Page 432 of Tormented Billionaire Romance Series

My most basic reaction, which I didn’t express, was,Do I have to?It was a bit childish on my part, but it was for a very adult sort of reason. I had promised Corinne that I would share this part of her Sundays with her because it was her father and she loved her sermons and she lovedhim.

But, what made me feel so skittish now was the context in which we’d be watching those services. Now, I would be watching Corinne’s father talk to his congregation about morally upright things — even if they weren’t puritanical, judgemental things — after spending the earlier part of Sunday morning doing things with his daughter that would make puritans’ heads do a 360 and explode. Once again, I was faced with the incompatibility of organized religion with healthy, natural attitudes about sex. It was enough to make me want to sacrifice Sunday morning sex entirely.How could I watch Corinne’s father preach after moving her spirit, so to speak, in bed?

Corinne was a lot less skittish and squeamish about the idea than I was.

“Honestly, Elijah, it’s like what I told you before about not needing to wear a suit to watch him,” she almost laughed. “No one’s going to see what you have on, and no one’s going to know what we were doing withnothingon before we tuned in. The computer won’t know. The people on the screen won’t know, including Daddy. The only ones who’ll know are you and me. And, I’m sure not telling, are you?”

I smiled a feeble kind of smile, tilted my head, and rolled my eyes a bit. What Corinne was saying was absolutely true and totally logical, and yet… For the first time in my entire life, I actually had what I’d almost call feelings ofguiltaround sex.

I realized those feelings were out of place. They were out of character for me. They had no place in my life. What I enjoyed with Corinne in bed was physical and sexual, but it was about expressing my love for her as much as it was about the raw pleasure of how our bodies felt together, and I knew it was the same for her. And the faith in which Corinne was raised, which her father preached, was about acceptance and love. That faith was part of what had made her the person that I loved. And if it was all about love, it was all good.

“No, I’m not telling,” I said. “Log on to your Dad’s sermon. Let’s watch.”

We didn’t get dressed, and we didn’t let what had gone on in my unmade sheets bother us. We just sat up in my bed, just as we were, and brought up Pastor Gordon’s service on my computer. And, we enjoyed it.

Right afterwards, I was surprised to hear from another father — my own.

Corinne stayed sitting up next to me in bed as I took the call.

“Dad, hey,” I said. “Um…wow. It’s good to hear from you. How are you and Mom doing?”

“We’re fine, son,” he said. “I wanted to ask you something. Had you by any chance made any plans for today?”

Corinne, listening next to me, was as curious as I was. “I was just going to take it easy today, Dad. Um…why?”

“Your mother wanted me to ask you if you’d like to come over for lunch. Assuming you’re free.”

Corinne and I shared a very startled look. Coming right after we’d watched and listened to her father, this was like a bolt out of the Heavens. Corinne nodded, totally on board with the idea.

“Say, Dad,” I said tentatively, “do you think it would be okay if I brought someone with me? Corinne’s here, and she’d like to come along.”

“Yes,” my father said unhesitatingly. “Bring her along, please. Your mother and I look forward to meeting her. About an hour, then?”

“Sure, give or take,” I said. “And, Dad…thanks, in advance, for asking.”

“Don’t be too long. You know how your mother is about leaving the rolls in the bun warmer.”

And, that was that. We ended the call, and Corinne’s and my Sunday plans were made. She gave my arm a squeeze, very happy about the whole turn of events. It was a feeling as welcome as it was unexpected.

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We walked in on a cozy scene in my parents’ living room. Sarah and Leo were already there, talking with Mom and Dad around the coffee table. The second we entered, all attention fell to us. I looked at Mom and saw her face already lighting up with approval. But, this Sunday still had one more surprise in store for me.

Everyone got up, and my father walked over from where he’d been sitting and came right to me. His face, lined with age, somehow looked maybe ten or twenty years older because of the smile that broke out on it. This was a smile that I was not used to seeing.Did I dare to think it? Was this actually the expression of a father both proud and happy to see his son?

The pure amazement of the hug that he gave me —a HUG from my father!— told me that was exactly what it was. At first, I couldn’t move. I could only stand there, dumbfounded, wanting to laugh but able only to gasp in wonder. With slow, jerking movements, I brought up my arms to return my father’s hug. In all my thirty-two years, I think this was the tenderest moment I’d ever had with the old man.

Patting me on the back, Dad said, “I love you, son.”

Almost choking with emotion, I answered, “I love you, too, Dad.”

I looked over at Mom. She was blinking back tears. I couldn’t blame her.

That hug was something I could have kept doing all day, but eventually, Dad and I pulled apart. He kept one arm around my shoulder and I motioned to the other miracle at my side. “Dad,” I said, “this is Corinne Gordon. Corinne, my father, Hamilton Bennett.”

My father shook Corinne’s hand warmly. “Welcome to our home, my dear.”

She blushed at him. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Sir.”

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