Page 2 of Savage Daddies
The list goes on.
The sliver of light under the door widens, and in walks Sammy. She stands in the doorway like she doesn’t know what to do with herself. Barry the deadbeat platypus dangles from her hand. She always holds him by the beak.
“Mommy.”
“What’s up, sweetheart? Can’t sleep?”
She nods her tiny head.
I pat a space for her on the bed, and she climbs onto the mattress to slouch next to me. The rules apply to her too. No open-mouth chewing or chipped nails, even though she’s fucking three years old. Ridiculous, if you ask me.
Not like anybody ever does.
I’m the agreeable wife who stands looking pretty next to her rich husband.
And pretty girls don’t have opinions.
I curl a piece of red hair behind Sammy’s ear. I’m glad she inherited my hair color, not Felix’s washed-out brown shade. Her eyes glow blue, not green like mine, but not brown like Felix’s either.
She looks nothing like him.
There’s a celeb-conspiracy Youtuber from England with millions of subscribers, and he posted a video fifteen months ago calling me a cheater. “Sammy looks nothing like Felix,” he said, arguing very passionately while making intense eye contact with the computer screen. “And Zoe is a very beautiful girl. She could have anyone. No offense to the guy, but there’s more attractive blokes out there that probably tickle her fancy more.”
According to the comments from the video, I’m a gold digger, and only with Felix for his money.
But no amount of money could make mewantto marry this psycho.
People on social media are creative.
And think of everythingbutthe truth.
The night before Felix and I got engaged, there was a masquerade. Teagan, my friend from high school, used to host these extravagant parties for Halloween, Christmas, Easter, etcetera, so you can imagine the hype when the celebration was one ofhers. It was her eighteenth, and she invitedeveryone.High schoolers. Mutual friends. Family friends.
Bikerfriends.
Turns out a couple of college girls were fucking middle-aged motorcyclists in their free time, and their whole entire posse turned up. Three of them ended up on my beer pong team and…well, they fucked me. Hard.
Felix might call himself Sammy’s father, and I might go along with it, but biologically, he’s not. I see more of biker number two’s eyes in Sammy every day, and I call him that because he went second. No names were shared.
Just our intense eye contact when he fucked me missionary-style on Teagan’s bed.
I remember it like it was yesterday, especially when I look into Sammy’s diamond-blue eyes. She has the same piercing look, her eyes the kind of startling blue that stops you in your tracks and makes you forget what you’re doing.
There’s no doubt about it.
I look over at Sammy. She sleeps beside me in the fetal position, tiny limbs curled up. I rise from the bed, gently scoop her up, and carry her back into her room.
1:00 AM reads the clock when I make it back to bed. Sammy’s been this way for a while now, her sleep disrupted. Sometimes it’s nightmares. Other times it’s because her heart is “beating too fast for me to relax.”
The pediatrician says she’s stressed.
A three-year-old shouldn’t be stressed.
But you know what they say about environment—it’s your biggest influence.
All five lights now charged, I unplug the vibrator and settle it between my legs.
Finally, time to escape.
