Chapter 10

I pulled out and dashed for the bathroom. I dropped to my knees and immediately started vomiting. All the booze, all of dinner came up. When I’d finished, I clutched the toilet seat.

“Dad?”

I turned to see Katie standing in the doorway. She’d put her robe back on, thankfully. Her face was filled with worry.

“Sorry!” I croaked. My stomach roiled. “Sorry!” Then I hung my head over the toilet as a little more came up.

“I’ll get you some water to rinse your mouth.”

I nodded. My head was swimming now, both from the booze and the realization of what I’d done.

I’d fucked my daughter.

No, I’d raped my daughter. I’d just taken her.

The tears started to form, but before they could fall, Katie returned. I didn’t want her to see me crying, but my breathing was still ragged. She knelt next to me and handed me a glass of water. I rinsed my mouth and spit in the toilet. Katie flushed it down.

“I’m sorry,” I repeated.

“For what?”

“For ... you know.” I couldn’t meet her eyes.

“For running off and getting sick?” She chuckled darkly. “Yeah. No woman wants that.”

“No. For ... uh ... forcing myself on you.”

“You didn’t. I could’ve stopped you.”

I sucked in my breath. “But you didn’t.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because you needed it. And I love you.”

I was so shocked, I looked up. She gave me a sheepish smile.

“And maybe I needed it, too. It’s ... complicated.”

I nodded agreement.

“You’ve had too much to drink,” she said. “Let’s get you some aspirin and get you to bed.”

I sucked in my breath.

“We’ll talk more in the morning, okay?”

“Okay.”

I awoke with my worst hangover since being arrested. My skull pounded and I did not want to open my eyes. My mouth was so cottony, they could’ve made a shirt out of it. When I rolled over, the room swam. I closed my eyes and didn’t dare open them.

Slowly the memories came back to me.

And then I wanted to puke all over again.

I’d fucked Katie. I’d fucked my daughter.

The guilt and the self-loathing hit.

How could I have done such a thing?

Except I knew exactly how. I’d been drunk. Katie looked like Caroline. If I’d propositioned a woman in a bar who looked like my wife, it wasn’t hard to imagine me screwing a naked woman who also looked like my wife.

She just hadn’t stopped me.

My brain caught on that point.

She could’ve stopped me, and she didn’t. She’d even said so.

Oh, God, this didn’t make sense.

I finally opened my eyes and spotted a glass of water and some aspirin set out on the nightstand. I snorted softly. Even after last night, Katie was taking care of me.

I sighed. As soon as the medicine kicked in, I needed to go face the music.

I found Katie in the kitchen, sitting at the table with coffee and an empty plate. She’d eaten toast and grapefruit, judging from the remains. When she saw me, she gave me a concerned smile.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like crap.”

“Did you take the aspirin?”

“Yeah. Thanks.” I shuffled to the coffee maker and poured myself a cup. Katie waited patiently until I sank into the chair across from her.

“How’s the hangover?”

“Bad.” I grimaced. “Not as bad as, well, a month ago.”

“When you got arrested.”

“Uh-huh.”

I took a sip of coffee. It was still quite hot and nearly burned my lips. Katie waited patiently. The silence grew palpable. Almost painful.

“I’m sorry,” I said at last.

“For what?”

“For last night. You know.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

I gave her a pointed look.

“I mean it. I could’ve stopped you. I didn’t. If anything, I should apologize to you.”

I leaned back in my chair, confused.

She shrugged. “I knew you were drinking.”

“That doesn’t excuse what I did.”

“What we did.”

I waved her off.

“Dad,” she said firmly. “Think about it. Please.”

I frowned.

“You could not have entered me without my consent. Didn’t you notice how wet I was?”

My chin dropped. She had been wet.

She sighed with frustration. Then she stood. “Drink your coffee. I’ll make you some toast.”

I sagged back, very confused.

I tried to sort out my thoughts as my head continued to pound. I watched Katie. She wore the same silk robe she had the night before, but without the lingerie. From the way she banged around the kitchen getting bread into the toaster, she was extremely irritated with me.

I grimaced. I’d fucked up. At least I had this morning.

“I’m sorry. For not listening to you.”

She paused and turned and looked at me.

“You’re right. I couldn’t have forced myself on you. You would’ve stopped me.”

She sighed with relief, leaned against the counter, and gave me a wry smile.

“But why didn’t you?”

She crossed her arms. “Because you needed it.”

“You said that last night.”

“Mmm hmm.”

“I don’t understand.”

She let out a long breath. “It’s complicated.”

“Try me.”

“Okay ... well, when you got arrested, it was a wake-up call. For me. I knew you weren’t over Mom, but I thought you were getting better. Instead, you were getting worse.”

“Yeah.” I couldn’t argue against that. I had gotten arrested.

“That’s when I decided to move in with you. At least for a little while. I was glad to find you weren’t as bad as I’d feared. You did mostly keep the place clean.”

I nodded agreement.

“But you weren’t taking pictures.”

“No.”

“And that used to be your life. Photography and Mom. And you didn’t have either.”

I shrugged again. “It was hard to be interested in photography without your mom.”

“I eventually figured that out.”

We fell silent for a moment, and then the toaster dinged. Katie turned to it and was soon slathering butter and jam on the toasted bread.

I used the pause to drink some more coffee and think. I had so many questions and things I didn’t understand. I eventually landed on one that was at least simple to ask.

“Why were you wet?”

She laughed. Honest-to-God laughed. She reined it in when she saw my confusion.

“I’m an exhibitionist, Dad.”

“You are?”

“I thought you’d figured that out.”

“Huh.”

“Mmm hmm. Always have been.”

“Even when you were little?”

“Well, at least since puberty.”

“Wow.” I’d known Caroline was an exhibitionist, but I’d never really paid attention to Katie. Not back when.

“And ... frankly, it’s been a while.”

“Since you...”

“Yeah.”

“So ... you realized what I was going to do and you let it happen.”

“Mmm hmm. At the time, I thought that maybe it’d kick you out of your rut. That may have been ... a bad rationalization.”

I snorted. “At least you weren’t drunk.” And thinking your daughter was your dead wife.

“That might’ve been a better excuse.”

She sighed, and then sat down across from me. She reached out her hand, and after a moment, I took it.

“I love you,” she said, “and I want you to be happy. I want to hear you whistling in your studio and excited about photoshoots. I want to see you dating. And if that means I had to let you fuck me, I’m okay with it.”

She squeezed my hand for emphasis.

I didn’t know what to say. I was floored by her admission, and her obvious love for me. My mind swirled, but in the end, I could only find a few words that made sense.