I decide not to tell her about the six blissful weeks I spent working in a vineyard eating my body weight in cheese and fucking the village baker under the vines every night.
they decided to take drastic action to keep the place and turned it into a B&B.
Bruh, just sell it. That's super dangerous for an infant. Not to mention stressful af and y'all kinda need the money to provide for your child. Common sense, man.
sold off by my parents to pay down the manor’s mortgage
The manor has been in the family for generations but there's still a mortgage on it? And wouldn't the lil house be part of the mortgage? I dunno how that shit works.
Now my memories of her are sullied by the way her tight t-shirt clings to her breasts, and the rod in my britches is harder than if I spent a whole morning sitting in the electrical box—
YOU WERE LITERALLY JUST TALKING ABOUT HER AS A CHILD