adjust my already perfect tie. “If it goes south, I should be there. This whole ordeal, it’s my doing.”

All of it is my fault. Every bit.

Augustus and Lance nod, stepping aside to chat quietly. They’re not bad men, and if my daughter cares for them, I should too. Why I fought her on it, I don’t know. It was wrong, and it took me being a hypocrite to understand it. I hate that about myself but it’s true. Soft voices gather my focus, and I turn to catch the beginning of Winnie’s speech to my daughter.

“…I’m so, so sorry for telling your dad about you and Augustus and Lance. It was completely, utterly and totally wrong and disgusting of me and I swear on my life, B, that I only did it because he was… freaking out.” Her beautiful eyes are heavy with worry, dripping with tears as she nervously smooths her hands down her thighs. I was freaking out. Not a single word of what she’s saying is a lie, and yet, she may lose her best friend in the entire world all because of me.

I won’t let that happen. I can’t. Brielle doesn’t deserve it, and neither does Winnie.

“I’ve never seen him worried like that. He was scared, B and I couldn’t let him suffer that way.” Brielle has never ever seen me worried that way. I’ve shown her anger, I’ve displayed impatience, and I’ve smothered her with overbearing control. But concern for her well-being in the form of raw, broken emotion? Never. The shock that pulls her eyes wide tells me everything I need to know: I need to show my daughter how much I care for her in softer ways. I’ve been harsh to my own detriment, damaging what could be a rich, fulfilling relationship. When my daughter speaks, her voice is hoarse.

“How long?”

Winnie blinks, full lips parted in silence. Tears run freely as she answers, “Four months.”

Brielle’s shoulders give just slightly, and it’s a minor physical adjustment, but enough for me to know she will forgive her best friend. Maybe not tonight, or tomorrow, but she will. Her heart, her compassion, her understanding—she’s the best thing I’ve ever done and she will show grace where I did not. I know it.

“How?” she asks Winnie.

Winnie straightens, sitting up taller, likely prepared for Brielle’s inquisition. The hostess returns, leading Aug and Lance to a table. With a dark chignon shiny under the dim lights, the young woman splits a look between the three of us. “Let me know when you’re all ready and I’ll take you to the table.” My daughter smiles before focusing on Winnie. All of them ignore me, and I can’t help but feel like I deserve it.

“I was at your apartment one day while you were at work. Honestly, I can’t even remember why I was there. Probably eating your food or something,” Winnie admits, all while I chew the inside of my mouth to prevent myself from announcing exactly what she was wearing, how she had a stray tendril of hair across her forehead, how her hips made her sweats look edible, what was on the TV, and what she was eating. I remember every detail. “Anyway,” she continues, tears still glistening along her cheeks. “I was having a moment when he came in. And the door was unlocked so he walked right in on me.”

“A moment?” My daughter questions, clearly assuming that the moment Winnie was having was… salacious. Then again, Winnie has only shared her FeetFans account with me. Brielle doesn’t know. “What the f?—”

Winnie stops that train of thought immediately. “No, not like that. I was… crying,” she says softly, looking down at her clasped hands. My daughter’s angry and rigid demeanor softens some.

“Why were you crying?”

“Oh,” Winnie waves Brielle off, like her emotional breakdown is of zero importance. “It’s not important.”

“I’ve only seen you cry once, Win,” my daughter says, her concerned eyes flashing my way for the first time in the conversation. “Why were you crying?”

“I’d just been… down. And, I don’t know, you were loving Crave and finding a stride with Aug and Lance and I just… selfishly felt so left behind. And I was—I am—happy for you. But I don’t know, I also felt sad for myself. No parents, no job, no mentorship, no apartment of my own—just debt and work and a good attitude. But it’s a mask, you know? My positivity is just a mask I wear and I rarely take it off. But that day in your apartment, I needed to take it off, B. You know?”

The space between us falls quiet, despite the clatter of plates of the quiet roar of chatter and laughter. Winnie was depressed, and when she lays it all out that way, knowing how she assessed herself and her life makes my chest ache deeply and painfully.

Brielle nods. “I know.” She takes Winnie’s hand, and I have the strongest urge to do the same, but I don’t move, just listen. “But I didn’t know you were depressed.”

Winnie produces a small smile. “I’m on antidepressants now,” she admits. “He helped me with that, you know.”

Hairs along the back of my neck rise up as she tenderly credits me with her improved mental health. And yet, in the same moment, grief and guilt swarm me knowing I should have been that same support system for my daughter.

“You’re—you two are serious?” Brielle asks, her eyes moving to her lap as she processes. “He was who you were texting all those times,” she says slowly. Winnie nods confirmation as she cries.

“I’m sorry, B. I love you so much and I don’t want to lose you. But…” She smiles sadly, quietly adding, “I love him.” She’s never said that to me. She feels it, I’ve felt her feeling it, so I know it’s true. And while it’s the first time I’m hearing it, I love her even more for not bothering to look my way. She keeps her attention on my daughter, and my chest aches at the notion.

