Intern For My Best Friend's Dad: An Instalove Possessive Age Gap Romance, Flora Ferrari [best ereader for academics .txt] 📗

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Sophia

“I think it’s wonderful,” Mom says, flipping the pancakes with so much flair her fluttering summery dress dances around her. “I know it’s not the most conventional thing, but I can see how happy you are, Sophia. I can see how changed you are. No—not changed. I don’t mean that.”

I giggle, delighted Mom’s taken this news in her stride. After telling Caitlin and the possible pain I thought it might bring, the task of telling Mom reared up inside of me with the aura of a threat.

“What do you mean, Miss C?” Caitlin asks from beside me.

The morning is bright, as though nature knows how much lighter my heart feels after the scene on the balcony.

It’s been a few days since then, and I’ve spent as much time as possible with my man, exploring a sexual side of myself I never could’ve guessed existed before we came together.

The dinners and the small private moments have been just as important, though, filling me with so much light I feel as though I could burst with it.

“She’s not changed, exactly,” Mom says, giving the pancakes another flip. “It’s more that she feels confident enough to be more herself. Your father – her boyfriend – he’s helped her feel more comfortable in her own skin.”

“I can’t deny that,” Caitlin says, smiling over at me.

Part of me expected her to regret her acceptance of mine and Solomon’s relationship after the revelation on the balcony, but in the passing days, she’s only become more enthusiastic about it.

“I can see the change in both of you,” she said to me on the phone last night. “I went to visit Dad at his office earlier, and he was humming. Do you know how weird that is, how amazing?”

I keep waiting to jolt awake and discover that everything after the fight, telling Caitlin and the love-filled moments, has been a crazy fever dream.

Everything’s just going so perfect.

I don’t want anything to spoil it.

Love.

I suppose that’s the only root of anxiety still twisting its way through me, the way the L-word hovers on the tip of my tongue every second I’m with my man. I’ve almost blurted it out during sex several times, just throwing the words out there in the heat of our unleashing on each other.

But somehow I’ve managed to restrain myself.

What if I say it and he doesn’t say it back?

“You don’t know how much this means to me,” I say. “I was so scared I’d be forced to choose between my best friend and my soulmate.”

“Soulmate,” Caitlin smiles, shaking her head indulgently. “I’ll never get used to hearing that.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“No,” Caitlin rushes to add. “Not in a bad way. What I meant is …”

She pauses, chewing her lip, and then her eyes get that just-Caitlin playful quality, the look I remember from countless times in my childhood.

“It’s never going to stop sounding special,” she says. “It’s never going to stop sounding amazing. I’m so happy for both of you.”

I blink back budding tears as love brims into every part of me, so much it feels as if I could explode in a big ball of soul-soothing emotion.

“Are you okay?” I ask Caitlin. “About Kenny, I mean.”

She sighs and shrugs. “I chose the wrong man and it got me into some trouble. It happens. I’m seeing it as a learning experience. Plus, he’s going to be in prison for a long, long time, so I don’t have to worry anymore.”

I smile.

“You know you can call me, day or night, and we’ll talk for as long as you want. You know that, right, Cait?”

Now she’s the one with tears glittering in her eyes.

“Of course I do,” she smiles. “That’s why you’re my best friend.”

“Okay, you two,” Mom says, bringing a tray of pancakes over. “Enough of this emotional stuff. Who wants syrup?”

When I wake up the next morning, I stretch my hand across to the broadness of my man’s back like I always do. It’s like my internal body clock knows to wake me up a few minutes before the alarm goes off so that I can run my fingers over the ridged fullness of his muscles, over his shoulders, down the taut tightness of his lower back.

Sometimes he’ll roll over with an animal snarl, pulling me close to him, his length a solid promise in his boxer shorts.

Other times, I’ll just squeeze my body against his and it will feel as though we’re floating together on the mattress, unified in the moment.

This morning, my hand meets with empty sheets.

Even now – even after everything that’s happened – a part of me sends unfair messages surging through my body.

He’s run out on you, a vicious voice whispers. This has all been a trick from the beginning.

But then my fingers come to rest on a business-sized card on his pillow. I sit up, rubbing sleep from my eyes with my other hand, and pick up the card. The morning is bright, the wide windows letting in swathes of glowing sunlight, Solomon’s marble floors glittering.

When you wake up, my love, the note reads, come to the roof. I have a surprise for you.

I clasp the card to my chest, to my heart, letting out a shivering breath that’s full of hope and possibility. I try to tell myself that this could be anything, that letting my fantasies gallop ahead of my reason isn’t the right thing to do here.

And yet there’s an excitable part of me that can’t fight the smile spreading across my face, so wide it makes my cheeks ache with excitement and love.

Love.

I’m not afraid of that word anymore, even if we haven’t said it to each other yet.

“Love, love, love,” I murmur as I leap to my feet, dancing across the room to the dresser drawers where I’m keeping a lot of my clothes.

Despite such a short time passing, Solomon and I have become so comfortable in each other’s company. I’ve basically moved in, and