Page 38 of 3 Daddies to Go

We can start slow and put her in touch with an established organization. We all work with places that take care of kids. She could get her foot in the door that way.

But for now, we need to support her by following her around town and giving her all the pleasure she could possibly want. The rest can come later.

She deserves it. Kendall is the best person I’ve ever met. She’s kind and caring. She has a tender, giving heart. It’s clear that she thinks about everyone else before she ever considers herself. I admire that about her.

“You guys coming?” I hadn’t realized we stopped until she spoke. We have to jog to catch up to Kendall. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine, promise.”

“Our tour starts in five minutes, though, so let’s get on it. We don’t want them to leave without us. You can do self-guided, but you don’t get the same insider information. These walls have a lot of secrets that only the tour guides can share.”

We obey and follow her into the foyer. It looks a lot like our hotel with high ceilings and a lot of gold. I could see myself living in a place like this. It’s over the top, but in a beautiful way.

My thoughts are interrupted by a booming, deep voice. “Welcome to Covington Manor!”

I look up to see an older guy dressed like a caretaker from the Civil War era. They must take their staging very seriously here.

“I’m Joe, and we’re so happy you could join us today. We’ve got an excellent tour for you. As you all know, the manor closes promptly at seven, so let’s get this tour on the road so you don’t miss out on anything!”

The chipper man leads us down the front hallway, chatting about the paintings on the wall.

“You may recognize some of this work. Everything in this part of the house is original, and most of it predates the Civil War.”

I wonder how many museums have tried to buy out this collection.

“You are looking firsthand at history.” Joe stops at the end of the hall, in front of a painting. Four unsmiling faces stare at our tour group. Twenty-one faces, including mine, stare back.

“This is possibly the most important piece in the entire house,” Joe says excitedly. “It was painted by a local artist named Hector Cawfield. The man in the top left is Mister Florence Covington the Third, the original proprietor of the manor and the man who commissioned the painting. Cawfield started work on the painting in 1851 but only completed it in 1854.”

There’s a young girl in the painting. I can make out the eyelashes on her eyes, that’s how intricate the details are.

“Unfortunately, only one person in this painting would survive the war, Miss Lilah Covington, the young daughter seated up front. She ran the manor until her death in 1872. She was only twenty-five years old. The manor was left to her only child, a son, who passed it on to his daughter when he died. The manor has never left the Covington family, in some form. Contrary to traditional customs, Lilah kept her maiden name so that the mansion would never lose the title her father gave it when he built it. Every Covington woman has done the same to ensure the family name lived on.”

Joe takes us down another hallway, telling us more about the Covingtons. Tag, Trace, and I try to pay attention, we really do, but Kendall walks in front of us, her ass swaying in that tight skirt.

In yet another hallway, Joe stops again. This corridor is lined with eight different doors.

“This is a very special hallway,” Joe says. “Florence Covington the Third was not the happy family man he pretended to be. Each of these eight doors hides a bedroom. Covington’s eight mistresses each slept in one of the rooms. Surprisingly, only three illegitimate children were born to th0se mistresses. They were all lost to the war in some way or another, like Covington’s only legitimate son.”

Now that’s what I’m talking about. The guys and I share a look, an unspoken agreement passing between us.

As Joe prattles on ahead of us, I check the knobs. The first five are locked, but finally I find an open room. I nod to the guys. They bring Kendall over under the guise of checking out the painting next to the door. When she gets close enough, I pull her inside. Tag and Trace follow behind, closing the door before anyone notices we’re missing.

“What the hell?” Kendall squeals.

“Shhh,” I say, glancing towards the door. “Someone will hear you.”

“Why’d you drag me in here? This is not a part of the tour. They closed off the mistress rooms after people kept--” Her eyes widen. She doesn’t bother finishing the sentence, having figured out that’s exactly why we dragged her in here. “There are visitors outside! Someone is going to notice that we’re missing from the tour.”

“No one will notice, I promise.”

She bites her lip. “You guys are going to get me kicked out of Covington Manor for good!”

I twirl her loose hair around my finger. It’s the first time she’s worn her hair down since we met her. The waves fall just below her shoulder blades. It’s the perfect length to hold onto as we’re ramming her from behind. “We aren’t going to be caught.”

“The other tourists will notice that the group is four people smaller than when they started!”

“They’re too busy listening to Joe’s stories to care about us.”