Page 45 of The Good Girl Effect
She has school today, and since I stayed up far too late with Jack in thebondage room—as I’m calling it now—I am feeling a little sleep-deprived this morning. It didn’t help that I could hardly sleep after our session ended, too strung out and excited about this new dynamic between us. Sitting down next to Bea with my espresso, I try to wake up.
While she eats, I hear footsteps on the stairs, and I freeze. Bea does too.
Then we both turn at the same time to find Jack standing in the doorway to the kitchen in a nice dark blue suit, freshly showered with wet hair and the scent of aftershave wafting into the room.
He never comes down to the kitchen in the morning.
“Morning, Papa,” Bea says with a guarded expression.
“Morning, Bea,” he replies. Then his eyes find mine.
After last night, seeing him in the daylight feels like staring into the sun. It burns with intensity and a hint of awkwardness, and I know I should look away.
Regardless, I promised him that I could keep things professional. I swore to him in that letter that I could put up a boundary between day and night activities. And I need to prove that to him.
So I quickly stand from the table.
“Sit down. I can make you breakfast.”
“I have a meeting to get to,” he replies.
“Coffee then?”
Staring at him intently, I let my eyes dance over to Bea, hoping it conveys to him that he needs to do this for his daughter.
I think he gets the message because he takes a deep breath and walks over to the table. Sitting down in the seat next to her, he glances at me expectantly.
“How do you want me—I mean it. How do you want it? Your coffee I mean,” I stammer, rubbing a hand over my tired eyes.
Bea giggles at me as I stumble over my words, and when I glance over at the both of them, I see Jack’s mouth twitch with a threatening smirk.
“An Americano, please,” he replies with a grumble.
Just hearing him ask for something fills me with purpose and excitement. I rush over to the machine, quickly preparing his coffee while he and Bea sit in awkward silence behind me. When I glance back, I notice him staring at her with adoration as she eats her breakfast.
He loves his daughter. I believe that. He just struggles to show it.
A moment later, I’m passing the Americano to him. Our fingers brush and his eyes meet mine as he mumbles, “Thank you.”
Bea smiles up at him, her legs still kicking back and forth under her chair. Jack’s movements are stiff and uncomfortable, his shoulders tense as he takes a sip from the cup.
It’s not perfect. It’s not even great. But it’s progress. And that’s something.
As I clean the dishes in the sink, I realize for the first time I might actually be able to help this family. Maybe I’m here for more than just watching Bea and learning something kinky and new from Jack. I might actually make a difference in their lives.
At this moment, I think about the woman in the photo. And call it fate or divine intervention, but it’s almost like she left that letter for me on purpose. I can repair her family in her absence.
Rule #14: Don’t be afraid to prove how good you are.
Camille
On my way back from taking Bea to school, I get lost in a daydream, thinking about last night. This discovery has filled me with new life. Especially when I still have so much I’ve yet to experience.
Jack St. Claire is gorgeous, rich, and older—and the one person I can’t get involved with.
For one, he’s far out of my league. Two, he’s still grieving his late wife.
And three, I’m his daughter’s nanny.
