MARRIED TO MY EX FATHER IN LAW

IT'S NOT GENTLE

I can't do this anymore.

Can't sit across from Ocean at dinner pretending I don't want to reach across the table and touch him. Can't make polite conversation when all I want to do is tell him how I feel. Can't keep living in this house, loving him, while he sees me as nothing more than a responsibility.

It's killing me.

Tonight is worse than usual. Ocean is wearing a dark sweater that makes his gray eyes stand out. His hair is slightly messy, like he's been running his hands through it. He's tired—I can see it in the lines around his eyes—but he's still here. Having dinner with me. Like he always does.

"You're quiet tonight," he says.

"Just thinking."

"About?"

You. Always you. Every minute of every day is about you.

"Nothing important."

He doesn't believe me. I can tell by the way he's looking at me. Like he's trying to read my mind.

We eat in silence for a few minutes. The tension is thick enough to choke on.

Our hands both reach for the wine bottle at the same time.

The touch is electric. Just his fingers brushing mine. But it sends a jolt through my entire body.

We both freeze. Staring at our hands. At the point where we're connected.

"Sorry," I whisper, pulling back.

"Don't be."

But I am sorry. Sorry that I can't have what I want. Sorry that every touch feels like fire. Sorry that I'm in love with a man who doesn't love me back.

"Lola." His voice is careful. "Are you okay? You've seemed... off. For days now."

"I'm fine."

"You're not fine. Talk to me. Please."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because." I set down my fork. Can't eat anymore. Can't pretend anymore. "Because if I start talking, I won't be able to stop. And I'll say things that will ruin everything."

Ocean leans forward. "What things?"

"Ocean, please—"

"What things, Lola? What are you not saying?"

Everything. I'm not saying everything.

"It doesn't matter."

"It matters to me."

His voice is so gentle. So concerned. Like he actually cares.

And that makes it worse. Because his care isn't what I want. I want more. Want everything. Want things I can't have.

"I should go." I stand up abruptly. "I'm not feeling well. I'm sorry."

"Lola, wait—"

But I'm already walking away. Out of the dining room. Into the hallway.

I hear his chair scrape. His footsteps following.

"Lola, stop. Please."

I stop. Don't turn around. Can't look at him right now.

"What's wrong?" He's behind me. Close. I can feel the heat of his body. "Did I do something? Say something?"

"No. You didn't do anything. That's the problem."

"I don't understand."

I laugh. It sounds broken. "Of course you don't."

"Then explain it to me."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because!" I spin around to face him. And he's right there. Inches away. "Because I'm in love with you and I can't keep pretending I'm not!"

The words hang in the air between us.

Ocean's eyes go wide. Shocked. Like that's the last thing he expected me to say.

"You're... what?"

"I'm in love with you." Now that I've started, I can't stop. "I think about you constantly. I look forward to dinner more than anything else in my day. When something happens, you're the first person I want to tell. When I laugh, I want it to be because of something you said. I can't sleep because I'm thinking about you. I can't breathe when you're near me because all I want to do is—"

I stop myself. But it's too late. I've said too much.

Ocean is staring at me. His expression unreadable.

"Lola—"

"I know. I know it's impossible. I know I'm too young and you're my ex-father-in-law and I'm probably just confused and mixing up gratitude with feelings and—"

"Stop." His voice is firm. "Stop talking."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything. I'll go. I'll pack my things. I'll find somewhere else to—"

"Lola." He steps closer. "Stop."

I finally shut up. Look at him. At those storm-gray eyes that see everything.

"You're not confused," he says quietly. "And you're not mixing up anything."

"How do you know?"

"Because I know the difference between gratitude and love. And what you just described?" His hand moves toward my face. Stops. Like he's fighting himself. "That's love."

My heart is pounding so hard I think it might break through my ribs.

"But you don't feel the same way," I whisper. "I know you don't. You're just being kind. Protecting me. That's all I am to you. A responsibility."

"Is that really what you think?"

"What else am I supposed to think? You pull away every time we get close. You maintain distance. You—"

"I'm trying not to ruin you." His voice is rough. Raw. "I'm trying to do the right thing. To give you space to heal. To not take advantage of you when you're vulnerable."

"I'm not vulnerable. Not anymore. And you're not taking advantage."

"Lola, you don't understand what you're asking—"

"I understand perfectly. I'm asking you to stop pushing me away. I'm asking you to—"

"To what? To love you? I already do." The words burst out of him. "I'm already in love with you. Have been for weeks. And it's killing me because I can't have you."

I can't breathe. Can't think. Can't process what he just said.

"You... you love me?"

"Yes. God help me, yes."

"Then why..."

"Because you deserve better than me. Because I'm too old. Because this is too complicated. Because—"

I don't let him finish.

I close the distance between us. Rise up on my toes. And kiss him.

For a second, Ocean doesn't move. Doesn't respond. Just stands there frozen.

Then his hands are in my hair and he's kissing me back.

And everything else disappears.

The age gap. The circumstances. The impossibility of it all.

None of it matters.

All that matters is his mouth on mine. His hands cradling my face like I'm something precious. The way he's kissing me like he's been dying to do it forever.

It's not gentle. Not careful. It's desperate. Hungry. Years of wanting compressed into this single moment.

I make a sound. Can't help it. And Ocean responds by pulling me closer. Deepening the kiss. One hand sliding to the back of my neck while the other wraps around my waist.

I've never been kissed like this. Like I'm needed. Like I'm wanted. Like I'm everything.

When we finally break apart, we're both breathing hard. Foreheads pressed together. Hearts racing.

"Lola." My name sounds like a prayer. "We shouldn't—"

"Don't." I pull back just enough to look at him. "Don't you dare say we shouldn't have done that."

"This is complicated—"

"I don't care."

"You should care. I'm twenty-six years older than you—"

"I. Don't. Care."

"Lola—"

I kiss him again. Cutting off his protests. His arguments. His reasons why this can't work.

Because I don't want to hear them.

I just want this. Want him.

And from the way he's kissing me back, pulling me closer, making those sounds low in his throat...

He wants this too.

Wants me too.

Everything else we can figure out later.

Right now, in this moment, all that matters is that Ocean Moretti loves me.

And I love him.

And we finally stopped fighting it.