Chapter 1

POV Clayre

I pack my bags while sighing in anger. I place the fabric pieces next to each other, but my impatience is evident as I press them tightly into the small space of the suitcase. The reason for my frustration? I’ll have to live with my mother.

Dad raises an eyebrow and lets out a ridiculous smile, feeling completely victorious.

"Don’t make that face…" he teases with irony. "Sweetheart, it will be important for you to live with your mother. She is willing to make up for lost time and, most importantly, win your love."

I drop the clothes with force and cross my arms while staring at him.

In my chest, anguish predominates. Distress. Fear.

Insecurity.

"Do you think it’s that simple? Do you really think it’s easy to erase such a deep wound? She got pregnant at 32, she wasn’t so young and reckless," I raise my voice in pure indignation. "I’m fully aware that I would never abandon a daughter, and I’m only 18." I add, synchronizing my hand movements in the air, and my dad lowers his head.

When I was born, Liana realized she wasn’t ready for motherhood and simply left; it seemed like a painless choice since it took years for her to try reconnecting.

"Do you really think it will be easy to forget?"

Dad runs his hand through his beard, nervous, and paces back and forth, frustrated. Deep down, he knows I’m right.

"Sweetheart, she made some attempts to reach out, mostly unsuccessful, but this time she’s committed," he explains hesitantly.

I start my Advertising degree at Florida International University (FIU) in Miami after summer. FIU is well-known and of excellent quality. By luck or misfortune, Liana lives there and insisted on convincing Dad that she’s sorry. She offered her house for me to stay during my studies. I agreed, but the truth is, I’m scared.

I’ve never lived with her. The most time we spent together was about two hours when she would pick me up for an outing. During a period, I learned everything about her, either from conversations with Dad about the past or from researching her social media. I hope she did the same to get to know my preferences and that we can finally start over.

"I’m not going to act like she’s mother of the year," I warn, and his shoulders tense.

"Sweetheart, give her a chance, do it for me, please!" he begs with a sad expression. "I feel that this time she really wants to start over."

A long sigh escapes my lips, and Dad approaches to hug me warmly.

"I need to tell you something important. It’s about your mother."

"Ah, just by the tone of ‘important,’ I feel I won’t like it."

"I don’t want to know…" I warn as his arms wrap around me.

"Be vulnerable, don’t make it harder for me."

"Okay, Dad, go ahead."

He runs his hands through my hair and smiles.

"Sweetheart, even if you try to act tough, I know your little heart. You’ve always wanted your mother around, and you don’t need to be afraid to admit it; it’s natural. Don’t think that I want you to go because it has something to do with your illness, it’s not that, I didn’t tell her anything." He clears his throat, regaining his voice, and steps back to gauge my reaction.

"What I have to tell you is that she’s married." He made air quotes as he expressed the word "married."

"How is that?" I ask, surprised.

"She met a guy, they fell in love, and they’re living together. They’ll probably set a wedding date, but just so you know, you’ll be going to his house. I didn’t ask many details, but she said he’s flexible and laid-back. Just be warned, you’ll have a new ‘dad.’"

I put my hands on my hips, outraged by the news.

"And you thought it was important to tell me only now, Gerald Freburg? With just minutes to go before the trip?" I retort, imagining a thousand new surprises. "A happy family. Besides living with an old man who’s not even my dad, I’ll also find a sister I didn’t know existed?"

"Don’t exaggerate, Clayre." He wraps me in his arms, hugging me tightly.

He takes a deep breath, sad, and at that moment, my heart tightens with longing. Dad was much more than just a father; he’s my safe haven, my reason for not giving up and continuing to believe in life. He suffered alone, was a single dad, and split in two to fill the void my mom left in my life.

"Use a condom if you do, you know…"

We both start to laugh, overcome by the effect of the longing that surrounds us.

"Seriously, Dad? We don’t need to talk about this; you know I’m a virgin."

"No way, we had this conversation when you were 15. I hope it stays that way until your marriage, men are no good, Clayre, not for you, my heavenly angel."

I roll my eyes. My dad has always been overprotective, and I only had one boyfriend, but we never had sex.

"Come on, I’ll help with the suitcase." He promptly closes the zipper, perplexed by the bulging fabric.

"Why take so many clothes?" he asks, straining his arms to put it on the ground.

"I’m a woman, Dad, we like to have multiple clothing options."

He walks out the door, and I take one last look at the room.

I was born in Miami, where Liana lives today. But South Carolina has always been my home, and leaving Charleston for Florida is exciting. Dad puts the suitcase in the car, and I freeze, knowing that the hardest moment since I got into college has arrived: the goodbye.

