Under His Eye: Falling for Stepdaddy
Marley Quinn
Under His Eye: Falling for Stepdaddy
by Marley Quinn
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Under His Eye: Falling for Stepdaddy
by Marley Quinn
© 2025 Marley Quinn
All rights reserved.
Author: Marley Quinn
Contact details: marleyquinn.reformist760@passinbox.com
Book cover, illustration: Marley Quinn
Editing, proofreading: Marley Quinn
This e-book, including its portions, is protected by copyright and may not be reproduced, resold, or redistributed without the permission of the author.
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Table of Contents
Copyright Information
Table of Contents
Bombshell
Gentleman Caller
Very Festive
Tossing and Turning
Wedding Prep
Rehearsal
Tripping
Dress-up
Undertow
Cooldown
Harlot!
Yes, Daddy
Just Desserts
Soaking Wet
Slipping
Working Up an Appetite
Fiery and Sweet
Fresh Air
Burning With Curiosity
Private Doctor
My Bed
Beat the Heat
Wild Pony
Wet and Willing
Rubbing Off
Planting
I’m Always Watching
Mistress
Vitamin D
Si, Si, Si
Empty Calories
A Proper Welcome Home
Night Out
Our Little Secret
An Independent Woman
Stew
Animal
Trip
Angel
Demon
Refugee
Comfort
Invalid
All the Cards
Heel
Caliente
A Taste of My Sugar
Little Comfort
Committed
Juice
Harmless
The Perfect Symbol
Glory and Majesty
His Love
Also by Marley Quinn
Bombshell
I was up late studying when I got a call from my cousin Susan.
"Is everything all right?" I said when I answered.
"What? Sure, sure," said Susan. "Henry just went down for a nap, so I thought you might be up for a chat."
"It's just that it's after midnight, Suze," I told her. "And I'm facing down a brutal week of finals. I had no idea college was going to be this difficult."
"Oops!" said Susan. "Sometimes I forget about the time difference. Anyway, no big deal. We can talk later."
I sighed. I knew I should keep hitting the books, but even something as mundane as a conversation with my stay-at-home mom cousin was a welcome distraction at that point.
"Nah," I said, leaning back in my chair. "I could use a break. So, what's up?"
We proceeded to chat about the usual things, including how I was getting along at Crestwood and hearing about Henry making progress on things like learning to sit up and occasionally letting his poor mother get to sleep through the night. But then Susan dropped a bombshell on me.
"Hey, so what do you think about your mother's new friend?" said Susan. "Pretty exciting, right?"
"Huh?" I said. "What are you talking about?"
"Oh my goodness, I thought you knew," said Susan. "Your mom has apparently met a... how did she call it? Oh yeah, a gentleman caller. I hear he's really handsome, too."
I honestly couldn't believe my ears. Ever since my father died when I was six, my mother had remained stubbornly single. She'd always claimed that his love for her was all that she needed.
"Are you serious?" I said. "Maybe it's someone from her book club and people are misinterpreting things. You know how people love to gossip."
"Yeah, maybe," said Susan. "But I doubt there are many billionaire members of her book club."
"Billionaire?" I said, letting my chair slam back down on all four feet. "What are you talking about?"
"Yeah, his name is Malcolm. Malcolm Kent," said Susan. "He founded Global Synergy Solutions, although I'm not sure if he's still running the company anymore. Either way, he's loaded. You should Google him."
"Oh, I definitely will," I said. "But how did my mother meet him? And what is she doing with a guy like that?"
"I don't know," said Susan. "But I heard he took her off to Los Angeles last weekend on his private plane. And Uncle Bill said he's been sending loads of flowers to the house. I really can't believe your mother hasn't mentioned this."
"Well, she hasn't," I said. "I called her a couple of days ago, and all we talked about was how she was considering putting some tulips in the front garden. You know, the usual stuff. Are you sure people aren't just making things up? People in small towns like to make a mountain out of a molehill. You know that."
