Page 74 of The Surrender

Content.

I’m so fucking content. And for the first time, ineveryaspect of my life.

I let him kiss the daylights out of me, my hands on a mission through his hair. “Watch your hand,” he says, gruff.

“It’s fine.”

“Still hungry?” He rests his head on my chest, feeding his fingers through mine.

“Not really,” I say with effort, wincing as he slips out of me. After getting his sweatpants in place, he pulls me up, smiling at my mess of wet hair. He looks so content too. No stormy clouds hanging over him, his temper tamed.

“How were your brothers when you lost your parents?” I ask, the question falling out without warning, surprising us both. I wonder for a moment if he’ll answer. I’m sure he thinks he’s talked enough about his parents today, but he finally smiles a little and drags a light fingertip down my cheek.

“They dealt with it in their own way. Casey escaped into a kitchen, Rhys escaped in women, booze, and rugby.” He pushes his lips to my forehead. “Never be at odds with your parents, Amelia. You never know when will be the last time you see them.”

I want to cry for him.Couldcry for him. Nodding, I let him get me down. He helps me into my robe and puts me on my stool, before sorting himself.

“Need a tissue?” he asks as I have some wine, what he just said about parents sitting heavy on my mind.

“Yeah, give me a second.”

“Of course,” he says, starting to collect the plates.

I leave the room and go to his bathroom, cleaning myself up before calling Dad.

“Darling?” he answers, sounding worried. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, why?”

“You’re calling me when you’re not talking to me. This isn’t how we do it. You come round for dinner, make me a cuppa, I give you a hug, and that’s that.”

I sit on the edge of the bed and fall to my back. “Aren’t you fed up with doing that?”

“No, I like it when we make peace.”

“That’s not making peace, Dad. That’s me letting things slide because I hate being at odds with you.”

“I just want what’s best for you.”

“Whatisbest for me?”

“Well, security. A decent, strong man who can look after you.”

“Any decent, strong man? Or just Nick?” And I don’t need looking after, but I won’t get into that.

“He fits in,” Dad grumbles.

“Yes, with you, Dad. He fits in with you. He didn’t fit in with me, and since you’re talking about what’s best for me, I think I’m qualified to let you know, it isn’t Nick.”

“Oh.” If I could see him, I know he’d be pouting. “And this new man, might he fit in with you?”

I suck my bottom lip in, daring myself to say it. “I think he could,” I whisper, almost reluctantly. “I really think he could.”

“Then I should meet him.”

I snort. “You’ll meet him when I decide you’ve had a suitable amount of time to control your urges to stick your nose into my business.”

“You’re my little girl!” he huffs, outraged. “It’s my business to be in your business.”