Brielle looks up at me.

“Give us a minute sweetheart,” I tell Winnie. Winnie and Brielle rise, sharing a timid hug before Winnie pulls back and wipes her eyes, still staring into Brielle’s eyes.

“I’ll wait, B. I’ll wait and wait for you to accept me. Because I love you and I am so sorry I lied to you, but I’m not sorry for falling in love.” Awareness warms me. She really loves me. With that, she disappears into the pool of patrons, sifting through until she finds Augustus and Lance. I sit down next to Brielle and she sits down too, eyes still following Winnie.

“I’m proud of the contract you earned. Augustus and Lance told me all about it.” I don’t know where to start, but telling her I’m proud feels important. “I’m proud of you. I always have been. I should have said that more.”

“You hate that I make adult movies,” Brielle says.

“I won’t lie, it’s not what I envisioned for you. But I’m sure what you envisioned for me wasn’t Winnie,” I tell her, studying her face, reminding me so much of her mother. Beautiful, hardworking, funny, gifted. She’s incredible, and instead of riding her hard to make her into a mini me to prove I could be a solo parent, I should have just loved her. That’s what parents are supposed to do. Love.

I scoop my daughter’s hand up with mine and place a kiss to her knuckles, knowing now I have so much to make up to her. “I’m sorry for it all, Brielle. I’m sorry for doubting you and fighting against what you told me in your own words. I’ve always wanted the best for you and I know, I know I haven’t always gone about it the right way. And I know I've brought up money too often and—” I pause, shaking my head at my own journey. “I’ve made mistakes. I’ve tried, Brielle, but I’ve made mistakes. And one of those mistakes was how I treated you when you got serious about Crave and directing, and them, too, even.”

Brielle nods, giving me a trace of a smile. “I’m sorry for not answering your calls?—”

“Don’t be. You were right. I have done that to you over the years. That’s one of the many things I regret, how I handled myself when we disagreed or even just how I handled myself, period. But I’m working on that.”

“With her?” she asks, hurt lining the strength of her words. “Never mind. I appreciate everything you’ve said. And I don’t hate you or Winnie… but I need time.”

“I understand.”

“I wanted to want to break it off with her, because I felt so guilty. I didn’t want your friendship ruined. But I was spinning out, I couldn’t get a hold of you, and she told me about them—Augustus and Lance. And while I was angry and didn’t understand, I realized—neither of us planned these unconventional relationships. We only plan on falling in love, and sometimes it’s a lot different than we think once we finally have it.”

I get to my feet and extend a hand to her, helping her up. “We have to work on us, you and me, but tell me, Brielle, tell me we can? I want this for us. This has nothing to do with Winnie.” I need to show her I can be the father she needs.

Thank God, she nods. “We can.”

We find the table and join everyone, and while it starts off a bit quiet, it progresses nicely, naturally. I’m surprised to find I have endless things to discuss with Augustus, and an equal amount in common with Lance. When Winnie sifts her fingers through the ends of my hair, Lance and Augustus squeeze Brielle’s hand, giving her the wordless emotional support she clearly needs.

When I find myself feeding Winnie a bite of steak, I notice that Lance smooths his hand down Brielle’s thigh, and Augustus places a soft kiss on her cheek. When she speaks, they listen intently, and when she rises, they take her napkin and help with the chair. They are attentive and respectful, and encouraged this dinner for all of us to make amends. They’re good, hardworking men who love my daughter and the fact that I blindly railed against them and their love? I am a fool, and I feel it more than ever.

How can I be angry at my daughter for finding the same fulfillment I found in Winnie? We have a nice dinner, all things considered, but leave before mentions of coffee or dessert. I want to get Winnie home and pick her brain about how she feels the night went, how she’s doing, how she’s processing. Lance and Aug filter out as Brielle stops next to Winnie at the table, staring down at her with hope lifting her lips.

“Congratulations,” Winnie says quickly, before my daughter can speak. She’s nervous, I can see it. Where smile lines usually rest from laughter and bratty behavior, grooves of stress and anxiety now appear. I hate that I did this to her, but I’m proud to have a daughter who has been so graceful and understanding, even as I myself did not treat her the same way when the roles were reversed weeks ago.

“I know I already said it but I want you to know I’m not just saying it because I hurt you. I really am so happy for you and your new position at Crave, and moving in with Augustus and Lance.” Winnie gets to her feet and swamps my daughter in a hug, which is reluctantly returned.

“Thanks,” Brielle says. “I forgive you, because I know you weren’t trying to bag my dad, the same way I didn't really expect to end up where I am. And I want you to know, my distance right now… it’s me processing. It’s me realizing that even when we make up and put this snafu in the past, our relationship will never, ever be the same again.”

“Don’t say that,” Winnie whimpers as my heart splits.

I feel like an outsider being privy to this talk, but I can’t leave. The two most important people in my life are right here. Walking away would kill me. “We’ll never swap stories the way we used to. I can never complain to you the way I used to. You’ll never have escapades to share.”

