Chapter 10: Keep Him Company
\[Rue’s POV\]
Ugh. I had the worst timing known to man. First it was finding these two acting like lovesick teenagers in the pool, and now I was finding them sucking each other's faces in the middle of the damned living room.
“Sorry,” I hiss, just wanting to escape. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you two.”
Tearing my gaze away from the two who are now separated but clearly looking disappointed by my appearance, I turn and head back into the hall that I just came from.
As I move, a knot forms in my throat, and my heart starts to sting from the unpleasant view.
“Dammit,” I growl, swiping at the tears that are starting to come to my eyes. “Stop it! Stop it right now!”
I couldn’t cry.
I wouldn’t cry.
I didn’t deserve to cry, and I didn’t deserve to feel like I was being wronged.
Neither of them did anything. Instead, I was the one in the wrong for continuing to get hurt over something that made someone I loved happy.
That’s enough of you. I growl inwardly, scolding my heart. You can’t keep acting like this. If you do…
They’ll get suspicious.
Eyes widening, I stop in my tracks as I realize for the first time that there was a chance they would suspect that something was up.
“Oh no,” I gasp, my hand coming to my mouth. “What did I…”
“Rue!”
Turning, I watch as my mother rushes toward me, her cheeks flushed, her eyes filled with determination.
“Good,” she gasps when she reaches me. “I caught you.”
“Sorry,” I say, fearing what she could be thinking about my reaction. “I didn’t mean to interrupt, and I just thought…”
“It’s alright.” She tells me, smiling like she always does. “I’m certain that wasn’t the best of views. I was your age once, and I too wouldn’t want to find my parents acting like that.”
“He isn’t my parent.” I point out, and her gaze falters a bit.
“Sweetheart,” she says slowly, giving me a serious look. “I know that this is all new to you. For as long as you’ve been around, it has been just me and you. Of course, you’re not going to warm up to the idea of there being another, but since Leo is my husband now, I would love it if you started thinking of him as a father figure.”
A father figure.
If she knew just how much I went through in order to be beside that father figure, I doubt she would be saying such a thing. But she didn’t know, and she would never know, so I needed to do what needed to be done.
“Yeah,” I say slowly, knowing that what she was saying was for the best. “I know. I’ll…” I falter for a moment as the man in question comes into view. “I’ll try.”
Swallowing, I tear my gaze from his and then focus on the woman in front of me while pretending that my heart isn’t breaking in two.
“Then why don’t you two spend some time together!” She says, and my eyes widen. “Leo wanted to go jet skiing, but I don’t want to. Why don’t you go together while I take care of some business?”
“Business,” I repeat, wondering what exactly she was up to. “You’re on your honeymoon; how can you possibly…”
“Deb called,” she tells me, sighing. “She said that there were some issues with our latest order of perfumes, and I have to figure out what happened. Even if I am on vacation, I am still the boss, and when things go south, it is up to me to fix it.”
“But Mom…” I begin but stop as she gives me a look.
“Please, go and keep him company for me.”
Her plea is so sincere, so determined, and so filled with hope and expectation that I find I’m unable to deny her, and when I finally nod and tell myself that this could be a good time to try to look at Mr. Owens as my father, I already know I’m going to regret it.
A few hours later and many internal struggles later, I stand to the side while Mr. Owens talks to the guy in charge of renting out jet skis.
He’s dressed in a white t-shirt and a pair of trunks, but even then he looks sexy with his messy brown hair and his tan skin, and when he turns and holds up two life jackets and some keys with a broad smile, my heart starts to go into overdrive.
“Ready?” He asks when he reaches me. “Now is the time to back out if you’re scared.”
“Who is scared?” I ask, taking the life vest he offers me. “You must be talking about yourself.”
At my words, his smile broadens and a husky laugh erupts from him.
Oh god, it sounds good. Much better than I remembered, and in that moment, I want nothing more than to continue to make him laugh.
“Do you need help putting that on?” He asks as I just stand in place like an idiot. “If so, I can…”
“I’ve got it,” I hiss, knowing that it would be bad for my heart if he were to get too close to me right now. “I’m not a child.”
“I know.”
Did he know? Did he really know? Because ever since we crossed paths again, he has been treating me like a child.
I’m an adult. I tell myself, not wanting this man to look down on me. I’m an adult, and it is about time he knew it.
Settling on this, I pull on my life vest, and when I start to work the clips, I keep the top one open. At least with this he would be able to see my chest, which I was quite proud of since it kept its curves after I lost all that weight.
“I’m ready,” I announce once I’m finished. “Let’s go.”
As I speak, I make sure to straighten my back enough for my breasts to bulge out, and when I reach Mr. Owens, I don’t miss the way his eyes travel down to them.
“You missed one,” he says, reaching out and snapping it before I can even react. “Safety first and all that,” he continues while turning. “Come on, our jet ski is over here.”
Nodding, I try to fight the annoyance I feel over what just happened and swear that before this vacation is over, I will make him see me as a woman.
At least if that were to happen, he would stop interfering with my life, and I would hopefully be able to move on.
“It’s here.” He announces when we reach our jet ski. “Let me get on first, and then you can join me.”
“Sure.”
Remaining in place, I watch as Mr. Owens carefully climbs on and then positions himself. However, when he finishes, I take in the small space that is left for me and realize that this could be a problem.
“Come on,” he calls, holding out a hand for me. “It’s your time.”
“But…” I begin, nodding toward the space that is left. “I don’t think there is enough room for two.”
“Of course there is.” He chuckles, patting the seat behind him. “Stop worrying and hop on.”
Remaining silent, I look from what is meant to be my seat to Mr. Owens and back, and when I realize that he may think of me as immature for not being able to sit close to a man, I hop on.