Texting My Dad’s Best Friend Read Online Flora Ferrari

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Insta-Love, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 46202 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 231(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
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But mostly, I remember the good times. The heat which led to the love, the passion, and the commitment which led to little Jamie bobbing up and down on my knee.

Keeping one hand braced on my son, I pick up my phone and text back one-handed.

I love watching you do anything.

She’s got her back turned to me, but I can see her looking down at her phone. She tenses up as though flooding with all our love, then my phone vibrates a few moments later.

I’ll keep that in mind later. I’ve got to focus now. Love you. XXXXX

I love you more. XXXXX

I place my phone down, laughing when Jamie makes another cute noise.

Standing, I cradle him in my arms, rocking him softly.

“It’s okay, little man,” I whisper, feeling love flow between us, an endless ocean of it. “You’re safe. You’re loved. We’re going to be here for you, every step of the way, supporting you.”

He burps as if telling me, Stop being so serious, Daddy.

I laugh again.

TEN YEARS LATER

Danielle

“That sounds good to me,” I say, holding the phone to my ear as I stand at the kitchen window.

“Okay, great,” Janine says.

She’s my newest intern, and she’s always putting in the extra effort, trying to make our clients as successful as possible.

It makes me so proud to know that I can offer a helping hand the same way I was offered one.

It’s still a business, of course. We still have to choose the best people.

But it’s like Damien said when our love was first forming.

Sometimes a person just needs a chance.

“You’re doing a great job,” I tell her. “I couldn’t be happier. Keep going like this, and this time next year, you’ll be choosing your own projects, earning commission, and making a real life for yourself.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Drake,” she says. “Really.”

I smile, not bothering to correct her. I’ve told her countless times she can call me Danielle. But I also love to hear my name said like that, with Damien’s surname, our name.

It reminds me of this amazing life I’ve somehow, blessedly landed, and I’m never tired of being reminded of that.

After the phone call, I look out into the yard.

Damien’s standing on the other side of the pool, a drink in his hand, laughing at something Dad’s saying. Dad’s got a big grin on his face, and then he claps Damien on the back.

My heart glows so much when I see them like this, their friendship unbreakable.

Dad chuckles and spins around when Jamie sneaks up behind him with the water pistol, tall Jamie with his black hair and his dad’s eyes. Luke joins in on the action, our eight-year-old springing out from behind the bushes.

Soon, Maddie and Juliet are on the scene.

Our three and five-year-olds hold their water pistols a little clumsier than their older siblings. Maddie totters along, waving hers in the air. Everybody says she reminds them of me when I was her age, with her brown hair and my eyes.

They run around the garden, Dad giving them a good chase and then sweeping around, lifting Luke off his feet. Luke laughs, his face a picture of pure glee as Dad hauls him over his shoulder, and then Dad takes the water pistol and lets him go.

Luke throws his hands up and runs away, everybody laughing as Dad chases them around.

Then my gaze moves to Damien.

He’s watching me, a gentle smile on his face, still as handsome, strong, firm, supportive, and protective and mine as the day he proposed to me, with his thick chest pressing through his shirt. He’s got some silver stubble across his strong jaw now, catching the sunlight.

With his smile widening, he reaches into his pocket and takes out his phone. I laugh as I squeeze onto mine tighter, remembering the beginning.

In my bedroom, me having no clue if he felt the same or if he could feel the same.

It gets me every time, seeing them like this.

Me too. I text back.

Why are you hiding away? Get out here.

Maybe I just like texting you.

Well, I’ve sent a spy. She should be with you any second.

“Mommy, Daddy wants to know why you’re hiding away,” Simone says from behind me.

I turn to find our eight-year-old – Luke’s twin – with a big smile on her face. She’s got her dark hair braided over her shoulder and a book in her hand.

“And he sent you to spy on me, did he?” I laugh.


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