"That's true," said Susan with a chuckle. "But cousin Greg drove your mom to the airport. That's how I know about the private plane stuff. And, of course, Uncle Bill was delighted to be getting in so many orders for his flower shop. I was actually hoping you could fill me in on the details."
"All I can tell you is that I'm flabbergasted," I said, quite truthfully. "I didn't think my mother had her eye on anyone, much less this Malcolm guy or whatever. If it wasn't so late, I'd call her right now because I definitely have to get to the bottom of this!"
"Ooh, I can't wait," said Susan. "Promise to call me back and fill me in on all the juicy details once you know?"
"Sure," I said with a little laugh. "But I really doubt anything is going on. I mean, why would a rich business mogul even be in a town like ours, much less want to date my mother?"
"Hey! Your mother looks great for a woman her age," said Susan.
"Oh, of course. I definitely agree," I said, nodding. "But none of this makes any sense. You might as well have called me and told me my mom's an astronaut now or something."
"I just think it's exciting," said Susan. "I mean, of course I understand it was sad when your dad passed. That was a shock for all of us. But it's been more than a decade, you know? A woman has needs!"
"Suzie, you goose," I said with a little laugh. "I think you're doing a bit of projection, dear. You keep popping out those babies, so I know your needs are being met."
"Ain't that the truth," said Susan with a little chuckle. "Jason is as randy as a goat whenever he comes back from deployment."
"Ugh, too much information, girl. But yeah, I'm definitely gonna find out what's going on," I said. "I don't know. I guess I just never pictured my mom with anyone else. And all this talk of jetting off to Los Angeles? It's so unlike her."
"All right, Ally, I guess we'll find out," said Susan. "But you promise you'll let me know, yeah?"
"Of course, of course," I told her. "And give all my love to the boys. Talk to you soon. Bye."
After I hung up, I sat there for a long moment, stunned by everything I had just heard. My mother was only in her late 40s, so it wasn't like she was some senior citizen or anything, but I guess I'd always pictured her as a sweet old lady, puttering around in her garden and knitting by the fire, not plunging into a whirlwind romance the moment I went off to college.
For a minute there, despite the lateness of the hour, I considered calling her. But then, with a sigh, I set my phone aside and got back to my books.
Little did I know then just how much that phone call was going to drastically alter the course of my entire life.
Gentleman Caller
I tried calling my mother a few times over the next several days, but it always went to voicemail.
Just when I was starting to get really worried, I received a text from her, saying she was busy. Of course, I was burning with curiosity to know what she was up to, but the truth is that I was pretty slammed with all my exams, so it wasn't until almost a week later when we finally got to talk.
"Mom, finally!" I exclaimed when she picked up. "I was starting to worry you'd been kidnapped or something."
"What?" said my mother. "Don't be silly, Allison. I sent you a text. Didn't you get it?"
"Yes, of course," I said. "But Mom, come on. It's not like you to not answer my calls. I think this is the longest we've ever gone without speaking."
"Oh, no need to make such a fuss," said my mother. "I told you, dear, I've been busy lately. We've been doing rehearsals for the church nativity play, and then Margaret took a tumble on an icy patch of sidewalk in front of her house, so I went to visit her at the hospital."
"Really, Mom? That's it?" I said, scarcely able to believe what I was hearing. "That's what's been keeping you busy?"
"Well, there was a bit of a kerfuffle at the last HOA meeting," said my mother. "That immigrant couple on Maple Street painted the front of their house bright red, and a lot of folks were quite up in arms about it."
"Mom!" I said, chiding myself for losing my temper. "I talked to Cousin Susan. She told me you're dating someone. Is that true?"
"Oh dear," said my mother with a little chuckle. "She always did like to talk, that one. I remember when she was just a little girl in pigtails, and she'd come wandering into the kitchen to tell me one of those silly stories she liked to make up about princesses and unicorns."
