Filed to story: Submitting to My Bestie’s Daddy Read Online >>???
“Nobody has to say it. I know that’s what everybody thinks. Nobody understands me.”
I raked my hand through my hair and tried to hold back a laugh. It was such a cliche thing for her to say, but I knew laughing at her wouldn’t make her feel any better. I wondered why teenagers were so determined to believe that no adults had ever been in their shoes before.
“Alright, I might not understand you, but I happen to be pretty damn good at understanding schoolwork. Pull it out and I’ll help you. Wouldn’t it feel good to get it all done before your mom gets home? You know it would make her happy.”
She rolled her eyes, but she reached out her hand and took her backpack from me. I didn’t let myself get too caught up in my victory. I knew from experience that just as quickly as she might settle down, she would also flare up again.
“Let’s go sit at the table downstairs and I’ll make us something to eat,” I said, turning back around.
In the kitchen, I pulled out a box of mac and cheese and got some water boiling. It didn’t seem like that long ago when I’d taught Caterina how to make mac and cheese for herself.
She’d been so cute and eager to learn back then. She never cursed at me or asked why I was at her house. She’d just been happy to see me. I sighed and hoped that version of her would come back eventually.
I didn’t mind her being a bit feisty. I knew it would serve her well in the adult world if she wasn’t a pushover, but I just wanted her to like being around me again. Lately she seemed determined to try to push me away as far as possible.
The water boiled, and I threw the noodles in as Cat spread her work out on the table.
“I just have math and science to work on today,” she said, pointing at the textbooks as if to prove to me that she was telling the truth.
“And what about English? You don’t have any make-up work to do or extra credit or anything? What are you going to do about that grade?” I tried to keep my words calm, but I knew she would feel like I was being accusatory.
“I don’t have anything! I don’t know what my teacher even wants me to do. She just hates me,” she whined.
“Alright, I know that’s not true. Tomorrow, I want you to ask your teacher what you can do about that grade, and then I’ll help you with whatever she says, okay?”
There was about a fifty percent chance she would not do what I had asked, but I was hoping she would feel more motivated if she knew I’d check on it.
Once the noodles were done boiling, I added the cheese powder and milk and butter, then mixed it all together. I made sure to add extra milk, just like Caterina liked. I put more into her bowl than mine, then brought them over to the table and joined her in staring down at her homework.
She wordlessly pulled her bowl over to herself and dug in. I was pleased to see her eating. She’d been looking too thin lately and it worried me, especially when I knew she skipped meals sometimes. I made a mental note to talk to Matilde about it.
“Alright, what have we got in math today? That’s my favorite subject,” I said cheerily, trying to lift the mood.
She glared at me for a second, then turned back to look at her worksheet. “It’s solving for multiple variables. I don’t get it.”
“Alright, well let’s go back to that for a second,” I said, pulling her notebook toward me and opening it to a random page so that I could write out some practice problems for her.
I glanced down at the page and was mildly horrified to see that she had written “CL + JT” on it multiple times… with hearts surrounding the initials. I glanced up in time to see her turn bright red when she realized what I was looking at. She snatched the notebook away from me and tore that page out, stuffing it deep into her backpack.
“Who’s JT?” I asked, amused to see her so thrown off but also terrified to think that she was old enough to have a crush on a boy.
“None of your business!” she exclaimed, her face still red.
I decided to drop it. I knew if I pressed, she would just end up storming off to her room again.
“Okay, fine. Let’s just focus on the math,” I appeased her.
We spent the rest of the evening working on equations. She seemed too distracted by the fact that I’d found out about her crush to want to fight me, which worked in my favor. We managed to get through her science and math homework without any further arguing.
For a few minutes, I felt like that sweet version of her who’d wanted to learn how to make mac and cheese had come back. Even though she had an uncanny ability to piss me off from time to time, I was reminded that she really was just a kid trying her best.
When Matilde got home and it was time for me to go, it felt like we’d reached some sort of truce, at least for the night. I stood up from the table and ruffled her hair to say goodbye. She rolled her eyes, but a small smile tugged at her mouth.
“Thank you so much for coming over!” Matilde said gratefully as I headed out.
“It’s not a problem at all,” I reassured her, and I found that I really meant it.
Our situation was definitely a little odd, but helping her take care of Caterina was a lot more rewarding than most things I did in my life. I just hoped that I was a good enough influence to help her grow out of this angry teenager phase.
*Four Years Later*
*Caterina*
I stopped in front of my mom’s front door and took a deep breath. It had been two years since I had last been inside, and it hadn’t been easy for my mom to convince me to come back for Thanksgiving this year.
She’d been guilt-tripping me for months trying to get me to agree to come home this year instead of our usual arrangement of her coming to see me, and I had finally relented. But now that I was here, about to walk in the door, I was second-guessing everything.
Now that I was older, I could look back and recognize that everyone had just been trying to help me stay on the right path as a kid, but it had been exhausting to be constantly looked after, especially by Elio.
I felt guilty when I thought of how I’d ghosted him when I first moved to college, but I knew the separation was needed. I’d been so resentful of his presence in my life that it was impossible for me to be objective about the fact that he’d been really helpful to my mom.
I knew that part of the reason my mom had wanted me to come back for Thanksgiving was so that she could force me to see Elio again. He had texted me sporadically for the past couple of years, but he’d finally given up after it became obvious that I wasn’t going to keep up my end of the relationship. That still never stopped him from sending me a birthday card every year, which only made me feel worse about my behavior.
I took one more breath, grabbed the doorknob, and walked in. As if my very thoughts had summoned the man, Elio was crouched underneath our dining room table with some tools, tightening one of the legs that had come loose.
He had hung his dress shirt over one of the dining room chairs so that all he wore was a white tank top with his work slacks. The muscles in his arms tensed as he tightened a screw, and I found myself staring at his hands and forearms as he worked.
What the hell? Was I seriously looking at him like that?
He turned his head slightly to get a better look at whatever he was doing, and I saw that he had grown out his facial hair to be a slight stubble.
Yep, I was definitely looking at him like that.
Finally, he noticed me standing there gawking at him. His eyes widened and he quickly came out from under the table, arms held wide for a hug.
“Caterina! You’re back!” he exclaimed before wrapping me up in his muscular arms.
I returned the hug, still too shocked by my feelings toward him to say anything. His body felt amazing pressed against mine, and I had no idea how to feel about that fact.
He gripped my shoulders so that he could pull back from me and get a look at my face.
“Wow, you’re beautiful,” he said, then immediately let go of me.
I knew I was blushing profusely, but I tried desperately to play it cool. “Um, hey, how’s it going?” I asked, feeling like an idiot.
He looked like he was feeling as uncomfortable as I was now that he’d gotten a good look at me. Was it possible he was feeling the same way about me as I was about him?
No, surely, he wasn’t.
He probably saw me as the same stupid kid who’d left here a couple of years ago.
“Oh, you know, just working,” he said, raising his hand to the back of his neck in a way that made his bicep bulge.
Damn, what was wrong with me? Why was I noticing his biceps? And his beard stubble? And the way his tank top had ridden up slightly, revealing an inch of his chiseled stomach just above his waistband?
