Page 9 of Twin Babies for the Pucking Billionaires

“Millie, sweetheart,” his voice is warm. “Just got the notification about your latest post.”

“I still can’t believe you follow me on social media.”

“Maybe you should block me,” he laughs on the other side, filling my chest with warmth. I have missed him so damnmuch.

I chuckle softly. “I know, right? It’s like you’re my biggest fan or something.”

“Of course, I am,” he replies proudly. “You’re my baby girl.”

I smile, feeling a rush of affection. “Thanks, Dad.”

“How are you really doing, kiddo?” he asks gently.

“I’m hanging in there,” I admit, swirling the milk in my now almost empty glass.

“You sure?” he probes further, as usual, seeing through my facade.

“Yeah, I promise,” I assure him. “I’m okay.”

There’s a brief silence before he speaks again. “You know, Ryan’s a fool.”

I can’t help but laugh softly. “You never did like him.”

“I tried.”

“Don’t lie, Dad.”

He chuckles too, but it fades into a serious tone. “Well, I definitely don’t like him now. Not after what he did to you.”

“Thanks, Dad,” I say sincerely. It’s moments like these that remind me how lucky I am to have him. “I’m trying to move on.”

“I heard. Jade mentioned you’ve been going out for hot chocolate,” he mentions casually.

I sigh, feeling fondness for Jade’s meddling. “You two are not allowed to gossip about me.”

“It’s not gossiping. We just care about you, Millie,” he says gently.

“I know,” I concede, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear.

“But you know what I told you ever since you were young…”

“When in distress, seek paths to de-stress,” I parrot back to him.

“Exactly. Now, are you getting enough exercise? You could join that yoga class your best friend is always trying to get me to sign up for…”

“Oh hell no. Those classes are brutal. I’m actually planning to go for a walk now.”

“Where?”

“Umm…” I cup my cheek trying to think. “Lincoln Park. It’s been a while since I was down there.

“Good,” he says approvingly. “Get some fresh air. It’ll do you good.”

“Yeah,” I agree softly. “Thanks, Dad. How is retirement treating you?”

My father had retired from years spent as an art teacher with the mission to travel the world. That journey ended abruptly when, seven months ago, he told me he was buying a farm in the middle of Alabama.

“It is okay. The corn harvest is off to a great start and I’m now making plans to start chicken farming,” he says excitedly.

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