When he pulls back, his eyes remain on mine, and there’s something in them that makes my heart ache in the best way.
“You ready?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say, smiling. “I’m ready.”
“Wait,” my dad says from his spot near the couch. “A photo. I need a photo.”
Jace chuckles and steps back. “You heard the man. We need a photo.”
My dad fiddles with his phone. He finally opens the camera app, but when he lifts it to take a photo, I notice his hand shaking slightly.
“Smile,” he says, and Jace and I turn toward him, standing close together.
The phone clicks. Then clicks again.
“Dad, are you—”
“I can’t get it,” he mutters, frustration creeping into his voice.
Jace releases my hand and moves across the room, kneeling beside my dad in the wheelchair. “Here, let me help.”
He gently takes the phone and scrolls through the photos my dad accidentally took. Most of them are blurry or cropped.
“Alright,” Jace says, standing up and holding the phone out in front of us. “Let’s do this right.” He wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me close against his side, and holds the phone up high. “Smile, Bells.”
I lean into him, resting my hand on his chest, and smile at the camera.
The phone clicks, and Jace looks at the screen.
“Got it. And we actually look good, so that’s a win.”
He turns the phone toward me, and I lean in to see. The photo is perfect. Better than perfect. We look great.
Jace glances at my dad, then back at me. “Go over there so I can take a photo of you and your dad.”
Emotions surge so quickly that I’m caught off guard when I see my dad watching me with that soft expression he tries to hide. The one that makes me tearful because it reminds me of how things used to be.
My heels click softly against the hardwood as I cross the room and crouch beside him. I wrap my arm around his shoulders, careful not to jostle him, and he lifts his good hand, resting it on mine. His fingers squeeze gently, the grip weaker than it once was but still there… still him.
“You look... beautiful, sweetheart,” he says quietly, his voice thick with emotion.
“Thanks, Dad,” I whisper, blinking back tears that threaten to spill over and ruin the makeup Sam took over an hour to apply.
Jace holds up the phone, stepping back to get the right angle. “Alright, you two. Smile.”
I lean my head against my dad’s and smile. The phone clicks.
Jace looks at the screen, and his expression softens. “Perfect,” he says, his voice quieter now.
He crosses the room and holds out the phone for my dad. My dad carefully takes it, his good hand steadying it as he studies the image. His eyes linger on the photo and I can see emotion crossing his face. The bittersweet feeling of watching his daughter grow up.
He glances up at Jace, and there’s something in his expression.
“Thank you,” he says, and there’s weight in those two words. Gratitude for more than just the photo—for treating me right and becoming the man a dad can trust with his daughter.
“Anytime, Sir,” Jace says, with genuine respect in his voice.
My dad holds Jace’s gaze for a moment longer. “Take care of her tonight.”
