Page 16 of Certified Pressure 3
I paid the driver, slid out of the backseat, and smoothed my skirt before walking up the path. I already had my key in my hand, and I smiled to myself because I’d never once been without one. Even when I moved into my own apartment, and after I started spending more time away than at home, they had never taken it from me. This was still my home, whether I lived here or not.
The door clicked open, and the familiar scent of vanilla candles mixed with a faint trace of my mother’s favorite perfume drifted into my nose. I stepped inside, closing the door behind me, and the sound of my heels echoed across the hardwood floors. The house looked the same as always—family pictures lined the hallway, the glass coffee table in the living room had fresh flowers sitting in the middle, and the cream leather couches were spotless like my mother kept them. Everything felt so normal that my smile grew wider.
“Daddy,” I called out, dropping my bag onto the couch as I glanced toward the kitchen. “I’m home.”
Silence answered me, but I wasn’t worried. I figured he was upstairs, so I kicked off my heels, leaving them near the couch, and started walking through the house. The sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a glow on the tan walls and the framed art my mother loved collecting from flea markets.
“Daddy,” I called again as I made my way up the stairs, my hand brushing along the smooth wooden banister. “Where you at? I got somethin’ to tell you.”
I reached the top and paused when I heard music playing faintly down the hall. A slow R&B song, the kind of music my father always liked when he was chilling. I smiled to myself, assuming he was in the bedroom, probably stretched out with a drink, just vibing in his own world.
I walked down the hall and stopped at the door, my hand resting on the knob. I was still grinning, thinking about the way his face was about to light up when I told him about Pressure. I twisted the knob and pushed the door open.
My smile froze instantly…
The music filled the room louder now, and the scene in front of me made my whole body go stiff. My father wasn’t stretched out on the bed, and he damn sure wasn’t relaxing. He was bent over, naked, with his hands gripping the hips of a woman wholooked younger than me, slamming into her like he had no care in the world.
For a moment, I couldn’t even process what I was seeing. My Chanel bag slipped a little in my hand, and I just stood there frozen, staring at my own father inside the bedroom I grew up peeking into for bedtime stories. He didn’t even notice me at first. He was too lost in what he was doing, his face twisted with pleasure, and his voice low as he groaned.
Five seconds passed before his eyes finally lifted and locked on mine.
Everything seemed to happen in slow motion then. His body jerked back, he pulled himself out of the woman, and she screamed when she realized I was standing there. She scrambled for the sheets, clutching them to her chest before she bolted toward the bathroom with her heels clutched in her hands. The sound of the door slamming shut echoed through the room, and my father was left standing there, bare and exposed, looking just as shocked as me.
My chest felt tight as I clutched my bag harder and took a step back. I couldn’t believe I had just walked in on my father like that. I had always known he was a cheater, and always suspected he was out doing his dirt when my mother wasn’t around, but I never thought he would be so bold as to bring it home.
I quickly turned away and stumbled back into the hallway, my heart racing. I didn’t even realize I had been holding my breath until I reached the living room and dropped onto the couch, pressing my hands against my face. My mind was spinning with too many thoughts at once. I wasn’t even shocked that he was with another woman, but it was the fact that I had just seen him naked. It was the fact that he had no shame doing it in the home where his family lived.
Minutes passed before I heard footsteps coming down the stairs. I lifted my head just in time to see him walking the woman out, her hair messy and her clothes wrinkled. He whispered something to her, and she nodded before rushing past me with her eyes glued to the floor.
I let out a long sigh and shook my head, my stomach twisting as I leaned back against the couch. When he came back inside, he didn’t even look embarrassed. He rubbed a hand over his head and muttered, “I’m sorry you had to see that, baby. You should’ve called first.”
I looked at him, my eyes narrowing, because that was all he had to say? He didn’t give an explanation, and he had no fucking shame. He just gave a half-assed apology like I had walked in on him watching TV too loud.
“I didn’t think I needed to,” I said slowly, my voice sharper than I meant it to be. “This is still my home, right? Or at least it’s supposed to be. Where is mama?”
He shifted on his feet, avoiding my eyes. “Your mama went to the salon. She’ll be back later.”
The way he brushed past everything made me feel sick. After being gone for weeks, I had come back ready to share good news, and to feel that sense of family I thought I still had, but instead I was met with the same darkness that had followed me my whole life. My father’s cheating wasn’t new, but it was the kind of wound that never fully healed and seeing it up close like this just reminded me of everything I had tried to escape.
I leaned back on the couch, pressing my lips together as I stared at the man who was supposed to be my first example of how a man should treat a woman. All I felt was disappointment settling heavy in my chest.
A few hours passed and I was slowly getting over the shock of walking in on my daddy with another woman.
The image still lingered in the back of my mind, but sitting with him in the living room softened it. It was awkward at first, both of us avoiding the subject like it hadn’t just happened, but the bond we had was too strong to let that moment hang between us for long. My father was the one person I had always felt I could lean on. He had a way of disarming me and made me feel like his baby girl no matter how grown I got, and that part of him was still here.
He didn’t flinch when I kept side-eyeing him like I was waiting for him to say something about what I’d seen. Instead, he poured me a drink, sat across from me, and started cracking jokes like nothing was wrong and it worked. Against my will, I laughed. I let the moment wash over me because it was easier than dwelling on the sight of him naked with another woman in the bedroom he shared with my mama.
The two of us sat for hours, the conversation flowing the way it always had when we were around each other.
The conversation circled around everything I’d missed in just a couple of weeks. Daddy told me about which neighbors had been stopping by, how the garden was starting to look rough because Mama refused to let anyone else touch her roses, and how he had been keeping himself busy with work. I updated him on Trill-Land, letting him know about the new restaurants Pressure had taken me to, the people I had met, and how different life felt when you were living in his world.
Two hours slipped by before the sound of the front door opening broke through our easy rhythm. My father’s headturned, and I followed his gaze as the clicking of heels echoed against the hardwood floors.
My mother stepped inside like she was on a runway. Her new hairstyle was sleek and sharp, the bob framing her face perfectly, and her nails flashed when they caught the light. Her perfume drifted into the room before she even reached us, the strong floral scent wrapping itself around everything. She looked good, and she knew it.
Her eyes landed on me, and surprise flickered across her face for only a second before she smoothed it away with a smile. It was a practiced smile, the one she had worn all my life, and it never fooled me. “Well,” she said, her voice warm on the surface, “this is a pleasant surprise.”
I stood up quickly, brushing my skirt down and walking toward her. The tension had been sitting on me since the moment I walked into this house, and I thought maybe hugging her would help dissolve some of it. I wrapped my arms around her, trying to bridge the gap between us, but her hug back was light and careful, more about preserving her hair and nails than connecting with me.
