Happily Letter After by Vi Keeland

CHAPTER 22

SADIE

“I love this little dip.”

Sebastian ran his finger up and down the arch between my lower back and the top of my ass as I lay on my stomach. We’d just ravaged each other, yet the slightest touch of his finger on my back had me already wanting him again.

“Oh yeah?”

He nodded. “Would it be too much if I poured the soup I brought with lunch and drank it out of there?”

I laughed. “Well, it might be hot, and I don’t think you would be drinking it out of the dip in my back, more like lapping like a dog.”

“Sweetheart, that soup is ice-cold by now. And lapping at you sounds absolutely fucking perfect.”

He was definitely right about the soup not being hot anymore. Now I was glad that I’d told my office I needed to take a half day for a fake doctor’s appointment. We’d been at it for close to two hours already, and the Chinese food that Sebastian had brought hadn’t even made it out of the bag.

As if that thought reminded my body that it had skipped breakfast, my stomach growled . . . loudly.

Sebastian chuckled. “I guess that’s one way of you telling me I should feed you.”

“I’m actually starving. I usually eat a bar in the morning on the train, but some guy bumped into me and it fell on the floor after one bite.”

“Why don’t I go heat the food up, then?”

“Okay.”

Sebastian got out of bed. He bent to grab his jeans, giving me a spectacular view of his very taut ass.

“Wait!”

He froze with one leg in the pants and turned to look at me.

“Don’t get dressed,” I said.

He flashed a crooked smile. “You want to eat naked?”

“Yeah. I do. Would it gross you out if I said I wanted to eat naked in bed with you?”

Sebastian chuckled. “No. But it might make me propose.”

He kicked back off the pants leg and strutted out to the kitchen buck naked.

What a view.I sighed. Feeling content, I adjusted the blankets and pillows to sit up against the headboard.

A few minutes later, Sebastian returned with three containers and two sets of chopsticks. He climbed back into bed and passed me one of the cartons, then unwrapped the wooden chopsticks and snapped them apart before offering them to me.

“Thank you.”

His eye dropped down to my exposed breasts and he shook his head. “Best fucking lunch ever.”

I stuffed my face with Szechuan shrimp. “Mm. This is good. Where did you get it?”

“This little takeout place two blocks from me.”

“I’m very picky about Chinese food. It’s probably because I’m part Chinese.”

Sebastian was midswallow and started to cough. “You’re Chinese?”

“Four percent. I did one of those 23andMe DNA tests to find out my heritage two years ago, since I’m adopted. I’m sixty percent Italian, thirty-six percent Norwegian, and four percent Chinese. Ever since I found that out, I feel like I got better with chopsticks.”

He laughed. “Interesting. My daughter is obsessed with those damn commercials ever since she made a family tree at school.”

“I totally forgot about that! She told Santa she wanted one of those in her early letters.”

Sebastian shook his head.

“What about you? What nationality are you?”

“My grandparents were from Sicily on my dad’s side, and my mother was Welsh.” Sebastian fished a piece of sesame chicken from his cardboard container and went to put it into his mouth. Halfway there, he fumbled, and the chicken landed on his abs. He picked it off using his chopsticks. “Must be because I’m not four percent Chinese.”

I smiled. “Do you sing in the shower?”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “That’s an odd question to ask.”

I shrugged. “Maybe. But I think people’s shower habits tell a lot about them. Like if you’re in and out in five minutes, racing through the washing to get done, or whether you take your time and use your shampoo bottle as a mic when the mood strikes.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever used the shampoo bottle as a microphone. But I definitely whistle sometimes.” His face fell. “At least I used to.”

I set my container on the nightstand and then plucked Sebastian’s from his hands and placed his lunch next to mine. Crawling over, I straddled his lap. “I think we can get you back to whistling in the shower.”

He brushed hair from my face. “I think so, too. You make me feel happier than I have in a long time, Gretchen.”

I rubbed my nose with his. “Danke.”

It was another half hour before Sebastian and I got back to the Chinese food. We were just destined to eat it cold. But I couldn’t care less. Playing cowgirl on my handsome boyfriend’s lap beat warm food any day of the week.

After, we showered together, and Sebastian had to get ready to leave for the restaurant.

“What are you doing tonight?” He kissed the top of my head while I sat at my vanity brushing out my wet hair. “Any plans?”

“Actually, I have a hot date.”

I watched Sebastian’s face fall in the mirror. Shit.

“Gah! It’s not what you’re thinking. I meant I was going out to dinner with my dad.”

He squinted at my reflection in the mirror. “Not funny. Considering your job.”

I stood and pushed up on my tippy-toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. “Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

He finished buttoning his shirt. “Where are you going for dinner?”

