Page 59 of Craving My Baby Daddy Billionaire

I finish writing the list and hang up the phone, turning around to face Sophia. "My parents are coming home in a few hours," I tell her. "I need to get some stuff organized around the house."

Sophia gives me a reassuring smile and takes the notepad and pen from my hand. "Don't worry, we'll get everything ready for them." She pulls me in for a kiss, and suddenly, I forget about the stress of my parents' return.

It's going to be okay.

It has to be okay.

We spend the morning preparing the downstairs bedroom for my parents, moving furniture and making sure everything is clean. As we work, I can't help but marvel at how lucky I am to have Sophia by my side. She's always so calm and level-headed, even in the face of stress. I can't stop thinking about that first night I spent with her—watching her fight off a mugger, acting like everything was perfectly fine.

And with her, everythingisfine.

Fuck, I'm so in love with her.

We have the room all set up by noon, and shortly after, we hear the sound of a car coming up the drive. The dogs hear the car first, and all three of them stand on the back of the couch to look out the window. Wes—my dad's best friend—starts whining, his nose pressed to the glass, while Tex runs back and forth from us to the door.

"I know, guys," I laugh, prepared to hold back the dogs so they don't hurt my dad. "Let's keep it calm."

"Do you want me to stay and hold back the dogs or go out to help them?" Sophia asks.

"You go out—I'll wrangle these three," I say.

I work on getting the dogs wrangled up and shut in the downstairs bathroom, and I come back to see Sophia through the window, smiling and holding onto one of my dad's elbows with a backpack over her shoulder, my mom on his other side.

I smile at the sight, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. My dad looks tired, but he's smiling, too, as Sophia helps him walk up the steps to the porch. As they get closer, I open the door, taking the backpack from Sophia's hand and embracing my dad in a tight hug.

"Welcome home, Dad," I say. "We've got the downstairs bedroom all set up for you."

He's so wobbly on his feet—I've never seen him look so old, and while I'm happy to see him, his frailty messes with me a bit.

"Thank you," he says, his words a little disjointed.

"We really appreciate it, Ry," my mom says. I give her a hug, and she looks up at me with tired eyes. "It's been a long few days."

She looks over at my dad.

"Ike, do you want to go straight to bed or spend some time in the living room? I think it's cool enough to get the fire started."

"That would be nice," he says, his voice weak.

Sophia is the one who takes charge and helps him over to the couch, the dogs barking from the bathroom the whole time.

"Where's Wes?" Dad asks.

"I was just holding them back so they don't trip you up," I say with a sympathetic smile. "I'll go get them—you ready for that golden energy?"

He smiles—a soft smile compared to his usual wide grin. "I've missed them."

I can't believe it. My dad has always been the picture of health, active and lively. It's hard to imagine him having any sort of health problems, let alone to see him having a difficult time walking and talking and smiling.

But I guess that's getting older.

I head to the bathroom to let the dogs out, and they come bounding out, wagging their tails furiously. Wes immediately heads over to Dad, resting his head on his lap and whining softly. Dad reaches down and strokes his head, a small smile on his lips.

"It's good to see you, too," he says softly.

My mom puts down a water bottle on the side table beside my dad and then looks at me and Sophia. "Tea?"

"That would be lovely," Sophia says. "Do you need any help?"

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