Page 32 of When Love And Destiny Collide

Lily,

I’m honored that these pages made an impression on you.

Although nothing can compare to the impression you've made on me.

Here’s to the chapters that are yet to be written.

Warmly,

Noah

I wonder what he would write now.

My thoughts drift back to the kiss we shared at the house, the memory lingering like a sweet ache. If he had whispered, "Stay," I would have given in without hesitation. What I feel for him runs deeper than mere attraction—it’s a connection that scares me with its intensity. The thought of anything coming between us fills me with a fear I can’t ignore. But that fear only confirms what I’ve known in my heart all along: I love this man and his son with every piece of me.

Everything changes the moment the words leave my lips. I have to tell him.

The familiar ringtone on my phone signals my father's call, reminding me it's been over a week since we last spoke. I set my teacup on the side table and quickly answer. "Hi, Dad," I say, a twinge of guilt creeping in for not callinghimsooner.

"Hola, Cariño," he says, using the Spanish term of endearment for "darling" that he’s called me for as long as I can remember. "I'm sorry I haven't called."

"It's okay, Dad. I should've called you first."

“How’s the daycare coming along?”

I hesitate, bracing myself. “We hit a bit of a snag.”

I explain my ankle injury, pausing before adding, “But Noah’s been incredible. He arranged to paint the space and moved all the furniture and supplies in. Thanks to him, it’s almost done.”

“Noah… your landlord?”

“Yes,” I reply, sensing the tension creeping into his voice.

“Mija,” he begins, using the term of endearment that always signals a teachable moment—or worse, concern. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? Why is your landlord involved in your business matters?”

Ugh. I realize I’ve said too much, probably with more enthusiasm than I should have. I can’t seem to talk about Noah without smiling, without this rush of excitement about what the future might hold.

I take a breath, my heart skipping a beat. "Dad, I like him."

“Like him?” he repeats, and I can almost see his eyebrow arching. “You might want to clarify exactly what that means because it sounds like you’re saying youlikelike him. But I’m sure you mean he’s a good landlord and a nice man you appreciate, right?”

"I love him, Dad."

He goes silent, and I can almost picture him in his favorite recliner, phone pressed to his ear, rubbing the five o'clock shadow on his face as he processes my words.

"Lily Sophia Cruz. He's old enough to be your father. He's divorced, and he has a child. Absolutely not!"

“With all due respect, Dad, I’m not asking for your permission. I’m just letting you know how I feel.”

“You’re not ready to handle that much responsibility, Cariño. You’re way too young, and he’s too old. You’ll have to deal with his ex-wife and with his son's rejection because he will never accept you as his mother.”

Dad’s words cut deep, each one a sharp reminder that he's not one to measure his words or hold back when voicing his concerns.

“I appreciate your honesty, Dad," I say begrudgingly.

“Does this man know how you feel?” he asks, his voice edged with skepticism. “Because if he has any common sense, he’ll tell you exactly what I’m telling you.”

“We’ve only been on one date,” I confess. “We’re getting to know each other, but I already know how strongly I feel for him.”

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