“You sure?”
She nods, her hair rustling against my shirt. “Yeah, you did good.”
I press my lips to the top of her head. What I’d really like to do is slam her down on the kitchen table and spread her legs.
But that will have to wait since my dad decides to let himself in.
“Hello.” He fixes his glasses, shuffling down the hall.
He took the apartment on the third floor, right below us. He tried to be stubborn and kept telling me he didn’t mind living with Aunt Rosalie.
But when I found this building and saw the configuration, I knew it was too good to pass up. It’s all the parts of my life converging into one. Most would want space. To keep their work and private life separate.
I’ve always been an all in type of guy, though.
Isolde agreed with me and was happy to have my dad living in the same building.
“Did all of your stuff get moved in all right?” Isolde asks him.
“Right as rain.”
It was a family affair, helping my dad move. Every aunt, uncle, and cousin did everything they could to get him situated.
“Here.” Dad holds out a ring box.
“Dad!”
He ignores me, holding it out to Isolde.
“What is that?” she asks.
He forces it into her hand. “It belongs to you.”
Isolde stills when she flips the box open and a tiny diamond ring winks up at her.
“Do you like it?” Dad asks.
“It’s beautiful.”
“If it’s not your style,” Dad says, wiping his brow, “you don’t have to wear it. It’s yours regardless, though.”
“But why?” Isolde asks. “You don’t want it?”
“It was my wife’s. She would be incredibly proud to see you wear it. And my son wishes to marry you.”
I can’t fucking believe this. “Seriously?” I whisper furiously. “I had a plan.”
“Oh, so you were going to propose?” Dad challenges me.
“I had a plan!” One where my dad didn’t propose on my behalf.
“He already did.”
Both our heads whip toward Isolde.
Dad lights up. “Really?”
I frown. “No.”
