Page 94 of It Must Be Fate

“Uhhhh,” I say, laughing uncomfortably as I meet Nera’s panicked eyes. Bending so my next words are whispered against the shell of her ear, I add, “I guess we haven’t discussed how we answer that question.”

“I didn’t even think about the fact that it would come up one day,” she whispers back. “We can’t tell them I slept with my professor.”

“Or that I slept with my student. They’ll think you’re a daredevil, but they’ll thinkI’ma predator.”

She chews her lower lip, pulling my attention from the issue at hand and to her very delectable mouth. I imagine those very same lips wrapped around my cock tonight once the kids are in bed. I imagine them parted in pleasure as I sink into h—

She snaps her fingers, her eyes widening. “We met in a bar,” she offers in a whisper. “Technically not a lie, right?”

“Brilliant. Aligned.”

Nera turns towards Kiza and gives her the same answer. Thankfully, our daughter only nods thoughtfully and takes another bite of her sandwich.

I’m about to breathe a sigh of relief and sit down, when Cato speaks next.

“Daddy, what’s a MILF?”

Silence descends on the room. I freeze, certain that I’ve misheard him. Nera’s eyes bulge, her hand flying to her mouth.

Turning my head slowly towards my eldest, I try to keep a rein on the disbelief coursing through me.

“I beg your pardon?”

“What’s a MILF?” he repeats, seemingly unaware of how my eyelid twitches.

I’d rather face a hundred more questions about how his mother and I met and started dating than wondering for a moment longer about why Cato knows the existence of the word MILF.

He can only have heard it spoken in one context and that context makes me want to put my fist through a wall.

“Where did you hear that word?”

Nera’s hand tightens around mine, squeezing my palm to settle me down when she hears my throttled tone.

“Stephen’s older brother Justin said it at school the other day. When Mum came to pick us up, he said a bad word and then he said she was a ‘Hall of Fame-worthy MILF’.” He frowns and scrunches his nose, his expression confused. “What is that? Doesthat mean she’s on time for pickup? Because his mum wasn’t there yet.”

Beside me, I hear Nera choke back a laugh.

A vein throbs dangerously in my temple, my heartbeat strangled within its walls. It feels so close to bursting that I have to take deep, steadying breaths to keep from passing out.

My fist closes tightly around the back of Nera’s chair. The wood screams its distress in response.

“Tell me,” I ask, my tone pleasant. “Where does Justin live?”

Correctly interpreting my underlying tone, Nera places a hand on my forearm. “Tristan, no.”

The thought that some thirteen-year-old ogled my wife and called her aHall of Fame-worthy MILFto his friends, to myson, makes me want to reinstate the lost art of drawing and quartering people in public.

“Can you get me his address, Cato?”

“Sure, I mean, it’s where Stephen lives. So, 97 Stu—”

Nera interjects, speaking over him so I miss the street name. “That’s great, darling, thank you. Tristan, a word in the kitchen?”

She stands, forcing me to release my grip on her chair to let her pass, and walks back to the kitchen.

“Keep eating,” I instruct, following after her.

I’m on her before she’s even fully turned around, a surprised gasp ripping from her lips. Trapping her against the island, I bury my face in her neck and suck at her throat like a vampire.

---