I trusted him.
I knew my dad would be alright. He’d survive.
* * *
“Areyou sure you don’t want steamed rice with the curry—”
I made a face behind his back. “No, thank you. I’ll make some ramen.”
James froze and turned around. He was wearing a ‘Call me DADDY’ apron, which oddly enough, suited him.
It was illegal how he could wear anything and make it look hot.
“Can you even boil water without burning down the house?” he asked, keeping his hand on his hip.
“Of course I can!” My cheeks turned red, and I defended myself. “Last week, I boiled the water and cooked the noodles.”
He nodded, plating food in a Tupperware. “Sure you did. The noodles were salty and half uncooked, so you ended up ordering a takeout.Again.”
I sulked on my stool, fiddling with the loops of tie that I was still learning from YouTube. I missed my dad. I wished he would tie my tie and call me his Pumpkin.
It had been over a week since my dad had surgery and a metal clip was placed inside his head. I know, it was scary cool. Summer joked about how he won’t be able to walk through metal detectors, and Emma corrected her, saying it was a titanium chip.
He could walk through metal detectors as soon as he could walk again. The doctor had mentioned atrophy, but it had hurt to see him in a hospital bed all day or use a wheelchair. He had to spend a few more days in the hospital while he underwent therapy to regain his ability to walk.
“You’re looping it wrong—here, let me teach you how to do this…” James walked towards me and stood too close. His long fingers expertly moving through the loops. I noticed the stubble on his sharp jaw and wanted to ask if he was doing okay.
He was close to my father, after all. It must have hurt him, too. Not to mention having to spend time in the house, cooped up with me and my annoying self for the past week.
Did I annoy him? Did I ask for too much sweets and junk food?I wanted to ask him, but I trusted James to be honest about his feelings.
On the good side, I had been laser focused on my studies and eating delicious healthy meals of James’ cooking. I had joked that if he hadn’t become an architect, he could definitely go try his hand at being a chef, and he revealed to me that his mother was a chef.
My dad had mentioned that James was an orphan, but we never talked about his parents. It must be too painful for him.
Grief. Loss. Death. All these emotions took a lot of courage to talk about, and I’d wait until James felt comfortable enough to talk to me about them.
“Mia.” There was a small smile on his lips when I pulled out of my head. “Did you learn anything, or were you too busy drooling at me?”
“I was not drooling at you…”Wait, was I? Do I have drool on my chin?Ohmygod. Kill me. “I… I don’t think I have motor skills to tie any knot,” I said, frowning at the perfect tie James did. “Where did you learn to tie a tie?”
His eyes darkened as he fixed my collars and smoothened my shirt. My heartbeat fluttered at his little touch. It was such a domesticated action that I wanted him to pull me closer and—
No. Bad thoughts.
“I learned it from a lot of things.”
“Such as?”
His blue gaze pinned on me. “Trust me, Princess. You don’t want to know.”
“No, I want to know. I want to learn how to tie…” My words died in my throat when he leaned closer.
“I know how to tie up pretty little princesses like you when they don’t behave and eat their veggies.” My jaw dropped when he tugged at my tie and pulled away. He slid the Tupperware to me and crossed his arms, his face stern. “I want to see that empty after lunch.”
“Or what?” I asked angrily, shoving my lunch in my bag and glaring at him. “You’re going to tie me up and punish me, Daddy?”
He narrowed his eyes, and I had to hold my breath when he whispered in a low, husky voice, “I just might, Princess.”