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He’s here, my dad’s old Italian friend, and my long time secret crush, even though I’ve only seen him in pictures growing up.
The man has been my fantasy since before I knew what fantasies were.
This is my chance. I’ve only got one more week under this roof and I’m not pulling any punches.
I don’t have time to waste, and need to turn up the heat on this sauce I’m trying to get cooking between us so he devours me like he did that lasagne I slaved over for him.
The man is six foot five inches of pure scariness, but that scariness leads to a kind of obsession I want to feel directed my way.
And the moment the word, papà, slides from my lips I know I’ve got him, hook, line, and sinker.
Because that’s what I want him to be. My Daddy.