"Mom, come on!" I said, my voice coming out almost as a moan. "Why are you being so evasive? Are you dating someone or not?"
"Well..." said my mother. "I have been spending time with a friend, yes."
"And why am I only finding this out from Susan?" I said. "This is a big deal. I mean, you always said Dad's love was all you would ever need."
"Don't take that tone with me, young lady," said my mother. "I am perfectly capable of handling my own affairs, thank you very much. But yes, a lovely man has been escorting me to dinner lately. I don't see any issue with that."
"No, Mom, I think it's great," I said. "I just wish you would've told me. That's all."
"Well, I didn't want to say anything until I was sure there was something worth mentioning," said my mother.
"And is it true that he's a billionaire?" I said.
"Billionaire?" said my mother with a little chuckle. "My, Susan sure can be dramatic. I'd say that Malcolm is doing comfortably, yes, but let's not get carried away."
"A-ha!" I said. "So it is true. You're dating Malcolm Kent."
There was a long pause before my mom said, "Well, yes, I suppose. But I prefer to think of him as a gentleman caller. That's a more dignified term, don't you think?"
"You can call it whatever you want, Mom," I said. "All that matters to me is that you're happy. He is treating you right, yeah?"
"Of course," said my mother. "Say, when are you coming home? It feels like you've been away at college forever."
"Um, I sent you an email two weeks ago with my schedule," I said. "Christmas break starts on Monday, and my flight lands Monday evening."
"Ah, email. I get so many of those, you know?" said my mother with a little sigh. "It simply takes me ages to read them all."
"Ugh, that's because you keep turning off your spam filter," I said with a groan. "Anyway, we can talk more when I get there. I'm just glad to hear your voice and know that you're okay."
"Yes, I'll see you next Monday," said my mother. "Do you need Bill to come get you at the airport?"
"I'll handle that stuff, Mom. You just take care of yourself, okay?" I said.
"Yes, of course," said my mother. "Goodbye, dear."
"Goodbye, Mom," I said and then ended the call.
Now that I had confirmation that she was, indeed, dating Malcolm Kent, I thumbed over to my browser and began searching the internet for information on him.
Based on the first few articles I found, I discovered that he had been married three times and was indeed the co-founder of GSS. And according to one source, his net worth was estimated to be 14.7 billion dollars, a sum so large that I couldn't wrap my mind around it.
What really struck me, however, were all the photos of him. He was definitely a handsome guy, and it seemed like the older he got, the more handsome he became.
With a full head of silver and black hair mixed with his penchant for wearing elegant, well-cut suits, I could definitely see why my mother would be attracted to him, even if there was something slightly unnerving about the intensity of his gaze, almost like he was looking straight at me through the screen.
The real question, however, was what Malcolm Kent saw in my mother. She looked great for her age and had an infectious laugh, but he was a billionaire, after all. He had his pick of ladies from around the world, so why her?
I didn't know. But I couldn't wait to get home for Christmas break to find out!
Very Festive
My flight got delayed by more than an hour because of the icy weather, so I clapped along with all the other passengers when the captain brought us in for a safe landing.
Despite the late hour, my uncle Bill was waiting for me at the gate with a big smile on his face. After swallowing me up in one of his classic bear hugs, he drove me home.
I invited him to come in and have a cup of hot chocolate, but he said other errands to run, so it was up to me to lug my suitcase up the steps.
I'd only been off to college for a few months, so I was surprised by the wave of nostalgia that hit me when I saw all the Christmas decorations, including the big wreath on the front door.
In some ways, it felt like I'd been gone for years, and that thought alone nearly caused me to start crying, which I thought was silly. But I guess that's how it is, sometimes, when you realize that you're growing up and leaving a part of your childhood behind.
