After a few seconds she shrugs gently, “No, Miss Turner. Porn What’s wrong with you?” I spat. It somehow pains me to be disrespectful to him. It was startling warm. Accidentally then, my hand pushes the fork out of his plate. His hands drift down to my waist to hold me closer and tighter still. You have no right of being here!”
My cheeks feel hot as I keep yelling at him. She seemed to have frozen. Perhaps that’s because they didn’t live under the same roof.
A day after dad was buried, we both had a visit from his lawyer. Not ten minutes had gone by when there was another knock on the door. Of having su—” I stop myself then. What the? “I’m sorry?” he asks in a nervous/guilty tone.
My jaw drops.
