We’ll be just fine, okay? What I’m worried about is you,” he says, making me stop in my tracks.
“Me?”
“Yes, you, sweetheart,” he replies with a chuckle. “Lena, I wasn’t blind nor stupid three years ago. I know he asked you to go and what your answer was. You put on a brave smile and said all the right things, but inside you were miserable when he left. And sad, and as your father, there’s one thing I hate most in this world, and that’s my daughter’s sadness. So, yes, I’m worried about you. I don’t want to see you hurting again when your time there ends.”
I exhale, my back sagging against the wall. “I know, Dad, but I don’t know what else to do. He needs my help, and…well, I couldn’t just walk away.”
Dad sighs. “I understand, sweetheart. Just promise me you’ll be careful.”
“I will,” I tell him with a grateful grin. “I promise.” My dad is the best.
“So tell me about the kid. What’s his name again?”
“Oliver, and he’s the sweetest little thing, all wrinkly and tiny. He’s only three weeks old.”
“Well, maybe I’ll get to meet him someday,” Dad says. “Mack Cruz a dad. Never thought I’d see it,” he adds with a chuckle.
He’s not the only one. Mack wasn’t sure he’d ever want to be a father, not after his upbringing. His mom left when he was little, and his dad was an alcoholic. He was always losing his job, and there was never anything to eat in the house. Mack once told me when he was twelve, he helped stock at the small grocery store in the town square. The man who owned the business knew of Mack’s situation, and after catching him stealing a package of lunch meat and some bread, he agreed to let the young boy work in the back room for cash. Mack was able to use the money to buy food so he didn’t starve to death while his dad used all the money for cheap vodka.
But the truth is, Mack is a good dad. I can see it, even in the limited time I’ve witnessed them interact. He knows what it’s like to struggle, so he’ll do whatever it takes to make sure Oliver has a better life than he had.
A loud wail drifts down the stairs, and I’m immediately on alert. “Dad, I need to go. Oliver is awake, and Mack went up to shower.”
“Well, don’t keep the boy waiting. I expect a few photos later, maybe?”
“Done,” I tell him with a smile. “Love you, Dad.”
“Love you more, sweetheart. Tell Mack I said hello.”
“Will do. Bye.” The moment he bids farewell, I end the call and slip my phone in my back pocket. I’m already moving to the stairs and heading back to Mack’s bedroom.
When he didn’t come back down earlier, I quietly slipped upstairs to look for them. I found Mack passed out on top of his duvet, with Oliver sawing logs in the bassinet beside the king-sized bed. I didn’t enter the room but was able to take a few minutes to glance around and see how Mack has been living for the last few years. Obviously well, considering he owns a decent-sized home with a massive garage and expansive yard near Burbank.
Now, I’m actually stepping inside the room. Oliver is clearly awake and not the least bit happy, his tiny arms flailing around as his lungs exercise a healthy cry. Just as I bend down and scoop him into my arms, a door within the bedroom flies open, and a very wet, very naked—well, wrapped in a towel—Mack emerges in a flurry of steam and worry.
My eyes are so wide they hurt as I gape back at a very cut, extremely toned Mack Cruz standing across the room, a blue towel wrapped around his waist. His chest is all tanned, smooth skin, and I’m pretty sure I could count more than six abs if I were to stop and try. But what holds my attention now is the way that towel hangs low on his hips, giving me a perfect view of the V that disappears behind the terry cloth.
“Lena?”
My name startles me into looking up, my eyes connecting with his dark ones. “What?”
Mack is grinning from ear to ear, his hands now resting on his hips. “I asked if everything was okay.”
“Oh! Yeah! Right as rain,” I rush out, cradling Oliver to my chest. “I just heard him crying. I’ll just…” I point a finger