Daddy You Are Mine Forever
I turned, and for a second, I forgot how to breathe.
Julian was standing by a long marble kitchen island, a tablet in one hand and a glass of scotch in the other. He was forty-five now, but age had just sharpened him. His hair was starting to go silver at the temples, and he was wearing a navy blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up, showing off forearms that were still tan and muscled.
He looked at me, and I saw the exact moment the "little girl" image in his head died.