Dads come in all shapes and forms. In I Do. . . or Die, Shelby's father is a gigolo, and he's dropped in for a surprise visit, right after Shelby broke up with Ryan, a man she pushed out of her life before he had a chance to break her heart.
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He was a handsome man, which goes without saying, since it was practically a gigolo job requirement. His hair was still mostly dark, but with the distinguished silver on the sides like a matinee idol. He wore a dark grey suit, probably Armani, since it was his fave. A gorgeous silk tie and shiny black shoes completed the “man of leisure” persona.
He sat in one of my wing chairs, his legs crossed, and his fingers steepled in front of him, as if he was posing for a GQ ad. I couldn’t exactly miss the elegant silver watch that was most likely a “gift” from one of his “friends”.
I sighed, not sure I was emotionally ready for a visit with my father just then.
“How on earth did you get in?”
His dark eyes just gave me a piteous look.
“Oh, that’s right, you must still have a key.”
That earned me another pitiful look. Being a gigolo clearly required more skills than I realized.
“So what brings you here, Daddy?”
I tried to recall when I’d seen him last, but my mental calendar went through several months without anything remotely resembling “Visit from Father” written on it. I wasn’t upset. It was typical of his visits.
Unplanned.
Unexpected.
Unusual.
“I was quite concerned for you, dearest. And I was between, well, situations, so I came to visit my favorite daughter.”
I nearly had to hold up a hand to fend off the high wattage from his perfect teeth.
“I’m your only child!” I inhaled to calm myself down, but my frustration needed an outlet. “And why do you have a British accent? You’re from Pennsylvania!”
His eyes lowered, and I could see him shake his head slightly, as if I was a disappointment to him.
Me? A disappointment? He was a gigolo for God’s sake. And it looked like I might be following in his footsteps. Sure, it would be great to get free swag from people who thought you were all that. But I knew I wanted more. Even if I didn’t realize it until after one amazing incredible mind-blowing night with Ryan—
I sniffed, doing my best to keep the flood of tears at bay. Life was so unfair just then. And worse, it was my fault that I was feeling like this.
Daddy merely opened his arms. I couldn’t help myself. I needed his comfort, and he was happy to provide it unconditionally, despite my prickly comments.
I curled up in his embrace, grateful for the warmth and his genuine concern. I sniffled, unable to believe I’d let my heart get broken like this. I’d spent my entire adult life barricading it, shoring it up against any such break-in, pretty much acting like a female lothario when it came to getting involved.
I bit back a cry. Daddy wrapped his arms tighter, crooning something to soothe me, which almost made me start sobbing.
“Darling, why don’t we get some take-away—”
I lifted my head to scowl at him.
He cleared his throat, and his accent was gone. “Okay, okay. Let’s call for some take-out.”
“That’s better,” I said in a shaky voice. I laid my head against his chest and sighed.
He squeezed me tightly. “And you can tell me all your troubles, so we can see what to do to fix them.”
~~~~~
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