Patricia

Ray has my heart. You know how you can fall in love with a child the moment you lay eyes on them? The eight-year-old is full of energy. A cascade of golden curls frames her adorable face. Her dazzling brown eyes sparkle with inquisitiveness, and her contagious smile exudes happiness. Her gentle demeanour conveys an inherent sense of kindness and respect in every gesture, and she moves with grace and laughter that dances freely in the air.

Her father, on the other hand, is a single billionaire who radiates confidence and power. He is the epitome of sophistication and success. He effortlessly commands attention due to his height, impeccable grooming, and designer suits that highlight his chiselled features.

His calm manner suggests a nuance beneath his opulent exterior, while his intense, piercing gaze conveys intelligence and resolve. In the social scene, he is an intriguing yet mysterious figure because, despite his wealth and status, there seems to be a void or a sense of loneliness that seems masked. He is a workaholic who is often deeply engrossed in work, spending long hours focused on his job.

As I pull out of the driveway heading to the supermarket, thoughts of the delightful cookies for Rachel and the ingredients for our upcoming banana bread swirl in my mind. The memory of Tony attempting no-contact wrestling brings an unexpected burst of laughter.

Contemplating an evening movie, I wonder about Bryan's availability. It is depressing that he will not go out, even for a straightforward movie date, especially since I foot the majority of the bill. I should be the reluctant person here. I text him, suggesting we watch a movie together, but he quickly responds by saying he is busy. I sent a follow-up playful text about video games, but I got no response, so I am already preparing an apology for my acerbic remarks.

As I walk into the supermarket, my first stop is the fruit section. I inspect the bananas in front of me, looking to see the ones that will be perfect for my recipe, and as I find them, I add them to the basket I picked up as I entered. I walk down the baking aisle and pick up flour, eggs, and brown sugar, and then I select a couple of nuts, both almonds and walnuts. I select raisins and shredded coconuts, and I select chocolates and chocolate chips because I don’t know what her favourite topping will be.

I walk to the spice section and add cinnamon to my basket. I simply adore the flavour and aroma it gives the banana bread, and I cannot help but imagine how the kitchen will smell while the bread bakes and how delicious it will be. I walk over to the different aisles to select all the ingredients I need before making my way to the check-out counter. I envision the comforting scent of freshly baked banana bread wafting through the kitchen. The anticipation of sharing this joy with Ray fills me with eagerness.

Paying for the groceries using Mr. Jordan's card, I head back to the grand mansion, reflecting on the past three days spent with Ray. Grateful for her amiable nature, I can't help but feel an unexpected fondness for the girl. I find myself caught between dreams of a future with Bryan, imagining a child in our lives, and the painful truth I can't ignore. Deep inside, I know I don't want Bryan to be the father of my children. I'm terrified he'll repeat the same hurt I've known, leaving both me and our child with emotional scars. Even with this knowledge burning within me, I struggle to break free from him.

As I head home, the evening descends like a soft veil over the bustling city. Streetlights flickered to life, casting a warm glow on the pavement.

Sunday rolls in, and Ray's excitement is palpable.

“It’s time for us to make banana bread and cookies,” I announce, feeling Ray's contagious enthusiasm.

"Yippee!" Ray cheers, brimming with anticipation.

"What can I do?” Ray eagerly asks.

"First, let’s wash our hands and put on our apron,” I say. Together, we gather all the ingredients needed for our baking adventure.

Assigning Ray small tasks like mashing bananas and whisking eggs, her bright eyes sparkle with each accomplishment, and I lavish her with praise.

“Good job,” I encourage her as we prepare the baking pans and pop our creations into the oven. The aromatic scents filling the kitchen stir our excitement.

I carefully lift the freshly baked banana bread off the pan, placing it on a plate. The banana bread looks delicious. We've created two types. One is chocolate banana bread covered in chocolate and chocolate chips, while the other is plain banana bread decorated with raisins, nuts, and shredded coconut as toppings.

When the timer rings, Ray claps eagerly, and we retrieve our freshly baked goodies. Slicing into the banana bread reveals its moist interior, perfectly baked.

"This is the best banana bread I’ve ever tasted,” Ray gleefully exclaims.

Her happiness is contagious and brings a smile to my face.

"Do you think your father will like some, so we can save some for him?” I ask, just as Mr. Jordan walks in.

"Daddy, you have to taste this banana bread that Pat made; it’s really the best," Ray insists, excitedly offering him a slice.

"Alright, the aroma brought me here anyway."

Savoring both types, Mr. Jordan expresses his delight, and I graciously thank him for his kind words.

"So what do you think, Daddy? It’s the best, isn’t it?"

"Yes, it’s perfect.” He says this, looking at me, and I mutter thank you, appreciating the compliment.

"So which one is your favourite? I love love love the chocolate one," she beams.

“I love, love, love the nutty one."

"That's just because you’re an old man who doesn’t really like chocolates,” Ray says, laughing, and her father joins in too. I couldn’t help but chuckle along. They seem like a nice pair.

I'm thrilled to have brought smiles to both the father and daughter's faces! There's nothing more heartwarming than seeing their joy and happiness. Mr. Jordan turns to me with a gaze that feels entirely unfamiliar as he sees the sheer joy on his daughter's face, a momentary shift from his usual demeanour. However, it vanishes almost instantly, leaving me questioning its meaning.