"I did."
"Grandma said Mom hates men because of Grandpa. She said you never stood a chance. I wish you would've told me that years ago. I felt like you didn't want me, or Mom, but that wasn't true."
"No. I'm sorry, sweetness. I never wanted you to get stuck in the middle of it. My whole life has slipped by and only now have I realized what makes me happy. I want a family," Tristan said. Every so often he lifted his eyes to mine as he talked to his daughter. "I want you and Grant. Teresa isn't going to make it easy, but … would you want to live here … with us?"
Claire gazed at her father, moved her attention to me, and then back. She sighed. "Do I have to answer right now?"
"No. Of course not." His strained smile gave away his disappointment.
Claire must have seen it too, because she explained, "I've been thinking about it for a while now, because I've always lived with Mom. The last couple of weeks have been different. She's clingy, and I worry about her drinking. Seeing you every day will be different too. Besides, I'll have to take a different bus and leave earlier. Mom's house is close to the school, and yours is all the way out here. I wouldn't ride with Kirsty anymore." Her reasons were logical and she seemed so grown up about the whole thing.
Tristan patted her on the back. "I understand. Those are all good reasons to consider."
Claire took another bite of cupcake while I gave Tristan a sympathetic half smile. I didn't think I could make him feel better, but I hoped he'd know I was here when he needed a hug later. Claire asked for a glass of milk to go with her cupcake, so I got her one. She drank half of it and set the glass down, pausing before she continued, "It's not like I haven't thought about it a hundred times. I love you. I really like Grant. Danny lives closer to you. I think I'd like living here, but … ."
"But what?" he encouraged.
She glanced at me and then asked Tristan, "But would you guys be having sex all the time?"
I choked and quickly snatched a glass out of the cabinet for a drink of my own. Her question caught me completely off guard.
Tristan was more in control than I was and only needed to clear his throat nervously. "So, um, Claire-" He coughed. "-why would you ask me that? I thought we'd already covered this."
She was unfazed. In fact, her expression was so casual I wasn't sure she was thinking about our previous conversation at all. "Um, I don't know." She lowered her eyes to her plate. "Danny was saying how some guys only want to have sex all the time, and he was worried about hooking up with a guy who wouldn't care about taking things slow." She picked at her cupcake wrapper. "He said the first time's supposed to hurt, and he's worried about penetration. He's never had sex either, so we were talking about our fears and-" She glanced up with a wide-eyed expression as she finished. "-and I cannot believe I just said all that. Oh my God." She glanced at me and back to Tristan, and then buried her face in her hands. "Please, please, please, forget I said that." Claire groaned. "I just want to die."
Tristan's shock drained away, and then he chuckled.
"It isn't funny," she grumbled quietly into her crossed arms on the counter.
"Yes, it is."
I piped in, "No, I agree with Claire. This isn't funny. Those are valid fears."
"No, I think it is. Claire, sweetness," he stressed, rubbing her back until she lifted her head to look at him. "As much as I think it's healthy for a parent to talk to their kid about sex, I also don't want you getting your information from your mother, or from other virginal teenagers. I'd rather you talk to me than Danny. Although maybe I need to talk to the both of you, since it sounds like he needs someone to talk to as well. I'd rather inform you myself than have you make a huge mistake. I'm not talking to you about the specific things Grant and I do together. It's unnecessary. We're an adult, married couple, and what we do behind closed doors is no one's business but ours. As far as having sex all the time while you're here, I told you I wouldn't. Grant makes too much noise." She gasped, and I jumped in shock. Tristan kept going, but with a smirk on his face. "If we were to have sex in the middle of the night, he'd wake up the entire neighborhood with his wailing and moaning and begging and-"
"Please, stop. Stop now!" I cried.
Claire cupped her ears and started humming loudly. "La, la, la. I can't hear you."
Tristan laughed heartily and sat back in his chair.
Claire put her hands down. "That wasn't funny, Dad!"
"Yes, it was," he laughed.
"No, it wasn't," I added.
Claire got out of the seat and made haste to the steps. "See if I help you look for crap at Mom's house again. I think you need to do it yourself!" She stomped up the steps. "And if I hear Grant moaning while I'm living here, I'm going to shoot myself. Thanks for the cupcakes, Grant."
"You're welcome," I called back to her.
"And Dad, you need to fill out a paper for me to change buses," she added from the top of the steps.
"Okay, sweetness," Tristan answered. He was laughing so hard he had tears running down his face.
I declared, "I don't know what that was, but if you meant to scare her, I think you succeeded."
He wiped his eyes. "No … and yes. I wanted her to know I'd talk about sex, but it wasn't a good idea to ask about you and me."
I snorted. "Yeah! And now I don't even want to talk about you and me."
He laughed but held out his hand. "Come here." I took it, and he pulled me into his arms. "You heard her, didn't you? She's agreed to live here." He kissed me. "That means I might need to buy a ball gag for you when we have sex, to keep you from screaming."
I swatted at his chest and blushed. "Stop!"
He lowered one hand to my ass and squeezed. "You love it." He winked and kissed me again.
Chapter 16: Hopes, Dreams, And Financial Planning
CLAIRE DIDN'T move in right away. It took her another week and a half to decide she was ready to move more of her clothes into Tristan's house and change her habit of riding the bus to her mom's after school. Like me, she didn't own that much besides clothes, but her shoe collection was enough to make me jealous.
I had needed that week to prepare for her arrival. I'd only been around Claire for two weekends. They had been good ones, but living permanently with a teenaged girl in the house was something to work myself up to. Moving in with Tristan had changed my routine already. I was no longer living alone, and I was also not living with my controlling, albeit well-intended, mother. I was living with another man and sharing his bed, his space, and his time. When Claire moved in, it meant sharing even more of my space, with someone who potentially wouldn't like it.
With Tristan, we'd fallen into sync quite easily. I got up with him, adjusting to an earlier schedule without difficulty. Tristan even set his alarm thirty minutes before his previous routine to allow for morning sex, which I was not complaining about. In fact, for the week and a half it took Claire to move in, we had sex three times a day on most days. I think it was a challenge to see where we could do it, and how many times, before our freedom became limited. We're talking the kitchen counter, the dining room table, in the shower of course, up against the front door, over the back of our new sofa, on our new recliner, on top of the washer during the spin cycle-which actually made me nauseated-and on the stairs. I'd thought that would be uncomfortable, but Tristan insisted we try a variation of the reverse cowgirl, and I actually enjoyed it. And we also had sex on our new carpet.
We had had an enormous amount of sex in the two weeks I'd lived there, and since we'd only just been married, Tristan compared it to being on a honeymoon. I had no problem with him fucking me however and wherever he wanted. Since those first tentative times after we'd been married, I had learned how to relax and take him in. In fact, I craved it.
WE DECIDED to throw a dinner party for our one-month wedding anniversary coming up on Sunday, November 15. It was up to me to call or e-mail the last minute invites to our friends. I'd worked a long shift on Wednesday so I could take off Thursday, Friday, and Saturday to put another coat of paint on the hallway upstairs and finish the living room. I also wanted to be there when Claire got off the bus, and to finish up the work I'd been doing on Tristan's accounts. I had too many things going on at once, but I worked more efficiently when I overextended myself.
Tristan's records were atrocious. I had no idea how he'd escaped an audit by the IRS, but at least I was certain he was safe now. If the IRS did show up, his bank records and receipts were organized and easy to follow.