I used my key to let myself in and then I spent a good minute brushing the snow off my jacket and removing my boots. After getting used to that Florida sunshine, the cold weather had hit me like a hammer even though I was wearing my thickest sweater, a handmade gift from my mom that had a goofy looking reindeer on the front, its antlers decked out with ornaments like a Christmas tree.
I was just about to call out and let my mother know I had arrived when I heard the sound of people talking coming from the living room. Curious, I slipped into a pair of fuzzy slippers and made my way over.
The first thing I saw was that the fireplace was going, an unusual but welcome sight on a winter's day like that. But what really bowled me over was seeing my mother wearing a very elegant dress.
"Ally, you're here!" said my mother, coming over to greet me. That's when I saw who she had been talking to, a man I instantly recognized - Malcolm Kent!
"Yeah, um, sorry. My flight got in late because of the weather," I said, feeling a strange warmth rise to my face as I gazed over at him.
He was standing by the fire, holding a glass in one hand, looking perfectly at ease as though he belonged there. Malcolm was dressed in an elegant dark blue suit, his hair and everything else immaculate.
"Darling, this is Malcolm. Malcolm, my daughter Allison," said my mother.
"Um, hey," I said, shocked by how nervous I felt. Why should I be the one feeling any anxiety when he was in my house?
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Allison," said Malcolm, taking my outstretched hand and lifting it to his lips. Even though the touch was brief, it sent a shiver racing down my spine. "Your mother has told me so much about you."
"Oh?" I said, absent-mindedly twisting a lock of my hair around one finger. "All good, I hope."
"Of course!" said Malcolm with a chuckle, the deep sonorous tone of his voice echoing inside of me in a way that I couldn't explain.
"Ally just finished her first semester at Crestwood University," said my mother. "She's pursuing a business degree."
"A bold choice," said Malcolm with a twinkle in his eye. "So you're an entrepreneur?"
"No, um, not yet, not quite," I stammered, chiding myself for blushing like a schoolgirl. Something about the steely intensity of his gaze was somehow putting a spell on me.
"Colorful reindeer," said Malcolm, his eyes dipping down to the front of my sweater. "Very festive."
"What? Oh yeah," I said, looking down at my chest.
All of a sudden, it went from a cherished gift to an embarrassment. The two of them were dressed so formally and there I was, looking like a discount mall employee or something. "My, uh, mom made it for me."
"Yes, I've seen how talented Emma can be with her hands," said Malcolm, shooting my mom a lascivious wink that made my heart race.
For all her talk of "gentleman callers," it was clear that their relationship had progressed quite quickly, and I just didn't know what to think of that.
"You're just in time for dinner, darling," said my mother. "Why don't you take a moment to freshen up and then join us in the darling room?"
"Oh yeah, sure," I said, forcing myself to wrest my gaze away from Malcolm as he stood there calmly, taking a sip of the amber liquid in his glass.
It was only when I was a few paces down the hallway that I realized just how warm and flustered I had become. In the bathroom, I splashed cold water on my face until I finally calmed down.
What was it about Malcolm that was having such a strong effect on me? Was it just because he was dating my mother after she'd been single for so long? Or was it because Malcolm was such a strong masculine presence, something I'd had so little experience with in recent years?
Either way, I considered dashing off to my old bedroom to change into something nicer, but then I decided that it would be more embarrassing to have to explain why I'd ditched my reindeer sweater after they'd both seen me wearing it.
Realizing I was stuck with it, I put on a brave face and then marched into the dining room, determined to be calm and collected on the outside even if I was feeling like a wreck inside.
Malcolm was sitting alone at the table, my mother in the kitchen, and he watched me impassively as I pulled out a chair and sat down.
When I looked around, I saw that all of the plates and silverware were unfamiliar, my mom's old floral pattern set replaced by elegant looking china rimmed with gold filigree that shimmered in the light of the candle in the center of the table.
A moment later, my mom bustled through the door, bearing a tray of food. As she began laying out a veritable feast, I couldn't help but notice that the glassware was new as well, including a water tumbler and a wine glass that looked almost paper thin.
