Page 56
Story: Resolute
I want to be the man she turns to, the one who stands between her and the rest of the world.
I want to be the reason she feels untouchable, the steady hand at her back, that voice that reminds her she’s never alone.
Her guardian.
Her knight in shining armor.
“Camila. Where to?” I ask.
She gets all flustered, and I berate myself. I need to stop talking like I’m upset all the time. If I want her to trust me, I need to stop being an arsehole.
“Oh, yes. I’m sorry. I made reservations at Annata,” she says as I drive us out of the carpark and into the Mayfair traffic.
I didn’t tell her which restaurant to pick, but I’m glad she chose something she felt comfortable with. The food at Annata is superb.
“Ava sent you something,” she says as she takes a pink piece of paper out of her bag. “I wasn’t sure if it was okay to give it to you, but since we’re not in the office, I figured I’d try.”
I smile at her and take the paper from her hands when we hit a red light.
There are three stick figures on a sofa. The tallest—which I think is me—is drawn in black crayon, probably because I was wearing a black suit yesterday. The one I think is Camila is in pink, and the smallest figure, sketched in blue and has pink bows, sits between us.
It’s the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen, but warmth spreads through me at the thought of me making an impact in this little girl’s life.
She has already changed mine.
Would she still like me if I asked her Mum to marry me?
Would I be a good father figure for her?
Before meeting them, never in my life did I think about creating a family. But the way these two warm my heart—so easily, so unexpectedly—makes me think that maybe…just maybe…this feeling isn’t so strange after all.
Maybe it’s exactly what I’ve been missing.
I don’t want to let them go.
“She said that was a picture of the three of us yesterday,” Camila says softly, pulling me from my thoughts. “She was thrilled to have you with us, but you don’t have to keep it if you don’t want to.”
She makes a move to take the paper from my hand, but I immediately move it toward my door and tuck it in the holder, safe and secure.
“Oh no, I’m definitely keeping it. No one has ever painted something for me,” I say honestly, and her smile widens.
The light turns green, and I focus on driving.
When we get to the restaurant, I park on the street and glance her way. Her fingers trace small, nervous patterns on her skirt, an endearing gesture I hadn’t anticipated.
“Stay put,” I say low, but a little rougher than I intended.
She looks up, her brows drawing together, but she doesn’t argue.
I step out, then walk around the car and open the door for her. When she gives me her hand, I interlock our fingers. And even though she looks confused, she doesn’t remove her hand from my hold.
We both must feel the current coursing through our veins, because our hands jerk in unison.
I chuckle but don’t release her.
She gives me a timid smile, but the flush on her cheeks tells me she’s feeling this too.
“Good afternoon Mr. Godoy. Do you have a reservation?” the hostess asks with a polite smile.
I want to be the reason she feels untouchable, the steady hand at her back, that voice that reminds her she’s never alone.
Her guardian.
Her knight in shining armor.
“Camila. Where to?” I ask.
She gets all flustered, and I berate myself. I need to stop talking like I’m upset all the time. If I want her to trust me, I need to stop being an arsehole.
“Oh, yes. I’m sorry. I made reservations at Annata,” she says as I drive us out of the carpark and into the Mayfair traffic.
I didn’t tell her which restaurant to pick, but I’m glad she chose something she felt comfortable with. The food at Annata is superb.
“Ava sent you something,” she says as she takes a pink piece of paper out of her bag. “I wasn’t sure if it was okay to give it to you, but since we’re not in the office, I figured I’d try.”
I smile at her and take the paper from her hands when we hit a red light.
There are three stick figures on a sofa. The tallest—which I think is me—is drawn in black crayon, probably because I was wearing a black suit yesterday. The one I think is Camila is in pink, and the smallest figure, sketched in blue and has pink bows, sits between us.
It’s the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen, but warmth spreads through me at the thought of me making an impact in this little girl’s life.
She has already changed mine.
Would she still like me if I asked her Mum to marry me?
Would I be a good father figure for her?
Before meeting them, never in my life did I think about creating a family. But the way these two warm my heart—so easily, so unexpectedly—makes me think that maybe…just maybe…this feeling isn’t so strange after all.
Maybe it’s exactly what I’ve been missing.
I don’t want to let them go.
“She said that was a picture of the three of us yesterday,” Camila says softly, pulling me from my thoughts. “She was thrilled to have you with us, but you don’t have to keep it if you don’t want to.”
She makes a move to take the paper from my hand, but I immediately move it toward my door and tuck it in the holder, safe and secure.
“Oh no, I’m definitely keeping it. No one has ever painted something for me,” I say honestly, and her smile widens.
The light turns green, and I focus on driving.
When we get to the restaurant, I park on the street and glance her way. Her fingers trace small, nervous patterns on her skirt, an endearing gesture I hadn’t anticipated.
“Stay put,” I say low, but a little rougher than I intended.
She looks up, her brows drawing together, but she doesn’t argue.
I step out, then walk around the car and open the door for her. When she gives me her hand, I interlock our fingers. And even though she looks confused, she doesn’t remove her hand from my hold.
We both must feel the current coursing through our veins, because our hands jerk in unison.
I chuckle but don’t release her.
She gives me a timid smile, but the flush on her cheeks tells me she’s feeling this too.
“Good afternoon Mr. Godoy. Do you have a reservation?” the hostess asks with a polite smile.
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 12
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 40
- Page 41
- Page 42
- Page 43
- Page 44
- Page 45
- Page 46
- Page 47
- Page 48
- Page 49
- Page 50
- Page 51
- Page 52
- Page 53
- Page 54
- Page 55
- Page 56
- Page 57
- Page 58
- Page 59
- Page 60
- Page 61
- Page 62
- Page 63
- Page 64
- Page 65
- Page 66
- Page 67
- Page 68
- Page 69
- Page 70
- Page 71
- Page 72
- Page 73
- Page 74
- Page 75
- Page 76
- Page 77
- Page 78
- Page 79
- Page 80
- Page 81
- Page 82
- Page 83
- Page 84
- Page 85
- Page 86
- Page 87
- Page 88
- Page 89
- Page 90
- Page 91
- Page 92
- Page 93
- Page 94
- Page 95
- Page 96
- Page 97
- Page 98
- Page 99
- Page 100
- Page 101
- Page 102
- Page 103
- Page 104
- Page 105
- Page 106
- Page 107
- Page 108
- Page 109
- Page 110
- Page 111
- Page 112
- Page 113
- Page 114
- Page 115
- Page 116
- Page 117
- Page 118
- Page 119
- Page 120
- Page 121
- Page 122
- Page 123
- Page 124
- Page 125
- Page 126
- Page 127
- Page 128
- Page 129
- Page 130
- Page 131
- Page 132
- Page 133
- Page 134