The main reason I didn't disown my sister like my father and Mama Melinda is because of my sister. Not even my whole sister, she wasn't. My half sister, she was. Although she had never been caught giving an unconscious man a blowjob in my living room, she had done many worse things to me, so I should really just give up and go on.
My mother was a wild kid when my father married her, and when he later wed an angel, they had a child from hell. It was a tragic twist of fate.

Mom had moved out when I was three, but she would occasionally visit, and when she did, we would have fun. She was a fun, but I couldn't recall much else. She didn't care about rules or order;
She loved gooey, messy cuisine, exciting locations, and good times.

That was up till she came to visit and, while I was there for the weekend, she met a guy she really liked. She sent me outside to wait for her to bring me back inside after she had taken him back to her hotel and given me a lot of chocolates.

The motel manager noticed me swinging my legs, chewing sweets, and daydreaming while seated outside on a Big Bench and contacted the cops. I had gone off since I was bored by the time they arrived, and the cops discovered me. Dad had me memorize my phone number, which I gave the policemen, and they phoned.

Then, when her one-day-stand yelled at them to keep it down, Dad came to grab me and they had a rip roarin' in the hotel room. He was then attempting to fall asleep, and I never saw Mom again. Ever.

Long I didn't know her well and Mama Melinda was already a part of our life at the time, I missed her for a while.

Mama Melinda was fantastic. The coolest stepmother ever, she was.
She was witty and kind, and she adored my father a lot. She also consistently kept handmade cookies in the cookie jar, which to a little girl growing up in a man's world meant she was almost ideal. When she and Dad got married, I was the flower girl, but not in the traditional sense. She carried my hand as she walked down the aisle while placing the other hand in the crook of her father's arm. She turned her wonderful day become ours. She was publicly announcing that she was heading down the aisle to start a family as well as to accept a guy in marriage. I was six years old at the time, and I've never forgotten how unique she made me feel—not even now.

That, however, was Mama Melinda. She had done it before, and she would continue to do it in the future.

Then Mama and Dad produced Isabelle, who was roughly five million times my mother.

The tragic turn of events was this. Father, Mother Melinda, and I.
The second thing I was considering was anything Finn. he looked, what he said, and how he made me feel.

I already shared a bed with a man whose name I didn't know on a daily basis. I had the best sex in the history of womanhood with a man I met at a restaurant just under a year and a half ago, invited him to my house, slept with him, and, happily or unhappily depending on how you look at it, he kept coming back for more, demonstrating time and time again that the initial experience wasn't an aberration but rather a foreshadowing of better things to come.

He didn't even get a key from me. Both his name and how he got in were a mystery. Though he did. He didn't come every night; sometimes he came once a week, other times twice, occasionally he skipped a week, and once he was missing for three days. This worried me out, which freaked me out even more.

And he always came back. Always.

I didn't need the turmoil that Finn had written about Mysterious Lover in my life. Okay, so he thought I was cute, and another plus was that I was familiar with both of our names (which, Mysterious Lover, by the way, did not know). But he was terrifying and my sister owed him more than three million and not just peso, DOLLARS for goodness’ sake!!!!

Being half my mother's daughter, I already caused enough problems for myself and didn't want to be on anyone's radar when he stated that I may show up on "others'" radar and get into "situations." I didn't need Isabelle dragging me into her struggles.

Finally, I was considering my enigmatic lover. I always did in the days following his arrival. Since I didn't tell him to go, I often pondered what was wrong with me. I was now considering how I would go on to someone else when I had what may be the best lover in the entire world come to see me in the middle of the night. Since meeting The Great ML, I'd been on three dates, had no partners, and none of them had even come close to the brief relationship I'd had with him (yes, the Great ML was that good of a kisser).

He was seriously ruining my life.

No. That wasn't true, though. My life was in serious trouble.

This was my thought as I pulled into my driveway, parked my car, examined my boots, walked up to my house, inserted the key into the lock, and unlocked the door.

But even if I had been listening, I wouldn't have been ready for what followed.

The door banged firmly and loudly once I cleared it. I was then loudly and forcefully smashed into the door by a hand in my chest.

When a man suddenly invaded my space and pushed me into the door with his body, I looked up into a set of somewhat familar-looking black eyes.

Only once had I seen their eyes in the light. When he came to see me at night, he didn't turn on the lights.

I had forgotten how gorgeous he looked. Even in my daydreams, he wasn't that attractive.

"What are you doing here?" I inquired.

"Are you f*cking insane?" he yelled in my face.

I startled at his startling tone and furious inquiry. Then I said, "What?"

"Struttin' into Grind like you did, Jesus, are you insane?"

I blinked again. For starters, I was perplexed. How did he know I went to Grind? Second, I was perplexed. What was he doing there throughout the day? Third, I was perplexed since his wonderfully attractive face revealed that he was enraged.