Even the napkin on the side of my plate was made out of some fine brocaded material, and when I unfolded it and laid it across my lap, it almost felt like it was genuine silk.
"Here we are," said my mother as she arranged a few side dishes into position before taking her seat.
"Wow, looks great, Mom!" I said, my stomach rumbling.
After months of surviving on ramen noodles and cafeteria food, the spread before me looked irresistibly appetizing.
I was about to dig in when Malcolm cleared his throat, and then my mother smiled and said, "Let us say grace, shall we?"
Feeling like a complete fool, I set down my fork and bowed my head. With just me and my mom on our own for so many years, we'd never been the type to say grace, although we'd done it occasionally when a visitor would come over. Once again, I'd completely embarrassed myself in front of Malcolm.
"Amen," I muttered once my mother concluded her prayer, and this time I waited until the two of them began eating before going to town on the caramelized roast potatoes, one of my favorite dishes.
Trying not to look like the starving refugee I kind of was, I listened as my mother and Malcolm discussed their trip to New York City. Apparently, that's where she got all the plates and glassware that we were using.
According to Malcolm, he'd taken her to a department store on Fifth Avenue where she'd "fallen in love" with the setup they had on display, so he'd purchased the whole lot and had it shipped here to the house.
Everything was going fine until my mother stood up and went to the kitchen to bring in dessert. My belly was full, and I felt a lot more relaxed after having gotten a bit more accustomed to the idea that my mother was now dating someone.
That is why I was completely unprepared for what happened next, which was Malcolm reaching under the table and casually resting his hand on my upper thigh.
Shocked, I looked over at him, expecting some kind of explanation, but he just stared at me. At first, I was outraged, but as his hand remained exactly where it was, I felt a strange tingling sensation begin to build somewhere deep inside of me.
I had no idea what was going on, but that single incident marked the beginning of my strange and tumultuous relationship with Malcolm Kent.
Tossing and Turning
Later that night, I was tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep.
Part of it I guess was just how strange it was to be back in my old bed, which seemed like it had shrunk. But the real truth was that I couldn't stop thinking about Malcolm Kent.
What was it about him? Was it his elegance and poise? Was it that steely gaze of his and the elegant, upright way he carried himself?
Or was it that I could sense a ferocity lying just under the surface? Whatever the case, I could feel my skin burning from where he'd put my hand on my leg, and it was making me restless in a way I hadn't felt in a long time.
I guess part of the problem was that I hadn't had much luck in the boyfriend department. I'd gone off to college thinking there'd be lots of parties or other occasions to meet guys.
And in a sense, that was true. More than once a boy had come up to me with a swaggering grin on his face, making comments about how hot they thought I was. I even made out with one of those cocky rascals, but that was as far as it went.
Even if they were cute, I just didn't feel that hot spark of a deeper connection, probably because they all seemed so immature to me. I'm no stick in the mud or anything, but watching guys get wasted and crush empty beer cans on their heads just didn't do anything for me.
On the other hand, as much as I could see that Malcolm was a sophisticated man of the world, he seemed far too aggressive to be suitable for my mother.
If he were truly a gentleman, he never would've stared at my chest like that or have done something as brazen as squeeze my thigh underneath the table. That told me he was more of a playboy, the kind of guy who flitted between women, and this was completely unsuitable for my mother.
But that led to another question. Why was my mother so apparently smitten by Malcolm? Sure, the whirlwind trips to New York and the comfort of having a man by your side with money to spare must be a nice change of pace for her.
But I could sense that her feelings for him were quite deep, and that was a mystery for me. My father had been a loyal, patient man who adored his family, so why had my mother abandoned her widowhood after all these years for a rakish bachelor like Malcolm?
The more I thought about it, the more I realized that maybe my mother just couldn't see what kind of man Malcolm actually was. If she knew how he'd touched me in such an intimate way, she'd be horrified.
