Page 124 of Stroked Hard
Dear Hot Sex,
I never said I was a cook. I mean, I can cook some things but that’s about it. It all really depends how the meal turns out when I’m done. Not going to lie, I outdid myself tonight. Spaghetti with garlic bread (slightly browned).
Growing up, my father taught me it isn’t the woman’s responsibility to cook and clean, it’s a shared responsibility. When you’re with me, baby, I will make you dinner, I will help clean, I will make my mission to show you that what we have together is a partnership. Everything is fifty-fifty.
I’m hoping you like to cook in an apron . . . naked. Eat up, beautiful.
I love you, Melony.
Yours forever – Big Daddy
P.S. Say hi to Boo and Bear for me. I miss them.
Smiling, I dig in to the meal he prepared me.
Not so bad.
***
It’s late, my lights are out, I’m reading—thanks to Hollis—and there is a knock at my door. Thinking today was a no-contact day, Hollis has done that sometimes, I curled up, not expecting anything.
Luckily, I was wrong.
I open my door to find a note attached to it and nothing else.
I lock everything back up, and go to my bed to read it. When I pull out the letter, a picture comes with it. It’s the selfie we took of Hollis kissing my cheek. We look so damn happy in the picture, it hurts my heart.
I read the note.
Dear Hot Sex,
It’s crazy that this is the only picture I have of us. It actually makes me really mad. How come I was too busy to capture moments with you? I blame it on the sex. I also blame it on wanting to soak up every single moment with you and not spend it behind my phone.
I counted on my memories lasting forever, but with my broken heart, they seem to be fading. I can’t stand the thought of not being able to close my eyes and see your smile, or smell your scent, or hear your laugh. It’s a fucking consuming fear I have because, whether you want to believe it or not, you are my everything.
You once told me you weren’t enough. Fuck, you were so wrong. You’re almost too much. You fill my heart to capacity, Melony. You make it easier to breathe, easier to enjoy life. These past few weeks without you have been utter torture but I’ve been holding on to the idea that you will finally see value in yourself.
I see it. I’ve seen it from the very first day I met you. You’re captivating, enthralling, mesmerizing. You hold your own, you’re funny, sexy, and have a beautiful heart. You’re everything I could ever ask for. I’m just hoping I can live up to your expectations.
I know one thing for certain. I’m not going anywhere. I’m yours forever.
I love you, Melony.
Yours FOREVER – Big Daddy
More tears. That’s all I’ve been doing lately, crying. I can’t control my reactions because it is like a floodgate has opened exposing the grief I have bottled up for years. And it hurts. It hurts so bad.
I read his note a few times, loving the way his handwriting is starting to make me feel at home, loving how he ridiculously signs it Big Daddy, and loving how he’s made me feel whole again.
You once told me you weren’t enough. Fuck, you were so wrong. You’re almost too much. You fill my heart to capacity, Melony. You make it easier to breathe, easier to enjoy life.
As do you, Hollis. As do you.
When my phone buzzes with a text message, I pray that it’s Hollis but when I pick it up, my heart falls.
Paisley: Don’t forget about my birthday party tomorrow. You promised you would come. Don’t let me down. P.S. Yes, you have to bring a present.
Shit, I forgot about Paisley’s birthday party. I told her I would go in a moment of weakness, before she was harassing me about Hollis. It was obvious she was trying to get information for him. I haven’t talked to her in a while because I was trying to avoid her barrage of questions, which makes me feel awful. Just because I’m going through a difficult time doesn’t mean I have to be a bad friend.
