Page 12 of Daddy's Reckoning

Fuck that.

She owes you an explanation.

Don’t let one misunderstanding derail a good thing.

Chase her down like a Daddy would.

Don’t give up.

She needs a Daddy.

Not just any Daddy.

Her Daddy.

You.

The highlights of the speech I’d given Lennon pounded through my brain on repeat as I ran out the door of the club. Somewhere in the back of my mind I was fully aware that I was far too buzzed to do anything tonight, and leaving The Penthouse wasn’t actually necessary, because I couldn’t go to Erin’s yet. Not tonight. Not like this.

But I left anyway, because I needed to sober up, and I needed to think and plan. Because I was her Daddy, and while what had happened between us was way deeper and more nuanced than whatever had prompted the scene between Lennon and Zoe in the club tonight, the advice was still sound.

Instead of heading home to my apartment, where I’d undoubtedly either fall asleep or be tempted to drink more, I ran around the corner to an all-night diner I’d frequented back in my college days and occasionally still visited.

I needed a strong cup of coffee, and something with lots of carbs to absorb the scotch.

At the diner, which was still pretty busy, I slid into a back booth, and when the waitress approached, I ordered a cup of coffee, a club sandwich, and a slice of pie. Only after I’d downed the coffee plus a complimentary refill, ate half the sandwich and scarfed the pie, which was still, even after all these years, the best I’d ever tasted, did I feel sober enough to think.

I hadn’t seen Erin in months. She’d been letting me Daddy her for the last two, but still keeping me at arm’s length. Everything we did was over text, with the occasional phone call. I’d asked for video a few times, for the purpose of accountability, but mostly because I just wanted to see her, and she’d shut that idea down immediately.

I’d been handling her with kid gloves, but if we kept going the way we were, I might not survive. I was drinking more, making mistakes at work, and I’d been in a piss-poor mood for months. Supposedly, what I was doing was helping her, but it wasn’t helping me.

The urgency with which I missed her had terrified me at first. It was still a foreign notion—I'd never felt like this about anybody. My friends had been making comments about my playboy ways, asking about Erin, insinuating that she must have finally figured out that I was not someone who could be tamed or nailed down.

I couldn’t blame them. I’d said as much myself a thousand times. The more a woman tried to “catch” me, the further I usually ran. But with Erin, no matter how much I tried to move on, telling myself it wasn’t meant to be and putting her out of my mind, the sharper the pain became. With Erin, I wanted it all. Two-point-five kids, white picket fence, maybe even a dog or two. I’d never had a pet. Hell, even all my plants were fake. I’d never wanted to be truly responsible for anyone or anything but myself.

Until her. And maybe it was because she was the one woman who hadn’t pushed me for more. She didn’t take one look at my fancy apartment, expensive car, stacked portfolio, and profitable business and see husband material. She just saw me.

Whatever the reason, I was hooked. Beyond hooked. I was all in.

Maybe I was enjoying being the one doing the chasing for a change. Maybe that was it. Maybe if she paid me half as much attention, I wouldn’t feel like she was stringing me along, and I wouldn’t feel so desperate to have her the way I wanted her— the way I used to.

Those thoughts were heavy, and I ordered another cup of coffee and sipped it slowly, rolling them around in my brain. Then slowly, I shook my head.

They were false. I knew it with every fiber of my being.

I was her Daddy.

Ours may have started out a business arrangement assigned by Nyla, but weren’t some of the best hookups blind dates, and some of the best marriages arranged?

Smiling to myself, I nodded slowly.

I was her Daddy. She was my end game. Wife material. Mother of my future children no matter how long I had to wait.

Now I just had to convince her.

And part of that would be acting like her Daddy. For real.

As much as she wasn’t going to like it, I had to stop letting her call the shots.