And if he'd done something like that to me, he was probably doing it to other women as well. Her going on a few dates with him was one thing, but if things were moving in the direction I thought they were, she needed to know what she was getting into before it was too late.
Therefore, as much as I didn't want to hurt my mother's feelings, I resolved to tell her about what Malcolm had done. She might be upset with me for a while, but in the long run, it was better that she knew now rather than later.
And with that taken care of, I rolled over and closed my eyes, satisfied that I was doing the right thing. Yet even as sleep slowly crept up on me, my last conscious thoughts were of how tingly and warm I felt inside every time I replayed the image of Malcolm looking at me as he reached over to touch me.
The next couple of days went by in a blur, visiting friends and neighbors as well as getting in some last-minute shopping. Between running errands and then having Malcolm over for dinner every night, it was a while before I finally got some alone time with my mother.
We were sitting in the living room, enjoying some tea and homemade cookies when I decided to tell her about Malcolm.
"So yeah, I know it must be weird for me to be springing that on you," I said. "But I thought you should know the truth about him."
"Oh, Allie," said my mother with an amused chuckle, not horrified at all. "That's just how Malcolm is, dear. He's very direct."
"Direct?" I spluttered. "Mom, he put his hand right on my upper thigh and gave it a squeeze. That's more than direct."
"Sweetie, I know it's been a long time since there's been a real man in the house," said my mother. "But men aren't like us. Malcolm was just letting you know that he likes you. You should be flattered."
"Flattered?" I said, scarcely able to believe what I was hearing. "Mom, if my professor at school did that, it'd be sexual harassment."
"Oh, pish-posh," said my mother with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Anyway, Malcolm isn't your professor, is he, dear? He's my friend, and I'm thrilled that he's been so warm and welcoming to my family."
"Mom, I just don't understand why you're not taking this seriously," I said, cringing inside at the whiny tone I could hear in my voice.
"What is there to take seriously?" said my mother, sipping her tea. "You're making a mountain out of a molehill."
"Okay, look," I said, deciding to switch tactics. "Let me ask you this. Are things serious between you and this Malcolm character? Or is this some kind of mid-life fling you're having?"
"My goodness, how could you ask me such a question?" said my mother, touching her chest. "I think you know I'm way too old to be involved in a fling."
"Well?" I said. "You didn't answer the question. You're saying this is serious then?"
My mother paused for a moment and then looked straight into my eyes. "Honey, I didn't want to tell you until things had been decided, but... well, Malcolm proposed to me last night."
"What?" I said, almost knocking over my teacup as I sprang to my feet. "Seriously? And what did you say?"
"I told him that I needed some time to think about it," said my mother. "I wanted him to get to know you and the rest of the family before I made my final decision."
"Oh my god," I said, my head spinning, making it hard to think. "I've only been away at college for a few months. And now you're on the verge of marrying a guy you just met? This is crazy!"
"Oh, Allie," my mother tittered, a big smile on her face. "You always were such a melodramatic child. I love your father, and I'll miss him for the rest of my days. But I deserve to have some companionship."
"I... I understand," I said, feeling faint. "But it all just seems so fast."
"Nonsense," said my mother. "Anyway, I think I'm going to say yes. Malcolm has been very good to me. He'll be good to this family. You'll see."
"Uh-huh," I said, slumping down on the sofa.
"Speaking of which, your semester ends in May, right?" said my mother.
"Um, first week of June," I muttered, still trying to get my bearings as I pictured Malcolm Kent, the billionaire, becoming my stepdad. It all just seemed so surreal.
"Wonderful!" said my mother, clapping her hands together. "I've always loved the idea of a June wedding. It'll all be so pretty, you'll see."
Even in my incapacitated state, I realized at that moment that my life was about to change forever.
Wedding Prep
Even weeks after I returned to college, I was still in shock that my mother was going to get remarried.
