Page 56 of The Good Girl Effect
My daughter seems to really like you, and that’s more important to me than my selfish desires.
Also, you should talk like that more often. Tell me what you want.
You should always be honest about that.
I want to write my response before we leave, but Bea is already bouncing excitedly and clearly restless to get out of the house for the day. So my letter will have to wait.
We’re by the front door, tying the laces on her shoes, when we hear footsteps coming down the stairs. Bea and I look up at the same time to see Jack walking down. He’s casual today in a pair of dark jeans and a Henley-style shirt that fits snugly over his shoulders and pecs.
I force myself to look away.
“Hi, Papa!” Bea says with a smile. “We’re going on the Métro!”
Jack halts with skepticism on his face. I hesitate to explain more before I remember this isn’t a bondage scenario where I answer in silent nods and shakes of my head. I have to actually explain to him where I’m taking his daughter.
After clearing my throat, I mumble, “Bea wants to go into the city. I’m taking her to the Jardin du Luxembourg. If that’s all right.”
“Of course,” he replies quietly.
“Come with us, Papa!” Bea chimes in before rushing over to his side and taking his hand in hers.
He stares down at her as if he’s just now meeting her, a glimmer of warmth in his eyes.
I can see him deliberating, and I wish I knew what was going on in his head. The reason—or is it fear?—that keeps him from wanting to be around her. Is he afraid that being around Bea will hurt, like losing his wife all over again? Is he filled with so much grief that he doesn’t even know how to love his own child anymore?
Either way, I just know the answer isn’t to avoid her and push her away.
“If it’s all right with your nanny,” he says before glancing up at me.
I’m struck as I open my mouth, unable to reply right away. “Uh…of course,” I say finally. “Doyouwant to take her? Just you two?”
“No,” he blurts out. “You should come.”
“Yes, you have to come, Camille,” Bea says sweetly.
“D’accord,” I reply under my breath.
Bea cheers, jumping in place as her father and I put on our shoes, getting ready to leave. I do everything in my power to avoid his eye contact. Normally, I can stare into his eyes and feel so comfortable, but right now…in this setting, I can’t possibly look at him.
We walk in silence down the street. Bea carries on with her usual chatter, holding my hand as Jack walks behind us. And when we board the Métro, he sits on the opposite side as she cuddles close to me.
Seeing him in this environment makes me laugh a little. I don’t suspect that Jack is the type to ride the Métro very often. He probably has personal drivers or takes taxis if he needs to get around, but I’ve always loved the city’s transit. This is what it was made for, so it feels like a privilege to use it.
His eyes find mine for a brief moment on the journey, and I quickly look away. My cheeks heat when his attention doesn’t shift, and I’m reminded of the things I said in that letter. Not that he hasn’t also said dirty, sexy things to me in his letters too. His first letter to me was the filthiest thing I’ve ever read. But that was a different time. That was before we found this new dynamic together. Before I became his bunny, and he became my rigger.
I feast on the sight of his ravishing smile, his gaze averted.
These past few weeks have been like watching Jack come into the light. Slowly, he’s emerging from the depths of wherever he’s been hiding. My overwhelming interest in him started as curiosity and has blossomed into something more. He’s not at all who I expected, and even now, the ice is slowly chipping away from that cold, brutal man I encountered when I started.
When we reach the park, Bea runs ahead of us in her sandy tweed coat and pink tights, eager to eat up the free space and sprawling pathways through the large garden. Geese scamper by as she chases them around an island of green grass and a stone statue.
This garden has always been my favorite. My father brought me here as a child, and I distinctly remember gasping in awe as we came upon the massive palm trees, uncharacteristically planted right in front of the old palace. Colors burst along the walkways in pink and purple flowers blooming in perfectly landscaped artistry.
Bea seems to be equally as enamored as she dashes ahead.
“Beatrice!” Jack calls in a panic when she slips around a hedge and out of sight. The moment she hears him call, she turns back and returns to where we can see her. I jog ahead to be closer to her, but the sound of his voice in such a fatherly, protective tone stays with me.
With Bea’s hand in mine, we meander our way through the park until we reach the large fountain where white sailboats are drifting across the water. Jack steps away and returns a moment later with one of the boats for Bea to sail. She sets it on the water with an enthusiastic giggle and a beaming smile.
