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Lucy's eyes widen as she giggles, "Are you going to kiss?"
I feel a jolt of surprise, my pulse kicking up a notch. My body responds in kind, warmth spreading across my skin at the thought. It's a dream that I should only indulge in solitude, not standing here under Sophie's gaze.
"I think your imagination is running wild, sweetheart," I manage, shooting an apologetic look at Sophie. "Come on now, it's time for bed."
Lucy opens her mouth to protest, but I quickly scoop her up in my arms.
"Wait here, please," I tell Sophie, my voice barely above a whisper, before carrying Lucy toward her bedroom.
I tuck her into bed, planting a soft kiss on her forehead.
"Want a bedtime story?" I ask, hoping to distract her.
"No, Dad," she smiles, her eyes sleepy. "Go. Sophie's waiting."
A lump forms in my throat as I listen to her words. She's too young to understand, but I know I have to tell her. Tell her that Sophie is just her nanny, not her mother. That she can't replace the void in Lucy's heart, no matter how much we might wish it.
But as I look at her, her smile full of hope and innocence, I can't bring myself to shatter that illusion. Not tonight. I know she yearns for a mother, for someone to share her world with.
But tonight, I just can't bear to break her heart. So, I press a final kiss to her forehead, promise her a story tomorrow, and walk away, the weight of the world heavy on my shoulders.
My duty as a father, as a cop and as a man is to keep my little girl safe and ensure she stays happy. To ensure that her world, unlike mine, remains uncomplicated.
With these thoughts echoing in my mind, I close the door behind me gently. I know now what I have to do.
As much as I hate it, I need to let Sophie go. She's invaded my thoughts, my dreams, my reality. The attraction is undeniable, but the dangers are too severe.
I need to protect my heart and my daughter. I can't let my little girl hope for something I fear will never happen.
The stairs creak under my weight, protesting my indecision and inner turmoil. The living room is bathed in a soft, mellow glow, and there she is.
Sophie is curling her hair around a finger, and it only makes her seem so naturally endearing, so incredibly beautiful. She's a captivating painting that people would pay millions just to admire.
My uniform feels tight, constraining. The sweat prickling on my brow seems to anticipate the conversation that's about to happen.
"Sophie," I call out, my voice betraying my nervousness.
Her head snaps in my direction, her smile bright.
"Yes? Is everything alright?".
Her question hangs in the air between us.
My mind screams what I need to do, the words I need to say. But as I open my mouth, nothing comes out. Sophie walks towards me, our bodies almost touching.
Her scent is intoxicating, making my resolution waver. She's so close that I can see her chest rise and fall with each breath, her orange blouse accentuating her beautiful curves.
"Would you like some tea?" The words that slip out are not what I had planned.
Her brows furrow, surprise evident on her face. But she nods, a soft "Sure" escaping her lips. We walk into the kitchen, a comfortable silence settling around us.
"Lemon tea, okay?" I ask, trying to steady my shaky hands.
"That's my favorite," she beams, her happiness radiating and brightening the room.
I manage a smile, confessing it's the only one I have, that I haven’t had time to shop for more.
"Do you think you'll need me often?" She asks, her words hanging heavy in the air.
