Free Addicted to Him by Lauren Dodd Page B

made dinner. I hope that’s okay,” I say.
    “Okay? Um, yeah, it’s way better than okay.” She jogs up the stairs to change out of her dress and heels.
    “Dang, it smells good in here,” Dad says, shutting the garage door. “You cooked us dinner?”
    “You guys work so hard, I just wanted to help out a little.”
    “That’s really nice, sweetie. You’re a good girl,” he says. I can tell he’s wrestling with himself wanting to hug me, but he restrains himself knowing how I’ll react.
    His words wash over me like a brave ray of sunshine on a cloudy day. That’s all I’ve ever wanted was for someone to tell me I’m good. That I deserve good things to happen to me and that I’m worthy of being loved. Wade is the only one that has ever made me feel like I was deserving of love.
    I busy myself pulling the casserole out and setting it on hot pads on the table. I add a loaf of French bread and a stick of butter and pull out the side salads that I prepared and set them next to everyone’s plates. I stand back and survey my work, pleased that everything looks delicious. Dad and Lisa bolt downstairs in more comfortable clothes and take their seats at the table.
    “Chicken Marsala?” Lisa asks, sniffing the casserole.
    “Yep, good nose,” I say with a laugh.
    “I think Lisa was a bloodhound in a previous life,” Dad jokes.
    I serve them both a good portion of the casserole and wait eagerly for them to try the first bite before taking my own.
    I watch Lisa, in particular, since she will be the harder one to impress. She blows on the bite at the end of her fork then pops it in her mouth. I’m on the edge of my seat until she starts moaning and groaning with delight. I’m so happy I think I might bust the button on my shorts, which after this dinner I will probably do anyway.
    We enjoy a wonderful meal and talk about our day. They do most of the talking, comparing work days, while I listen on with delight. I’ve always dreamed about having dinners like these but had gotten to the point where I thought they were just a dream. Chastity and Phil rarely sit down to eat at the same time, and, if they do, it usually just results in them bitching at each other about something that one of them did or didn’t do. Nothing like the peaceful feeling of this dinner with the back and forth easy flow of conversation minus the sarcasm or derogatory names like Chastity’s dinners are famous for.
    With each day that passes I know I’m edging closer and closer into dangerous territory. I know how easily I could imagine my life being here full-time. But I couldn’t leave Wade and let’s face it, Dad was a sport taking me on for the entire summer, but full-time with no reprieve is a completely different story.
    I savor another forkful of the delicious casserole forcing myself to slow down which is the same thing I need to do with my life here. Enjoy myself now and try not to worry about what the future holds.
     
    ****
     
    The next morning I hear a horrible sound coming from the direction of Dad and Lisa’s bedroom. I peek inside the open door and see Lisa crouched over the toilet wretching with Dad gently rubbing her back.
    “Oh my God, I poisoned her,” I blurt out, unable to stop myself.
    “Cassidy, no,” Lisa shouts until an un-human amount of puke forces her head back into the toilet bowl again.
    “Sweetie, I’m not sick, and you’re not sick, so it couldn’t have been your dinner,” Dad reassures me. I run into the bathroom and pull open a drawer containing washcloths and hand towels. I pull out the softest washcloth I can find and run cold water over it. I wring it out and place it on Lisa’s forehead.
    “That feels amazing,” she says, flushing the toilet for the fourth time since I came in. She slumps against the wall. I kneel down and rub the cloth all over her face. I do this for Wade all the time and I’m always amazed at what a difference it makes. “You’re the best daughter ever,” she mumbles,