Color Me Pretty: A Father's Best Friend Romance

“And why is that?”

A shoulder lifted as he glanced at me in the mirror again. “You two are the kind of people that others inspire to be like. They want fairytales, not ghost stories.”

“Who says we’re a fairytale?”

“You’ve loved her for a long time.”

“Not like—”

“Exactly, boss. You’ve loved her in a thousand different ways. That kind of love is the well-rounded story people want. You don’t only see her as some young girl who looks up to you. You see her for what she grew into. You’re supportive and protective and willing to do anything for her, just like her parents would have wanted.”

“I doubt Anthony would have been okay with what I’m doing with his daughter, Dallas,” I mused dryly.

He laughed softly. “Probably not. But, not to be disrespectful, he isn’t around to tell you not to. He made his bed and doesn’t have a say in how you and Della make yours.”

I let that sink in for a moment. “You think it really wouldn’t matter to people?”

“I think hope goes a long way.”

“Hope?”

A head bob. “That Adele Saint James can get her happily ever after with someone she’s always had by her side. The general public knows she isn’t like her family. They’re rooting for her.”

I found that hard to believe. Not that they’d root for her, but that they’d do the same for us. But maybe I was a cynic and wanted to think I didn’t deserve the same ending because I was struggling to accept the story changed. The endgame seemed pointless to fight though because our narrative never drifted. The one where I’ve loved Della her entire life.

I was just going to love her ten times harder for the rest of mine.

“Sir?” he said cautiously. When I didn’t answer, he chose to continue. “You’ve always been there for her, but when everything comes to light, she’ll need you.”

“I know, Dallas.”

“All of you.”

All of you.

Blowing out a quiet breath, I found myself nodding to the window. “She already has all of me.”

I was met by silence.

And that fucking smile.

Seeing the lean blonde sprawled across the bed on her stomach had the tightness in my chest disappearing in a millisecond. All it took was one look at those long, tan legs and I was done. Walking around the side, I sat on the edge and moved the hair away from her face which was buried into her pillow, one arm wrapped around it while the other was somewhere under the blanket she was twisted in.

She stirred when I brushed my fingers along her cheek, letting out a little breathy moan that sounded like my name. After a few seconds, she turned her head and fluttered her tired eyes open until they found mine. “Theo?” Sitting up, she moved hair out of her face and looked at the clock on her nightstand. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“You must have needed it.” Her bottom lip drew into her mouth. With a shrug, she swiped her eyelids with her fisted hands, and that was when I realized they were puffy. “You’ve been crying.”

“I—”

“And don’t try lying about it.” Situating myself so I sat beside her with my back against her headboard, I crossed one ankle over the other and watched her. “Dallas told me.”

She frowned. “He’s such a tattletale.”

I chuckled. “He’s doing his job.”

“So, you’re finally admitting it?”

I quirked my brow.