Filed to story: Submitting to My Bestie’s Daddy Read Online >>???
He believed he had kept the stash a secret, but I knew better. Maybe it was spiteful of me, but I had gradually been depleting his alcohol supply, starting with his favorites, even if I didn’t enjoy the taste of them. I had discovered the Spirytus tucked away in the very back, unopened. He hadn’t noticed, particularly after Elena suggested he stop drinking for the sake of the baby, and he agreed. Well, if he wasn’t going to drink it, I would.
Before Dahlia could scold me further, laughter echoed through the garden, and I spotted Elena delicately placing a beautiful white flower in my husband’s suit pocket. Her hand lingered on his chest a bit too long.
I glared at them with a murderous gaze, biting my lip as a wave of seething anger engulfed me. Whether it was the effect of the vodka or my own rage, I couldn’t tell, but I continued to drink, hoping that somehow it would neutralize these feelings.
“You’re not going to do something about it?” Dahlia asked, giving me a questioning look.
“What’s the point?” I snapped sourly. “He’s just showing her the garden, that’s all. It doesn’t mean anything. You’re overreacting. We have to take care of the baby, Dolly.”
Dahlia flinched, her eyes widening at the venom in my words. The nickname I’d given her all those years ago tasted bitter as it left my lips, and even though I knew I sounded like an angry, jealous woman, I couldn’t stop myself. I was fed up with this situation.
“Olive,” Dahlia called softly, but I intentionally ignored her, not wanting to see the pity in her eyes. “You know Gio loves you, don’t you?”
Of course, I knew that, logically.
He wouldn’t have married me or spent the last year of his life with me, begging me to stay when I was on the verge of leaving, if he didn’t love me. Everything he had said and done indicated his love for me, and deep down, I knew it.
But deep down wasn’t enough. I loved him so much it hurt, yet every night I lay alone in bed, waiting for him to come back, my heart shattered with each tender touch he bestowed upon her, whether intentional or not.
His priority was the well-being of the baby, and that meant keeping Elena happy. I understood that. I could comprehend it.
But it didn’t mean I had to accept it.
It didn’t mean that I wasn’t tormented every time she ended up in his arms, no matter how much I tried to intervene. Excuses could only go so far, and even if I warned her or him, it never made a difference.
His heart had softened toward her because of the baby, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he was falling for her because of it.
Jealousy and insecurity tore my heart apart, eroding the trust and kindness that Gio claimed to love about me, leaving only bitterness in their wake.
That’s why I sat here in the shade, hiding in the shadows while they strolled around the garden. That’s why I was consuming vodka far too strong for me at two o’clock in the afternoon, glaring at my husband and the surrogate carrying our baby as if they were possessed by the devil, instead of engaging in a normal conversation like the mature adult I pretended to be.
He loved me. It was easy for Dahlia to say, attempting to comfort me with soothing words, but I couldn’t force a smile and believe it anymore.
My eyes narrowed as Elena stumbled forward, and Giovani’s arms enveloped her, preventing her from falling. She gazed up at him, a radiant smile on her face, and though I couldn’t see his expression from this angle, I could only imagine him smiling back.
Just like he used to do with me.
I snorted, grabbing my cup and finishing off the vodka before slamming it down forcefully. The table shook, and Dahlia startled, her features displaying surprise. She looked at me, concern etched on her face, but the vodka had done its job of numbing me.
“Tell him that,” I snapped indignantly before rising to my feet and walking away.
I didn’t turn back, even as Dahlia called my name.
The chasm between us grew wider.
*Olivia*
Fuses sizzled behind my eyes, and my whole body visibly shook as I practically threw my paintbrush at the canvas. The paint of mixed reds and purples splashed across my cheeks, but I didn’t care.
I felt like a woman on a warpath as I took every stupid emotion I had and slapped it onto the stretched-out piece of textile. The table underneath had already taken some battle damage from the aftershock as each explosion of color spilled over. If I lifted up the canvas, there would no doubt be an imprint from where it had been lying.
My painting wasn’t even good—just a mishmash of colors thrown everywhere, lights and darks competing on either corner, spreading and stretching. If you looked closely, maybe you could see a face in the middle, but otherwise, it was just blobs.
My fingers trembled as I held the old brush in my hand. It was falling apart due to being left in paint cleaner too many times, but it did the job.
I dipped into the black a little too harshly, the whole palette sitting next to me tipping over and crashing onto the floor.
“Fuck!” I cried, falling to my knees as I peeled the palette from the hardwood floor. The paint smeared together on the floor in a dark color that I couldn’t even name.
It would stain.
My arms and hands were covered in harsh colors, clashing together in an ugly way, and I couldn’t help but think that if my mom had seen the piece I had just created, or if anyone saw it, what would they think of me?
My heart was broken down and thrown at the canvas like bombs raining down on a city. I had finally exploded, coating everything in the ugly shade of color that I was.
I gripped the palette in my hands, my body trembling, and as my eyes went blurred up until all I could see were vague shapes, I wondered why there was paint dripping onto the palette.
I hung my head, sitting on the floor of the art studio Gio had gifted to me, shame coating my fingers, and despite the bottles of paint I had left open and sprawled across the table, everything was just a dull shade of gray to me now.
It took longer than I wanted to admit to pick myself up off the floor and attempt to clean up. It was soothing in a way, the simple movements of sealing the paint back up, cleaning the spills, and dropping my brushes into the paint cleaner, even though I knew they would probably stay there overnight and ruin them again.
I was right—the floor was going to be stained. But so was the table. Not even elbow grease could remove the splatters, and the more I tried to erase them, the uglier they became. Eventually, I had to give up.
The paint had dried up and down my hands and arms, feeling like plaster coating them as I trudged back to the room I shared with my husband. The frustration and hurt had faded away to exhaustion, leaving me empty inside.
And maybe, if my day ended there, I could’ve curled up in bed and drifted away. I could’ve picked up the pieces of myself with the morning and gone on pretending like nothing was wrong. Those feelings would still be there, but I would be okay.
But things didn’t always go as I planned.
I halted in the doorway to my bedroom, glancing at the long-legged figure sprawled out across the bed. His legs hung off the edge, and the only reason I knew he was still alive was the way his chest rose and fell in rhythm.
It was late, and I wasn’t in the mood for another fight. He insisted he was just trying to protect our baby when I saw something else between him and Elena.
I stepped quietly inside, heading to the closet as I picked out some comfortable clothes. I heard the shifting behind me on the bed, and I could practically feel his eyes boring into me.
“Where were you?”
His voice was quiet but rough, accusing.
I bristled like an animal under attack.
“Painting.”
“Dahlia told me you ran off today.”
“And?” I said, my voice like ice as I plucked one of my many shirts from the closet, turning around to face my husband with a bundle of clothes in my arms. Flakes of dried paint were already beginning to peel off and fall to the ground like glitter.
He sent me an irritated look. “I’m not in the mood for games today, Olivia. Dahlia chewed me out, and then I had to stop her from verbally assaulting our guest! What the fuck did you say to her? I had to send Elena back in tears!”
Whatever he should’ve said, it wasn’t that.
“Sorry then,” I sneered, my body tensing up as my anger boiled over the top and overflowed. “I didn’t mean to ruin your date.”
I pivoted on my heel, not even listening anymore as I stormed to the bathroom.
