55. Email.

Cas’ pov

Motherfuckers.

I knew we should have gone with Patrick’s show, but my PR people were convinced a woman interviewing us would be better. It would reach the right audience, or whatever bullshit reason they gave.

I am the one who fucked up. I am the supposed cheater, even though we didn’t even consummate the marriage because Kennedy makes me fucking sick. Yet somehow, the blame is placed on Ripley?

Sexist bullshit.

And then to bring out her fucking mom?!

The only reason I stayed calm throughout the interview was for Ripley. She was new to this, and I needed to be her anker.

But fuck that. Fuck this whole shitshow and fuck me for thinking it was a good idea.

If Jullianna and her fucking team don’t fix this mess and edit the interview in a way where we come off as decent people, I’m going to fucking bury her and her team.

Not literally, although right now, I am pissed off enough to kill a few people.

We walked out of the study after I threatened some more people, with Ripley staring at me in a weird way. The way she usually looks at me when she’s turned on.

I smirked, “Do you like it when I’m being an asshole?”

She shrugged, “if it’s to people who deserve it, maybe I do.”

“But you like, like it. Don’t you? If I were to put my hand up your beautiful dress, and cupped your pussy, I would feel you dripping wet, wouldn’t I?”

Not even the layers of make-up Ripley was wearing could hide the blush that was creeping up on her cheeks. “Cas!”

She is so easy to tease.

“Well, since we left early, why not go get a hotel room and get rid of this tension before going home?” I offered.

Ripley seemed to think about it, but even though she was turned on, this day had taken a toll on her. It wasn’t even those stupid questions; it was mostly springing a video of her mom on her.

“I want to read her email. Get everything out now.” she said.

“Okay, then we’ll get a coffee somewhere, and you can read the email.” Was my next offer. I’d rather give her several orgasms to make her forget, but alas, my favorite girl in the world has different plans.

I’ll do it tonight, though. I’m going all out. Maybe I’ll tie her to the bed, because usually after my head has been between her legs for a while, she starts to feel bad for me and urges me to fuck her. not in those words, because Ripley would never ask like that.

She doesn’t realize how I would gladly take a bit of a sore jaw or a tongue with a muscle ache over hearing and feeling her cum. I’d spend hours licking and sucking on her sweet pussy if she let me.

Besides, giving blowjobs seems much harder. Having a whole dick shoved up your throat? Nope, I’d rather go down on a woman, specifically Ripley, any day.

“What are you thinking about? You’re making faces and moving your mouth weirdly.” Ripley said.

I may or may not have opened my mouth when thinking... It’s only natural to emanate the thing you’re thinking about, right?

I’ve seen Ripley do it when she watches a movie. It’s fucking adorable. A person on the TV makes a face or looks up, and I see her looking up too. When someone smells something bad, her little nose goes up as if she’s smelling it too. And when someone is embarrassed on screen, Ripley can’t even look at the person, holding her hands in front of her face.

“I was thinking we should head out.” I replied, not wanting to give Ripley another reason to feel bad. Knowing her, she’d probably feel guilty for denying me sex and instead reading that email.

That sweet woman of mine feels guilty about almost everything, and this fucking interview isn’t going to help her feel any better. Neither is that email, most likely. But all I can do is support her, right? What the hell do I know about serious relationships?

We sat down in a coffee shop nearby, in the back, since we were still being followed everywhere. Ripley opened her phone and began reading before she handed me the phone in silence.

“Dear Ripley,

I saw what happened to your daughters. It’s been the talk of the town. I can’t believe Oliver’s parents would do such a thing. They used to be so nice. It’s quite a scandal; everyone has been asking me about it.

Then there was something on the news about people having an auction for you? I can’t believe a child of mine is acquainted with someone so famous and influential. I’d love to meet that Cassius Hemming; I actually have a business opportunity he could benefit from. Too bad that might be impossible now that he's married that blond woman. I get why, she's beautiful.

Giles and I split up. He got into trouble with the law—nothing big, but because of his previous crimes, he might do time. So it’s just been me at the house. Your sister sometimes calls me, but you know how busy she is, and with the time difference, it’s hard to talk.

You should call me sometimes. Or just come by.

Let’s just bury the past and try to move forward. In the end, I think my decision has only helped you, not hindered you. Look at where you are now!

