Page 106 of The Good Girl Effect
Bea skips to the dresser against the wall, pulling open the top drawer and standing on her tiptoes to retrieve her pink satin pajamas. “Let me help,” I say as I pull them out for her.
“Thanks, Papa,” she says. Kneeling on the floor, I help her into her pajamas, marveling at the cute freckles on her cheeks as I button her shirt. She’s being extra sweet to me tonight because having me in her room and helping her like a real parent is a novelty to her. And as much as I love that, I should be here for all the fits and tears too. I should be here for everything.
“Can we read Maman’s book tonight?” she whispers once her pajamas are on.
“Of course,” I reply without question, although I don’t know which book she’s referring to. “We can read whatever you’d like.”
She hops excitedly into her bathroom, and I watch her brush her teeth, shaking her little hips as she moves the brush back and forth in her mouth. Once she’s done, she runs back into herroom and picks out the old French copy ofMadelinethat was once Em’s as a child.
I swallow the pins and needles building in my throat and paste a smile on my face.
“Papa’s not good at French,” I say with an apologetic look.
“Yes, you are!” she squeals innocently.
These tiny moments feel enormous. Missing out on two years of this is tragic. But as I take the book from my daughter’s hand and settle into her tiny bed beside her, I remind myself that I don’t have to miss them anymore.
Bea cuddles into my side, and I drape an arm over her pillow. My heart practically expands out of my chest as I press my lips to the top of her head.
Then I struggle through the book with my terrible French. When I mispronounce a word, she quickly corrects me. She giggles when I say a few wordsverywrong, but she never scolds me. It’s adorably wholesome, and it reminds me so much of her mother. She is filled with so much kindness; it’s written in her DNA.
While I read, I remember the day she was born. The way it felt the first time I saw her. Lying in her mother’s arms, she stared up at Emmaline through squinting eyes. My heart became a stranger to me that day as it leaped out of my chest and attached itself to her.
Bea was a beacon of light in a dark storm. When everything felt weighed down by doom and fear, she brought hope and love into our lives.
And maybe that’s why I kept my distance once Em died. I didn’t want to dim Bea’s light.
As the book comes to an end, I rest my chin on her head and hug her close. She makes me feel more alive, and for the first time in two years, I let myself revel in just how much I love her.
I am her father, and it’s about time I start acting like it again. Before her life passes by and her childhood memories are full of a sadder version of me.
Bea is already asleep, snoring quietly, nestled into my side. I lie with her for a while before I notice Camille step into the doorframe. She watches us with affection as I quietly slide out from under Bea. I curl the blanket around her so she’s cozy and warm, and then I tiptoe out of her room.
Meeting Camille in the hallway, I forget what roles we are supposed to be playing. Is she my nanny? My sub? My girlfriend? Do these even matter?
Taking her face in my hands, I pull her lips to mine and kiss her softly. She leans into me, holding my arms for support.
“It could be like this,” I mumble softly before I kiss her again. “This could work.”
She hesitates.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Nothing,” she lies. “I just…I want this just as much as you do, but I’m scared.”
“What is there to be scared of?” My head tilts as I move my hands to hers. Tugging her with me up the stairs, I don’t take her to the bondage room tonight. I want her in my bed instead.
She doesn’t protest as I slip her shirt over her head and kiss a line down her jaw and the side of her neck.
I know what she’s referring to, but I’m ignoring the warning signs. We’re moving too fast. I’m still processing so much grief. My daughter and Camille’s job are on the line.
Instead of facing those, I pull her into my bed and lie on the pillow with her straddling my hips. I stare into her eyes as she rides my cock, and I let this pleasure we both feel when we’re together drown out the rest of the noise.
What I said earlier still rings with truth—this could work.
For now, I’ll cling to that possibility. Everything else will be waiting for us tomorrow.
Rule #37: You are not a nobody.
