Page 31 of Daddy's Little 1

Brenna smiles through her tears. “How about we forgive each other?”

“Sounds good to me. Still love me?” he asks with an edge of uncertainty.

“Do you even have to ask? You’re the one who taught me never to give up, especially on the ones I love.”

“Good. Because the other stubborn, obstinate old bastard in your life wants to ask you something.” James tips his head toward me.

Brenna’s gaze swings to me, and her eyes widen as I kneel in front of her, the ring held out like an offering.

“Oh, my gosh. What is all—” Her hand flies to her mouth. “Mom’s ring,” she whispers from behind her hand.

I nod. “You wanted to know where this was going, and I didn’t answer you with what was in my heart. I answered with the same pain you were feeling. The pain of James not being a part of it. Now, I ask you in front of him, with all the love I have in my heart for you, will you do me the honor of becoming my all, my everything. Forever?”

“Yes. Yes!” Brenna nods and reaches for me, her emotions too much.

I thank my lucky stars for this.

For the universe for finally showing me that it’s her I've been waiting for all along.

Epilogue

Roman

One YearLater

Brenna is avoiding me. She never avoids me, even when I drive her nuts. She always ends up underneath or above me with my cock buried inside her.

But not for the last two days.

I’ve barely seen her, and it’s turning me into a grumpy fucker. My need for my wife hasn’t waned in the last year. If anything, it’s grown.

When I video-called James earlier today to ask him if she’d said anything to him, his smirking reply was, “Maybe my Bumble has finally woken up and realized she doesn’t want to be with you. Perhaps she’s considering divorcing you and coming back to me.”

James and I haven’t quite slipped back into our old friendship because the dynamic of our relationship has changed. Not necessarily for the worse; it’s simply different. I married his daughter. I’m now his son-in-law, something he likes to remind me of at every opportunity because the eejit thinks it makes him the boss of me.

Fat fucking chance.

“Fuck you, bawsack,” I sniped, a Scottish variation he was very familiar with.

“Tut, tut. That’s no way to speak to your father-in-law,” James said, shaking his head. “I’m disappointed in you, son. I expected better for my daughter.”

He didn’t mean it. He just did it to get a rise out of me. He knows I treat Brenna like a fucking queen.

So, yeah. James was no fucking help.

The last year with my baby girl has been nothing short of amazing. We spend the weekends visiting art museums and dining at fancy restaurants, although we’re equally as happy at home, snuggled up on the couch watching a movie.

I tell Brenna how the business is going—I’m in the process of opening a new bar—and she shares her art with me. I set up a studio for her in one of the spare rooms, a spacious area with the best natural lighting in the condo, which she loves. Her ambition is to show her work in one of the art galleries in the city, and I have no doubt my talented wife will achieve this.

Brenna is passionate and animated, and I’m happy I get to spend the rest of my life listening to her talk about the subjects that interest her. And fucking her. Which I do…a lot.

She can’t get enough, and my cock loves her for it. And it’s definitely mutual. I’ve never been as sexually compatible with anyone as I am with my beautiful wife. Sometimes it’s rough and dirty. Sometimes slow and tender. But always mind-blowing. Having her be my baby girl and hearing her scream “Daddy” in the bedroom has freed me up to enjoy sex in ways I never imagined. But it’s not just about the act itself; it’s the emotions that come with it. The sense of belonging. Of accepting each other for who we are.

Every day, I try to prove how much she means to me with actions instead of words. How much I love her. In return, Bren is always touching me, small gestures like curling her fingers around mine or running her palms over my beard, which she loves—especially when it’s buried between her thighs.

And since we’re each other’s world, it fucks me up that she’s avoiding me.

So when I walk through the door after a long day at work, I’m ready for answers.