Sofia cheered and pulled him by the hand toward the living room, carefully avoiding the wet spots.
"Come on, Alex! Look at my new drawing! And my dolls, and myblock castle!"
And there I was, standing and watching, a thousand emotions churning inside me.
Sofia hadn't been this happy in so long. Maybe I shouldn't stand in the way.
I sighed again and followed them into the living room, settling cautiously on the edge of the sofa.
Alexander sat on the rug with the towel draped over him, Sofia next to him as she showed off her toy doll. The towel covered little; his chest and abs, along with that sexy tattoo, were on full display under the light, making it impossible to look away.
Every time he leaned in to talk to her, his back muscles shifted, his arms flexing...
It was pure torture.
"This is Elsa," Sofia said earnestly, holding up the blonde doll. "She has magic, just like me!"
"Is that so?" Alexander said, amusement in his voice. "Is her magic like yours?"
"No way!" Sofia shook her head, her expression as serious as if she were discussing something profound. "Hers is ice and snow. Mine makes people happy. Mine's better because everyone needs to be happy."
"Your magic is definitely more powerful," he agreed, gently ruffling her hair in a way that tugged at my heart. "You've already helped so many people with it."
Watching this scene—a nearly naked man patiently playing with a little girl—the stark contrast made my pulse race. He was dangerous yet tender, brimming with masculine appeal and overflowing with fatherly warmth.
That contradictory allure left me breathless.
Before I knew it, time had slipped away; I checked the clock—it was almost six.
Sofia was completely absorbed in their play, her laughter clear and joyful, the kind of pure happiness I hadn't heard from her in ages.
Seeing their interaction—him listening patiently as she explainedevery toy, responding to her every word with genuine interest—filled me with a swirl of complicated emotions.
It was too perfect a picture, too beautiful to interrupt.
"Alright, Sofia," I said after a moment's hesitation. "It's time for dinner."
"No!" She hugged his arm tightly. "I want to keep playing with Alex!"
Alexander glanced at his phone, then said softly to her, "Sweetheart, your mom is right. And I should head home—I don't want to impose too long."
He stood up, put on his now half-dry shirt, and prepared to leave. But seeing Sofia's disappointed face... and feeling my own unspoken reluctance, I heard myself say,
"You... would you like to stay for dinner?"
I regretted it the moment the words left my mouth. But his surprised expression and Sofia's excited squeal made it impossible to take back.
"Really?" Sofia clapped her hands. "Alex can have dinner with us?"
"If... if you don't mind," I said to him, trying to sound casual. "I made spaghetti—there's plenty. And after all the help you just gave..."
My voice trembled. Behind the invitation lay so much I couldn't admit—loneliness, desire, and a longing to extend this fleeting sense of family warmth.
Alexander looked at me, surprise giving way to deep gratitude.
"I'd love to," he said, his voice a little unsteady. "If you're sure it's no trouble."
"It's no trouble," I replied, turning toward the kitchen. "It's just a simple meal—hope you don't mind."
