HIS CHUBBY STEPDAUGHTER
“What is going through that pretty head of yours?”
He pulled me against him. My side pressed into his body, but my arms stayed locked over my chest. Tears kept coming, quiet ones, I tried hard not to let out any sound.
“The coffee is right there,” he said, mouth near my hair. “I haven’t taken a sip. Wanting a clear head is not the same as choosing someone over you.”
I stared at the front of his shirt. “But you walked in here and called me Chela. Not kitten, not princess. Just Chela.”