Page 149 of The Daddy’s Girl

With that, I hang up the phone and turn toward my friend. He appears so angry all the time now. As if he can’t stand the sight of me.

“The architect should be here shortly,” he says lowly, and I nod in response. “Was that Amelia?”

My head snaps up. That is the first time he’s even mentioned her to me since last month and, honestly, the first casual thing he’s asked me.

“Yes,” I reply.

There’s a hint of sadness in his eyes, and I feel it like a punch to my gut. She calls me now instead of him, and I’d be a heartless man if I didn’t recognize how much that must hurt.

“She’s getting ready for her show on Saturday,” I add. “I hope you’ll come.”

“Of course I’ll come. She’s my daughter.”

I don’t respond, glancing down at my feet. “I’m trying to give her space, Ronan. I promise I am. And I’m going to dedicate everything I have to this club, just like you want. So please, can’t you just⁠—”

Just then, a child turns the corner, scampering ahead of his father close behind, pushing a pram with a look of alarm and exhaustion on his face.

He calls for the child, who nearly careens with my legs. As I glance down at him, seeing wonder and innocence in his eyes, a smile stretches across my face.

The boy giggles at me before turning back toward his father. He wraps his tiny hand around the man’s finger and walks obediently by his side.

I can’t seem to tear my eyes away, watching as they meet up with a woman on the other side of the street. She’s holding a little girl on her hip, and I hardly understand how it’s possible to have so many small children at once. They must be exhausted.

When I feel Ronan’s eyes on my face, I realize that I am still grinning at the small family as they disappear down the cobblestone street. Catching myself, I clear my throat and hide my smile.

Moments later, the architect arrives. We walk him through the building, giving our ideas and changes we’d like to see, but the entire time, my heart isn’t in it. I’m still thinking about that family.

That father.

And that’s when it hits me.

I am not supposed to be here.

This is not my journey.

We each shake the man’s hand as he takes our ideas and heads out, promising to give us a quote and a new blueprint by the end of the month.

As for me, the truth weighs heavily on my heart, and I feel the moment of speaking it growing imminently closer.

“We’ll meet tomorrow morning to discuss the next steps in our plan,” Ronan says. He seems tired, rubbing his forehead, and I start to wonder if this animosity is growing heavy on him too.

As he turns his back on me, I take a step toward him. “Ronan, stop.”

He halts, pausing to wait for me to continue.

“I can’t do this.”

He turns. “Do what?”

“The club. London. Moving away. I can’t do it.”

His brow furrows and worry deepens the wrinkles in his face. “Because of us?”

With a heavy breath, I shake my head. “Because of her.”

He’s frozen in place, still as stone as his eyes narrow, trying to gauge my sincerity.

So I continue. “This isn’t my future. I can’t explain it, but this club doesn’t feel right for me. I know you think we’re wrong for what we did, but I see a future with someone like I’ve never seen before, and while I’m sure someday she would follow me, I’m too scared to leave her now and risk the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me.” I take another step toward him. “It’s more than just missing her, but it’s like I’ve found a new reason…a new dream…and I’m sorry, but this club isn’t it.”