Page 69 of Until I Find You

All the weight of the day melts from his face with his eye-brightening smile. “I have something for you. Come.”

He drops me back on my feet and fetches the bag.

“You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I think you’re forgetting the whole concept of this ‘I’m Daddy’, thing, Cam,” he says with a grin, stepping into the house. “Which way to the bedroom?”

I laugh, closing the door behind him. “Wow, you’re moving fast.”

He laughs, running a hand through his hair. “I’m not trying to–”

I interject, grabbing his hand and pulling him to my bedroom. “This way.”

My apartment is nothing like Jack’s penthouse, but for me, it’s a palace.

I’ve come a long way since I moved to New York. From student housing to shoeboxes crammed full of roommates, to a studio, and finally to my very own place with a bedroom separate from the kitchen and living room. I’ve felt like a queen ever since I moved in.

Once we’re in the bedroom, Jack glances around. He’s quiet.

I have to force myself not to get fidgety. “What?”

“Nothing, I just…” He grabs at my eyelet fabric duvet, looks at the floral-patterned curtains. “Much more girlish than I expected.”

I glance around. I suppose lots of the decorating is similar to my childhood bedroom. All frilly and floral and pink. You might think a little girl lived here instead of a twenty-something. Or someone’s grandmother.

“I think you might like this, then,” Jack says, his voice low in his ribs as he hands me the bag.

I take it, eyeing him. “I’m nervous.”

He tucks his hands behind his back. “Don’t be.”

I place the bag on the bed and reach in, moving tissue aside until my fingers land on smooth silk. I pull the garment upward until it’s hanging between my fingers.

My mouth drops.

It’s the most stunning nightgown I’ve ever seen. Peach-colored and thin with a bow right at the neckline and ruffles along the skirt and the short sleeves.

I could picture a Victorian heroine sneaking around a manor house wearing it.

Or I could picture me wearing it. Daddy’s baby girl.

“I saw it, and I knew you had to have it,” he says in a soft yet assured tone.

“It’s beautiful,” I say. “But it must have been so expensive, I don’t know why you’d–”

Daddy steps up to me, taking my chin in his palm. “Look at me, princess. And listen.”

I don’t make a sound. I wait for Daddy to tell me what he needs to.

“There is no expense I will spare to make sure that you are taken care of. Nothing is too much for you.” He grabs a handful of the nightgown, fingering it so delicately.

I wish I was the nightgown, wish his fingers were playing upon me.

“I’d buy you a nightgown of diamonds.”

“That sounds uncomfortable.” I giggle.

Daddy smiles at me, eyes crinkling at the corners. Like I’m something dear.

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