My Dad's Bestfriend novel Chapter 40

Jacob

"Hey, man," I strolled over to Samuel, spotting him perched at the bar, the half-empty beer bottle indicating that this guy didn't bother waiting for me before taking his share. But what could I say? This was so typical of Samuel; he'd always do what he wanted and think about the consequences later.

"Well, good to see you," he said, his demeanour had returned to normal now that he knew I wasn't mad at him anymore. However, a hint of caution lingered in his eyes as he glanced at my hands, as if checking for any hidden weapons. There was a time when I had used a kitchen spoon to beat him up, leaving some significant scars that took days to fade. Of course, he hadn't let that slide. He returned the favour, with interest.

"Why all dressed up?" he asked, handing me a beer bottle. "Went somewhere?"

"Yeah, just went for a walk," I shrugged it off, finding it the easiest excuse to conjure. In reality, my mind was consumed with thoughts of undressing Evelyn, piece by piece—watching each article of clothing slide off her smooth skin. The parting of her lips, the emotions playing in her eyes, and the melodious sound of her moans—it was better than any damn music in this world.

Holy, how creamy her thighs are, how gracefully her fingrtips dance on my skin and how fucking beautiful she looks when her head falls backwards while her walls clench when I'm inside her. Fuck.

I was truly astounded by how God had created something so spectacular. She was unlike anything else... something utterly different.

Oh God, I was long gone, completely in love with her— I didn't care if it meant my damnation.

"Hello?" Samuel's hand waving in front of my face snapped me out of my daze.

"Oh, yeah?" I cleared my throat, shifting in my seat. "What were you asking?"

To my question, a frown etched itself onto his face; suspicion lingered in his eyes. "I was asking why you're all dressed up for a simple walk? That's not you. You're the kind of person who'd walk around butt naked. Truly shameless."

"Are you really giving me grief just because I ignored you yesterday?"

"Well, nope," he enunciated, the 'p' popping— no wonder where did my Evelyn learn this popping thing from. A family inheritance of a bad habit, indeed.

"I was just speaking the truth, Jacob," he continued, "The whole Italian legacy, culture, and gentlemanly habits—you're miles away from them. You're like some strange, scantily clad pimp."

Maybe, I could reconsider and actually beat him up.

"I might let this slide, but I need you to explain that crap you were spewing on the phone. What the hell was that?"

"Hey, it's not like I was lying. That was the truth—You know I'm not one to lie," he said proudly, taking a sip from his bottle.

"Yeah, sure, because people who never lie always tell their daughter they were a straight-A student who never failed a subject."

Samuel choked on his beer, his eyes widening as he coughed. Instantly, a shade of red that rivalled a sunset covered his face. "Sorry?"

"Don't act like you didn't hear me," I added casually, "I can't help but wonder how many other secrets you've been hiding from your daughter. Maybe I should start spilling those."

"Hey, hey, hey," Samuel's alert expression amused me. He always turned into a puppy whenever Evelyn was involved, "Don't spill the beans, okay? She doesn't need to find out."

"I might, if you keep tarnishing my reputation like that on the phone."

"Alright, I'll stop. And it's not like you were with some—" Samuel halted, realisation dawning on him. "Wait, you were with someone?"

Oh no...

One thing I despised about him—his brain always kicked into gear when it shouldn't.

"Well, it's not like that—" I cleared my throat, attempting to dismiss it.

"You're seeing someone. Come on, spill, who are you fucking?"

Shit. Hearing it from him didn't sound quite as appealing. I guess we need to stop having one of these heart-to-heart buddy talks especially cause it has Evelyn involved.

"Samuel, seriously, you shouldn't talk like that," I cringed, trying to shake off the discomfort.

"Oh, come on, don't play the saint now. Who is she? Is she a looker?" He persisted, "I know your taste in women is impeccable. But I bet you're not getting all serious just yet. So, who's the girl? Just a quick fuck? There's no shortage of women around here. Gloria? Tiffany? Elise?"

"No, I'm not into married women, you know that," I tsked, taking a sip of my beer.

"Married women are often the safest bet. I stuck with married ones until I found my love, Clara. God she's an absolute beauty," Samuel's eyes seemed to glaze over for a moment, lost in his own thoughts, "Oh, why am I even sharing my story? I'm supposed to be prying into yours. So, spill the beans, is it Chloe?"

"Fuck man, why would I go back to her? She's already messed up my life enough," I scoffed, frustration creeping into my voice, "She's the last person I want to deal with. But thanks to you, I have to put up with her presence again. Great."

"I've said I'm sorry, okay? Forget about it. She's just a guest," Samuel patted my back reassuringly. "But if it's not Chloe, then who is it?"

I wish I could tell you, buddy.

"I'll fill you in later; I'm just not ready to talk about it now."

"Come on, buddy. When have we ever kept secrets?"