Winnie sniffles at my daughter’s words. “I know.”

“But maybe we’ll have something more mature. More grown up. More reflective of where we’re at now,” she offers, wanting to mean it, hoping at some point in the future that it’s true. “The truth is, I’d rather have you in a different kind of relationship than not have you at all, Win. But I need time. Okay?”

I love the way my daughter told Winnie the truth, but also infused reality with hope. Hope for a new relationship, one more evolved and perhaps even better.

Winnie nods fervently, “Okay. Take your time.”

I’d give Brielle just about anything, at this point, to accept my apologies, to give me another shot at being the father I can be, and for her to keep her heart open to Winnie.

Of all of the things she can do, keeping her heart open to Winnie is the greatest gift that I don’t deserve, but I’ll show her everyday I’m grateful for it.

Moonlight paints Winnie’s legs as she rests her head on my chest in the backseat. The world whips by, streetlights, partially lit buildings with occasional laughter seeping through when we stop at intersections. But her soft sniffles and sad little hiccups overrun everything else going on. She’s sad, and it’s nothing that I can fix. Time is what we need because time is what Brielle needs.

When the car finally rolls to a stop at the end of my driveway, I tip Winnie’s face to mine, keeping my hand beneath her chin. Holding her head up, I stare into her glittering green eyes, my chest tightening at the sight of her.

“Your first night in the house,” I whisper as we wait for the driver to open the gate.

She wrinkles her nose, and even after a night of heavy emotion, I love the way she always finds energy to give me grief. “No. I’ve spent the night before.” She reaches up, pushing hair behind my ear, smoothing her fingers down my nape. My cock hardens at her tender, casual touch.

“I meant your first night in the house now that it’s your house,” I tell her, watching her face for a reaction. Her eyes widen and she starts to shake her head before I bend down and seal my mouth to hers. God she tastes good. She tastes like fulfillment and laughter, desire and heat. Everything about Winnie fills me up in places I didn’t know were empty. I stare down at my younger, beautiful other half and wipe my kiss from her lips.

“Our house,” she corrects, surprising me.

“I thought you’d fight me on it,” I admit, still talking softly despite the partition being up. I’ve shown her my rough side as a person and lawyer, my insatiable and aggressive side as a lover, and my dominant side as a partner. In different ways, I have to show both Winnie and Brielle my softness. To have the relationships they both need, I have to, no matter how foreign it may feel.

Yet as we broach the topic of what we said to one another earlier tonight, I don’t feel awkward whatsoever. I feel free. Like the weight of my life has been lifted, and for the first time ever, happiness is in my hands.

“But then,” I start, staring into her eyes as she loops both hands around my neck, adoration passing between us. “You told Brielle that you love me.”

She licks her lips, her chest rising with an anxious breath. “I do love you.”

I dust my lips along hers. “I don’t know how I got to be so lucky.”

Her laughter permeates my lips as I kiss her. “You’re very lucky, you’re right.” Winnie’s cheeks fill with color as the driver parks and I pop open the door. She lets her high heel slip from her foot as she wiggles her toes across my lap. “These are in high demand, you know. And you’re getting them for free.”

I dance my eyebrows. “Get inside and show me what those clients will never have ever again.” She climbs across my lap, grazing my partially hard cock, giving me a little grin before leaping out onto the gravel. On my feet behind her, I lasso her waist and hoist her over my shoulder, my chest warming with the barrage of giggles and playful cries as she smacks at my back.

“Put me down, Big Daddy!” she laughs.

I don’t say a word until we’re inside the house with the front door locked.

“We’re inside, can’t you put me down now?” she asks, pieces of her curls sticking to the stubble lining my jaw. I put her down and immediately take her face in my hands, my groin stirring at the way she tenderly places her hands on top of mine.

“I love you, Winnie.”

She smiles. “I know.”

“I’m sorry our relationship has complicated things with Brielle, and I promise to do everything I can to mend my relationship with her, not just for us. For her. For me.”

Winnie’s smile falls away as she blinks up at me with wide, accepting eyes. “It’s no one’s fault. It just happened. All that matters now is that in time, we’ll be okay.”

I nod, moments from the evening passing through my mind. I stroke my thumb along her bottom lip and she moves her hands to my chest. “I hate that you were so sad when I met you,” I admit, realizing that hearing her talk about that tonight made me feel ill.

“You helped me get better.” She shakes her head as if changing her mind. “You helped me understand that accepting help doesn’t make me weak, you helped me see that when something is special, I’ll know.” She rocks to her toes and kisses me. “You also taught me what it feels like to really get dicked down good.”

My hands fall from her face, and I playfully scowl as I point down the hall. “Get in that bedroom now and prepare to pay the price for ending our moment.”

She kicks off her heels and skips down the hall giggling, her curls bouncing everywhere, making my erection soar. “Didn’t know Big Daddy has big moments,” she teases before disappearing around the corner near the den.

Hooking my fingers around my neck, I yank open my tie and follow her, my mouth watering.