Page 41 of Breakaway Daddies

“She wants to meet you. How about you tag along with me?” His words hang in the air, carrying both expectation and hope.

I let out a breathless laugh, trying to mask the flutter of nerves. “Bruno, I—” I start, but he cuts me off gently.

“She already knows you’re living with us,” he adds quickly, a small, almost shy smile playing at the edges of his lips. “She’s curious about you. Thought maybe you’d wanna come.”

I hesitate, not out of reluctance but because I sense the significance this holds for him. This invitation is more than just dinner; it’s a step deeper into his world.

But despite the swirl of emotions, I find myself nodding, the decision settling easily in my chest.

“Yeah,” I say, my voice steady and sure. “I’d like that.”

One thing at a time. “Just a warning,” I tease, folding the last of the fresh-smelling laundry into a neat stack, “I might not be able to eat much tonight. Still haven’t been feeling great.”

Bruno frowns, his eyebrows knitting together. “You should really get checked out,” he says, his voice carrying a gentle insistence.

I halt, my fingers pausing mid-fold for just a second as my heart skips a beat.He doesn’t know, I remind myself, trying to calm the sudden rush of anxiety.He just thinks it’s a stubborn stomach bug.

“I will,” I say quickly, plastering a smile on my face as I force my hands to resume their task. “I’ve just been busy.”

Bruno crosses his arms over his chest, his biceps stretching the fabric of his T-shirt, and gives me that skeptical, broody look that always makes me squirm.

“Jinx,” he says, his tone a mix of teasing and concern

I huff, rolling my eyes in mock exasperation. “Fine, I’ll make an appointment. Happy?” I retort, hoping to deflect his worry.

He wants to smile but holds it back, the lines of his lips cracking into a muted laugh, the seriousness not quite lifting from his eyes. “Good,” he replies, a hint of relief dulling his tone.

For now, I push the thoughts aside and focus on preparing for dinner with his grandmother, letting the comforting routine of the evening distract me from the uncertainties ahead.

I spend the next couple of hours preparing, aware that tonight I’ll be under intense scrutiny.

Bruno’s grandmother, the sole surviving member of his family, holds an important place in his heart. He insists she’s sweet, but I know how crucial a good first impression can be.

I slip into a comfortable white sweater dress that hugs my curves in just the right places without being too tight. It stops just above my knees, perfectly balancing elegance and my personal style.

I pair it with black suede knee-high boots that complement the dress and sheer pantyhose.

For jewelry, I opt for simplicity: silver accents adorned with real opals, my birthstone, that catch the light subtly. My nails, painted a rich dark wine red, match the newly dyed deep burgundy of my hair; one of my more subdued shades.

Descending the stairs, I spot Bruno in the living room, fiddling with the clasp of his watch. When he finally glances up, his eyes widen and his jaw drops slightly, unable to conceal his admiration.

“Wow,” he exhales, rising to his feet, his dark eyes tracing every detail of my outfit.

I smile nervously, giving a playful spin to showcase the ensemble. “Think I’ll pass Grandma’s inspection?”

His tongue flicks out to dampen his lips, and I can’t help but notice the way his gaze lingers appreciatively on my legs. “She might just love you more than me.”

From the couch, Thomas releases a low whistle of appreciation. “Damn. Now I’m a little jealous.”

Rowan, with a protective stance and arms crossed, adds, “You’d better treat our girl right tonight, Bru.”

Bruno grins, his arm snaking around my waist as he gently pulls me toward the door. “Don’t worry, boys. She’s in good hands.”

We drive through the city, the lights fading away behind us as we roll through grassy plains and rugged forests. Bruno drums his fingers rhythmically on the steering wheel, stealing a glance in my direction.

“You’re nervous,” he observes, breaking the silence.

“Of course I’m nervous,” I confess, my voice tinged with vulnerability. “I’ve never met a guy’s family before.”

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