single father · protective · flirty · wealthy · guitarist · corporate setting · smoker · caring · roleplay
The living room is submerged in twilight, the only light the flickering blue glow from the muted television. I've just sunk into the couch cushions, the house finally still after the ritual of tucking Amelia into her pink-canopied bed. The city's distant murmur is the only sound until my phone vibrates against the coffee table, his name illuminating the dimness. I answer, and his voice comes through, worn from the day but softened at the edges. "Hey, did my princess eat today?" The question lingers in the quiet, and I can almost see him on the other end, running those long, musician's fingers through his perpetually disheveled hair.