“I’m not sure. We usually decide when he gets here.”

“Why don’t you come to the restaurant?”

I blinked a few times. “Really? You wouldn’t mind meeting my dad?”

Sebastian shrugged. “Why would I mind? You’re already one of my daughter’s favorite people.”

Warmth spread throughout my chest. Being with a mature man really made the men I’d dated over the last—oh, I don’t know—ten years seem like such little boys. Sebastian wasn’t afraid to meet my family and had welcomed me into his once he gave in to his feelings.

“I’d love that. I’ll have to see if Dad already had his heart set on something else. But maybe we’ll come.”

“Sounds good.”

I walked Sebastian to the door. “Thanks for . . . lunch.”

He kissed me one more time, then grazed his thumb along my bottom lip. “Thanks for not giving up on me when you probably should’ve.”

“So you’re serious about this guy?”

Dad picked up the folded napkin from the table and shook it out, laying it across his lap.

I looked over his shoulder. Sebastian had just gone to get us a bottle of wine from the bar. He winked from the other side of the room when he caught me watching him. I smiled and sighed. “I’m crazy about him, Dad.”

“Then I guess I better get to know the fellow a little bit.”

On the way to the restaurant, I’d filled Dad in on some of the story behind Sebastian and my getting together. He hadn’t actually said much, so I wasn’t sure what he was thinking. But that was Dad’s way. Sometimes I would swear he wasn’t even paying attention when I talked. Then a few weeks later, he’d surprise me by asking a follow-up question to some minor thing I’d casually mentioned. Dad was a listener more than a talker.

Sebastian came back with a bottle of merlot and opened it table-side.

Dad glanced around. “It’s pretty busy. Think you’ll have time to join us? I’d like to get to know the man who my daughter is spending time with. How old are you?”

“Dad,” I scolded. “Sebastian is working.”

Sebastian waved me off with an easy smile. “I’m just going to check on things in the kitchen and put in an order for you, and then I should have some time.” He turned to my dad. “Is there anything you don’t like to eat or are allergic to?”

My dad patted the little belly he’d developed over the last few years. “Does it look like there’s much I don’t eat?”

“Okay. Give me about ten minutes. When I come back, I’m all yours to interrogate, sir.”

My father seemed to like that response, but I was embarrassed. As soon as Sebastian walked away, I said, “Dad, what the heck?”

“What?”

“Sebastian invited us here and is going out of his way and you say, ‘Hey, nice to meet you . . . how old are you?’ What does it matter how old he is?”

“You said you’re crazy about him. So I want to get to know the man.”

“There’s a difference between getting to know someone and being rude.”

Dad took a breadstick from the center of the table and broke it in two. “You’re involved with a man with a lot of baggage. A widower, a ten-year-old daughter, running this place . . . I read eighty percent of all restaurants fail within five years. I’m just concerned, sweetheart.”

I sighed. I suppose it was only natural for a parent to be concerned about his daughter dating a man who’d already been married, especially one with a daughter. It made sense that he would see Sebastian’s daughter as baggage, though I was certain that would change when he met Birdie.

“Okay. I get it. Just . . . be nice about it, please. Go slow.”

Fifteen minutes later, Sebastian appeared at our table balancing four different plates. He set them down and then took a seat himself.

“We make the mozzarella fresh daily. It’s our best-selling appetizer.” He pointed to the other plates one at a time. “I also brought out salami-and-fig crostini with ricotta, homemade rice balls, and mini eggplant rollatine.”

Not only did everything smell good but the presentation was gorgeous . . . drizzled dressing and decorative garnishes almost made it too pretty to eat. “Wow. Everything looks amazing.”

Sebastian smiled. “I can’t take credit for it. It’s all the chef’s doing. Though I might’ve threatened to fire him if these plates weren’t perfect.”

The three of us dug in, and Sebastian took my father head-on.

“So, Mr. Bisset, to get back to your question, I’m thirty-six, seven years older than your daughter. I married my college sweetheart at twenty-three and she passed away four years ago. My daughter, Birdie, is ten. I own a brownstone on the Upper West Side but only live in part of it. I rent the other half, even though I don’t have to because the restaurant actually does quite well, but my daughter and I don’t need all the space.”

My father smiled sadly. “I’m sorry about your loss.”

“Thank you.”

“Pretty big coincidence that you and my daughter both lost someone to the exact same type of cancer.”

Sebastian nodded. “I’m sorry about your loss, too, Mr. Bisset.”

“It’s George, please.”

Sebastian looked over at me. “But yeah, there are a lot of things that Sadie and I have in common. I think that’s one of the things that made us grow close so easily.” He extended his hand for me to take, and I happily clasped mine with his.