I hug him tightly, and his scent brings me so much peace. He’s the best dad in the world and has always done everything for me. I’ll miss hearing his voice and laughter every day at breakfast.

"See you soon, Dad!" I ease, and he nods.

"I love you, take care, and call me, please!"

"Don’t worry, you take care, young lady. I love you so much, enjoy college, and this time with your mother." He kisses my cheek and then turns away, hiding the tears that have formed in his eyes.

He’s tall, strong, 60 years old, but he doesn’t look his age. He had a few girlfriends throughout his life, but none became his wife. Maybe the wound from my mom never healed. What I want most is for him to be happy and to be able to love again someday. I focus on his face and wave.

"Okay, see you soon."

I get in the car, and as soon as I take off, I realize that everything in my life is about to change.

Driving, having this independence, is something motivating. After all, for the first time, I’ll be away from dad’s protection. I enter the highway and turn on the music. I admire the sun that shines and warms my skin; it has a yellowish, soft tone, the typical rays of the morning. I’m excited about starting college, but anxious about living with Liana. She owns a coffee shop now. The love for coffee, I inherited from her. I really want to rebuild our mother-daughter relationship; after all, she gave me life.

The rest of the drive is smooth, and after almost nine hours, I’m entering Miami, Florida. My watch shows 4 p.m., and my heart races with anxiety. For many years, every time she showed up, hope for her affection would rise, but now I’m hardened. I’ve learned not to create false expectations, but still, I can feel my anxiety growing in my chest. I park at the marked address and admire the large, upscale residential building.

“I love it. Alright, let’s go.”

I grab my suitcase, pass through the main lobby, and am greeted by the receptionist. She asks for my details and uses the intercom to notify my arrival, but no one answers.

“Go ahead, Mr. Bourbon probably didn’t hear the phone, but everything is fine with your information.”

“My God, she married an old man who’s deaf? Just from the luxury apartment by the sea, I know he’s rich. A real guarantee for the future.”

I push these judgmental thoughts aside and enter the elevator.

“Alright, she said the top floor! Here I go.”

The elevator opens, and I walk down the large hallway, stopping in front of the door. The place is extremely elegant. The walls are light, the ceiling is glass, showing a beautiful view of the blue sky, and just ahead is the wooden door. I survey the entire hallway and notice that the apartment spans the entire penthouse.

“This is it! I hope this old guy my mom married isn’t unbearable.”

I press the intercom, and after a minute, a man unlocks the door. My eyes widen in surprise as I look down his well-built, almost naked body. He’s wearing a pair of short silk boxers and an open blue silk shirt. His legs are thick, resembling those of a football player. His muscular chest is covered with water droplets, making the view irresistible.

The gears in my mind seem to freeze as I take in his sculpted, muscular abdomen. My eyes travel down his body again, hypnotized, until they return to his attractive face.

His eyes are green and deep, his light brown hair is wet and pushed back. The trimmed beard emphasizes his perfect square jawline. I study the rest of his face, feeling a new warmth rising through my legs and settling in my stomach. His full, seductive lips curl into a half-smile, which heightens my nervousness. I quickly glance at the white wall, stunned.

“Definitely the wrong apartment.”

“Oh, sorry, I think I’m in the wrong apartment.”

His gaze seems to pierce my soul, and his lips curl into a deeper smile at the sound of my high-pitched, nervous voice.

“Who are you looking for?” he asks, while my mind is filled with fantasies.

I seem to get lost in his gaze; something about it makes my hands sweat and my stomach fill with butterflies.

“Let me see,” I mumble, lowering my eyes to the address on the paper in my hand as I twirl it around my fingers, clearly lost.

I’m completely shaken, and I feel foolish for it. The man takes the small paper from my hand while I still search for words to respond. He’s beautiful, striking, his scent intimidating, and his intense gaze.

“This is the address, it’s correct. Who are you?” His voice almost sounds like a whisper, leaving me completely disoriented.

My cheeks burn with embarrassment as I timidly reply.

“I’m Clayre Freburg. I’m looking for Liana Stuart. Do you know which apartment she lives in? It definitely isn’t this one…”

The man runs his right hand through his hair, which falls slightly again over his eyes.

“You’re in the right place, this is it. Is she a friend of hers or something like that?”

“I’m her daughter.”

“Daughter?” he asks, raising an intrigued eyebrow.

“Who are you?” I ask, and I’m sure he must be the son of Liana’s new husband.

“I’m Jack Bourbon, Liana is living with me.”

“Are you my stepfather?” I exclaim, my eyes wide.

“Yes, I am!”