They say you and Cassius were an item. He cheated on his now-wife with you. You probably got that from your dad; he loved to flirt with women. Whatever the case, it’s wise to keep a man like Cassius Hemming as a friend. He can do wonders to help you, I’m sure. Just don’t get caught, is all I’m saying. You should have been more discreet. I hope at least you got something out of the affair.

I’m dying to hear what really went down; there’s all this speculation about you, and everyone is asking me for answers. I wish I knew more.

Anyway. Give me a call.

Love, mom.”

This email was sent around the time I got married. That was when I was getting drunk on a tropical island somewhere. I'm glad Ripley didn't read this email then, and I was here next to her when she did.

Her mother is a fucking bitch. Nothing about the email screamed, mom. She didn’t check on how Ripley was doing. The whole email seemed to center around her and her needs. And she didn’t mention wanting to meet her granddaughters once.

It was also clear that the video message she left was the polar opposite of the garbage she had been spewing before. The email said nothing about being ashamed. Ripley had an affair with me. The opposite, actually. She seemed more intrigued than embarrassed.

I gave the phone back and looked at Ripley. “What are you going to do?”

She shrugged her shoulders, looking sad. “I don’t know.” She said in a tiny voice.

“Do you want to call her? Or see her?” I asked.

She shook her head, “I don’t know, Cas. It’s my mom, but it’s not, though. This is not the woman who raised me. She wasn’t so self-centered back then, or maybe I didn’t see it.”

She sighed, “dad didn’t cheat or anything. He was just flirty with everyone. Loved talking to people. But he adored my mom.”

It was cute how she tried to protect her dad, even now. It proved what type of father he was.

“You didn’t cheat either. Kennedy and I were not a couple, and once you found out, you stopped. I’m the asshole here. You did nothing wrong.”

“People don’t see it that way.” She replied. Fucking Juliette and that whole fucked-up interview.

“People can go fuck themselves.” I said, pulling her chair closer to mine. I grabbed her chin to make sure she was looking at me, rubbing her chin with my thumb. “Look, Ripley. We’ve tried the interview. Maybe it works, maybe it doesn’t. But you need to stop caring what other people think. That’s one thing I learned about being a public figure. You can’t let the opinions of others stop you from doing what you want.”

I chuckled, “actually. You taught me that.”

“I did?” she asked, her lip forming a little pout that I wanted to suck into my mouth.

“Yeah. You did. And I am so much happier now that I stopped giving a fuck. I know it’s easier said than done, but you can’t control what people think.”

Ripley nodded, “you can only control how you respond to them. Not how they act.”

I shrugged, “yeah, that too.”

Ripley smiled at me, “it’s something I read. When I was dealing with my mom not wanting me in her life. You cannot control the behavior of others, but you can always choose how you respond to it. I read it on some motivational poster or something. But it stuck with me.”

"So, how do you want to respond?”

She raised an eyebrow, “aren’t you going to share your opinion on the email?”

“Do you want to know what I think, because it might be better if you don’t? There will be a lot of fucks involved, and I might call your mother a bitch. Or worse.”

Ripley laughed, and before I knew it, she had planted a big kiss on my lips. “God, I love you.”

“And I love you,” I replied, surprised that she would love me after I admitted I wanted to call her mom a bitch.

“I think I want to call her. To get closure. I’ll tell her everything I need to say, and then I'll cut her out of my life for good.” Ripley admitted.

“I support whatever you decide,” I said, even though I didn’t fully understand why she would want to talk to that woman. Maybe it was because I knew it was futile to ever tell my parents how I felt.

Or maybe because I wasn’t raised to share my feelings. Ever. Especially not to my parents.

The thought alone of yelling at my dad for all the ways he fucked up, wasn’t that far-fetched. But actually having a conversation. Like baring my fucking soul and sharing how his and my mom’s decisions hurt me. That seemed impossible. It was easier to be mad than to be honest with him.

Anger has always been my go-to. But Ripley is a better person than I am. And if she needs this for closure, then who am I to judge? She has more balls than me.

But I wasn't going to let her do this alone, though. I'd be right there beside her every step of the way.

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So this chapter is free to compensate for the mistake I made by adding the text of chapter 53 above chapter 54. Sorry again and I hope you like it!