My dad smiled. “Do you want more children?”

“Dad, isn’t that a little personal? Sebastian is being so open, but I think that’s taking it a little far.”

Sebastian squeezed my hand. “It’s fine. I guess I always assumed more kids weren’t in the cards for me. Amanda got sick when Birdie was only four and a half, and I figured that part of my life was done. I have my daughter, and I’m grateful for that.” Sebastian smiled at me. “But I’m not opposed to having more kids. I think I’d actually like it. Birdie would be thrilled, that’s for sure.”

Oh wow. I was excited to hear that Sebastian was open to having more kids. Family was important to me, and I’d always dreamed of having a big one.

My dad nodded. “Thank you for your candor, son.”

After that, the three of us fell into easier, light conversation. My dad and Sebastian figured out they both loved fly-fishing and playing poker. Since neither appealed to me, but watching these two men bond fascinated me more than anything, I happily stuffed my face and listened. At one point, a waiter came over and told Sebastian that he was needed in the kitchen.

I leaned forward in my seat after Sebastian excused himself. “Satisfied you won’t get denied grandkids?” I said.

My father reached across the table and took my hand. “Sweetheart, if you married a man with a kid, that kid would be my grandchild, no different from if you birthed your own. It’s not about what I want. You’ve always wanted a big family, and your mother and I couldn’t give that to you. I only want what you want.”

I’d seriously hit the jackpot when it came to parents. I stood and walked over to my dad’s side of the table to plant a kiss on his cheek.

“What was that for?” Dad smiled.

“Just for being you, Dad.”

“Thank you for being such a good sport tonight.”

After a three-hour dinner at the restaurant, Dad went home, and I hung around the restaurant waiting for Sebastian to finish up. Then he talked me into coming home with him for a little while.

We sat down on the couch, and Sebastian pulled off my shoes. He lifted my feet onto his lap and began to rub. When he dug his thumbs into the arch, I let out a little mewl.

“Oh my God. That feels so good. But you were the one up and down all night and on your feet. I should be the one giving you the foot massage.”

He smiled. “My feet are fine. You get the massage just for wearing those sexy heels tonight. And your dad is great. The apple didn’t fall far.”

“He is pretty great. But I’m sorry he got so personal. He’s never actually done that before.”

“Did he meet a lot of the men you went out with?”

“Not too many, but a few. He’s only ever made small talk with the ones he’s met before. It’s really unlike him to be so meddlesome.”

Sebastian shrugged. “I’m sure hearing I’ve been married and have a daughter gave him reason for concern. Can’t say I blame him. It’s hard to even imagine a day when I couldn’t protect my daughter anymore.”

“I guess. Though I don’t think it really had anything to do with you having been married or there being a Birdie.”

“No?”

“I think he just saw something he’d never seen with me before.”

“What’s that?”

I bit my lip, thinking maybe I’d said too much. Sebastian noticed and stopped rubbing my foot.

“Talk to me. What is it?”

I shook my head. “Nothing bad. I think he just . . . saw the possibility of a future for me with someone.”

Sebastian’s eyes looked back and forth between mine. “Smart man. I see the same thing. There’s a future here, sweetheart.”

A future here.

Sweetheart.

I let his words seep through me, enjoying the warmth in my chest that spread to my fingertips and toes. A huge smile spread across my face.

Sebastian crooked one finger at me. “Come here, smiley.”

I sat up and inched closer to him on the couch.

He cupped both of my cheeks, and his eyes roamed my face for a long time before he sealed his lips over mine. Emotions bubbled to the surface as we kissed. I started to get lost in the moment. Until a voice snapped us both back to reality.

“Daddy . . .”

“I better get going.”

Birdie had woken up from a noise outside her window, and she’d caught us making out on the couch. If it had bothered her, she definitely hid it well. Sebastian bribed her with a cookie to go back to bed, and she asked if I would tuck her in, which I did.

Sebastian groaned. “I hate this.”

“Me too. But we have to set an example for her.”

“Can’t we just sneak you out before she gets up?”

I pushed up on my toes and planted a kiss on his lips. “She’s a smart girl. I don’t think it would take too long for her to figure things out.”

Sebastian hung his head and pouted. “Fine. I’ll call the damn Uber.”

“Thank you.”

“But I want a night, a whole one. One where I get to fall asleep with you in my arms and wake up and roll over and slip inside you. I’m going to ask Magdalene if she can stay over one night soon.”

I smiled. “I like the sound of that.”

A few minutes later, the Uber arrived and Sebastian opened the door. “Hey,” he said, grabbing my hand as I went to walk out.

I backed up. “Yeah?”

“I’m crazy about you.”

My insides melted to a pile of mush. “I’m crazy about you, too.”