With my father dying so young, I only have a few personal memories of him. I remember injuring my finger somehow and crying, and then he scooped me up in those great big arms of his, and I instantly felt better. I also remember lying in bed as he read a story to me, his voice so comforting as I drifted off to sleep.
But most of what I knew about my daddy came from my mother. She always kept a picture of him prominently displayed on the mantle, and she would tell me stories about how they met and the dates they went on.
She always seemed so content with her memories of him, never once going on a date or expressing any interest in another man in my entire life, so her getting swept off her feet by Malcolm really threw me for a loop.
I can still remember the day I came back to my dorm room after class and there was a piece of mail waiting for me. Just by the ornateness of the envelope I knew what it was, and my hands were shaking badly when I opened it to discover a formal invitation to the wedding of Emma Swanson and Malcolm Kent written out in fancy handwritten calligraphy.
My mother, however, was oblivious to my concerns. She was constantly sending me pictures of cakes or flower arrangements, asking me what I thought of them. She also sent me pictures of Malcolm's estate, where the wedding was to take place, which blew my mind. Frankly, it almost looked like an English lord's manor or something, a huge ornate building surrounded by lush gardens and acres of manicured grass.
Eager to find something that might change my mother's mind, I decided to do more research on Malcolm Kent. Among other things, I discovered that he had a son named Jack who was about my age.
Jack was always grinning confidently in his pictures, but he lacked the gravitas of his father, making him come across as cocksure and arrogant. Furthermore, he was one of those guys who is good-looking and knows it, instantly marking him as an insufferable bore.
For all these reasons and more, I was finding it very hard to concentrate on my studies. I kept getting distracted in class as I imagined myself having to call Malcolm "dad," which of course was ridiculous.
I could also see myself getting stuck having to talk to his stupid son, who would probably try to impress me with his lavish lifestyle and globetrotting exploits. But a part of me was curious what it would be like to investigate all those rooms in Malcolm's estate, prying into corners and seeing what dark secrets I might uncover.
As time went on, I kept noticing all the older men on campus. With so many immature boys around, these older gentlemen stood out, dignified in their bearing and much wiser than their younger counterparts. Whether it was the dean as he gave an address or some of my professors, I couldn't help but think that we need more older men in society to lead us and guide us.
My literature professor was an excellent case study of this with short, well-kept silver hair and always dressed in a suit. His lessons were crisp and to the point, and I found myself learning quite a lot under his tutelage. Books I'd once considered impenetrable thickets of old-timey jargon became insightful explorations into the human condition.
One day, I stayed behind to ask him a question about an essay we were required to write. I'm not sure if I had given him the wrong impression from the low-cut top I was wearing or what, but he put his hand on my knee and started telling me how pretty I was.
I was quite flattered that he'd notice a lowly nobody like myself, but when he asked me out, I regretfully turned him down. As tempting as the offer was, I just didn't think I had anything to offer him - a man like that needed a sophisticated, well-read woman who was his intellectual equal.
As time went on, as much as I hated to admit it, I realized that the wedding was going to happen, so I forced myself to accept it. After all, my mother was a grown woman, and she certainly deserved to be loved. I just wish it could've been to a man more like her instead of a billionaire playboy with a string of broken marriages behind him.
Maybe I was just worrying too much, I told myself. Maybe attending such a lavish wedding with no expenses spared might turn out to be pretty cool. If nothing else, it would be a change of pace, and all of my friends were definitely going to be jealous once they saw me partying at a mansion.
But like I said, I love my mother, so if this is what made her happy, then at the end of the day, I was going to support it regardless of how I personally felt about the situation.
Before I knew it, finals were over, and it was time to head back home for the summer. But there was not going to be any chilling out and relaxing by the pool because I would only have just enough time to get my bridesmaid dress fitted and run a few last-minute errands.
The wedding, you see, was taking place just one week later.