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Grocery Run

مؤلف: Elizabeth
last update تاريخ النشر: 2026-09-22 19:34:52

Della

Asher was still elbow-deep in the boat engine when Julian came out onto the dock holding a grocery list written in handwriting so precise it looked typed, and announced, to no one in particular, that someone needed to make a run into town before the good bakery sold out of whatever the good bakery sold out of by noon on weekends.

"I can go," Asher said, not looking up from whatever he was doing to the engine, hands black with something I didn't want to ask about. "Give me twenty minutes."
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  • I Slept With My Boyfriend’s Dad   Grocery Run

    DellaAsher was still elbow-deep in the boat engine when Julian came out onto the dock holding a grocery list written in handwriting so precise it looked typed, and announced, to no one in particular, that someone needed to make a run into town before the good bakery sold out of whatever the good bakery sold out of by noon on weekends."I can go," Asher said, not looking up from whatever he was doing to the engine, hands black with something I didn't want to ask about. "Give me twenty minutes.""You'll give it two hours and come back with the wrong bread. Again." Julian folded the list and looked at me instead, easy, like this was a perfectly ordinary thing to ask. "Della, you want to come? Better company than the alternator.""Hey," Asher said, mildly offended, still not looking up."I'm not wrong. Last time you sent him, we ended up with rye.""Rye's a valid choice.""Rye is not what was on the list, which was the actual point." Julian looked back at me, waiting, one eyebrow raised

  • I Slept With My Boyfriend’s Dad   Unease

    JulianI hadn't planned on the blanket.That was the part I kept coming back to afterward, lying awake, trying to locate the exact moment the evening had stopped being a harmless family tradition and become something I was going to have to think carefully about for the rest of the summer. I hadn't engineered it. Asher had dragged the armchair cushion over without asking, the way he'd done since he was young enough that the whole arrangement used to fit around just the two of us, and by the time I registered what was happening, I was already on the couch, already under the same blanket as Della, with six inches of space between us that felt, within minutes, considerably smaller than it should have.I told myself it meant nothing. Proximity wasn't intention. A blanket wasn't a decision. I'd sat through a hundred movie nights on that same couch with a hundred different configurations of family and guests over the years, and none of them had required this specific, deliberate discipline j

  • I Slept With My Boyfriend’s Dad   Movie Night

    DellaAsher's idea, obviously. Julian would never have suggested it on his own, I was fairly sure, but Asher had grown up with a specific ritual of movie nights in this house, apparently, some tradition from childhood that survived intact into adulthood mostly because nobody had ever bothered to kill it, and on our fourth night at the beach house he announced, with the confidence of a man reviving a beloved family custom, that we were doing one tonight."Dad picks the movie," he said, already pulling blankets down from a closet in the hallway like this was a well-rehearsed operation. "It's the rule. Has been since I was, like, ten.""What's the rule based on?" I asked."He has better taste than me. Which he'll agree with, immediately, because he's not humble about it.""I'm not humble about it because it's true," Julian said, coming in from the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn he'd apparently made without being asked, which felt like its own small, unnerving piece of information about h

  • I Slept With My Boyfriend’s Dad   A Problem I Shouldn’t Have

    JulianI hadn't slept, not really, not since dinner ended and Asher and Della retreated upstairs and the house went quiet enough that I could hear the ocean through the open window in a way I usually found comforting and tonight found unbearable.I told myself it was nothing. A long day, an unfamiliar house settling in around new voices, the ordinary static of having people under my roof for the first time all season. I gave that explanation a fair chance, lying there in the dark, and it didn't hold up past the first ten minutes, because the truth, when I finally let myself look at it directly, was considerably less comfortable than a restless first night.I'd spent most of dinner watching my son's girlfriend. Not the ordinary vetting a parent does of the person their child brings home. I'd watched the way she laughed, delayed, like she was checking herself before she let it out fully. I'd watched the particular, deliberate way she held eye contact a half-second longer than any conver

  • I Slept With My Boyfriend’s Dad   Getting to know my boyfriend’s dad

    DellaDinner went on long enough that I started to relax, which in hindsight should have been my first warning sign, because the universe has a track record of waiting exactly until I let my guard down.Julian was, infuriatingly, good company. Not in the stiff, performing-for-his-son's-girlfriend way I'd braced for, but genuinely funny, the kind of dry, understated humor that snuck up on you a full beat after he'd said something, so that I kept laughing a half-second behind Asher, playing catch-up with jokes I hadn't seen coming."So Della," he said, refilling his wine glass, not mine, I'd barely touched mine, "what are you studying? Asher's terrible at explaining what anyone does. I asked him about his own major for a solid year before I got a straight answer.""That's not fair," Asher said. "Business is broad. It's hard to summarize.""It is exactly as broad as you want it to be so you never have to commit to an answer." Julian looked back at me, waiting, entirely unbothered by his

  • I Slept With My Boyfriend’s Dad   Arrival

    Della’s POV The house came into view before Asher said anything about it, which was somehow worse than if he'd warned me. One second we were on a narrow coastal road with dune grass whipping past the windows, and the next the trees broke open onto glass and cedar and a view of the ocean that looked less like a house and more like something out of a magazine spread titled *How the Other Half Summers.*"Okay," I said. "You undersold this.""I told you it was nice.""You said 'my dad's beach house.' That phrase does not prepare a person for this."Asher laughed, downshifting as the driveway curved up toward a detached garage already holding a car I didn't recognize. "In my defense, I've been coming here since I was a kid. It stops registering as impressive after a while. It's just Dad's house.""Must be nice," I said, and meant it more than I let on."He does well for himself. Tenure track, a couple of consulting things on the side, some investments that apparently panned out better tha

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