Page 42 of Breakaway Daddies

His eyebrows arch in surprise. “Never?”

I shake my head, feeling the weight of my admission. “Never gotten this serious with anyone before.”

The words linger in the air between us, heavier than I anticipated. I rub my palms over my dress, trying to dispel the anxious energy.

“It’s weird, I guess. I don’t really know how to do this.”

Bruno’s hand shifts to rest on my thigh, offering a gentle squeeze of reassurance. “You’re gonna do great.”

I turn to him, drawn in by the warmth radiating from his deep brown eyes. It’s a comfort that seeps into my bones, unraveling the knot of nerves in my stomach, if only slightly.

We turn into a narrow driveway, the tires crunching on the gravel, leading up to a quaint, old-fashioned house. The porch light casts a welcoming glow against the dusky sky, reminiscent of my Grandma Lily’s home, the sole sanctuary of safety in my family.

Bruno catches the change in my expression. “You okay?” he asks.

I nod, drawing in a deep breath to steady myself. “Yeah.” Then, a grin breaks across my face as I add, “Let’s do this.”

CHAPTERTHIRTEEN

Jinx

The moment we step inside,the cozy warmth of Bruno’s grandmother’s home wraps around us.

She immediately sweeps me into a hug, her arms strong yet gentle, and I have to admit—it’s nice. Her scent is a comforting mix of cinnamon and a floral perfume, like a comforting potpourri.

She pats my back with a tenderness that makes me feel welcome, then pulls away just enough to scrutinize me with kind, twinkling eyes.

“You’re even prettier than Bruno said,” she declares in a thick Slovak accent, her voice rich with genuine warmth. “And you have good taste, too,” she adds, nodding approvingly at my white cable-knit dress.

I laugh, a pleasant warmth spreading through my chest like a gentle fire. “Thank you. I try,” I reply, feeling a bit more at home.

She ushers us into the dining room, where a breathtaking feast is laid out. The table is full of dishes: bryndzové halušky, little potato dumplings smothered in creamy sheep’s cheese and topped with crispy bacon; kapustnica, a rich sauerkraut soup dotted with hearty chunks of smoked sausage; roast duck with a glossy, caramelized skin, nestled beside tangy red cabbage; and for dessert, a makový závin, a poppy seed roll that sends a heavenly aroma wafting through the room.

Bruno pulls out a chair for me, his hand brushing mine for a moment, and I sit, determined to at least try everything laid out before us. But as enticing as the spread is, my stomach twists with nerves, and though the food smells divine, my appetite is stubbornly absent.

I take small, cautious bites, each chew deliberate as I focus on keeping everything settled in my stomach.

Meanwhile, Bruno’s grandmother launches into an animated story, her hands gesturing expressively as she recalls how Bruno once broke into a neighbor’s barn as a curious child, convinced there was hidden treasure inside.

Her eyes dance with mischief as she recounts how the startled farmer mistook him for a thief and nearly shot him before Bruno managed to stammer out a panicked explanation.

Bruno groans, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “Babika, please,” he pleads with both amusement and exasperation.

His grandmother winks at me, her smile broad and knowing. “He was always trouble,” she teases, her affection for him evident.

I smile back, feeling the tension in my shoulders ease, and let myself relax into the warmth of the evening.

After dinner, we move into the cozy living room. Bruno’s grandmother, a petite woman with silvery hair tied in a neat bun, gestures toward a small half-bathroom tucked at the end of the hallway.

“Bruno, the sink is dripping again. Go tighten it,” she instructs in a firm yet affectionate tone.

Bruno lets out a long sigh, rising from his chair and rolling up the sleeves of his plaid shirt with a resigned expression. “Babika, when will you let me buy you a new sink? That thing never stops dripping!”

“Ah, Bruno, you know I love that sink. It’s an old heirloom—your grandfather pulled it out of our first home because I liked it so much!”

“Yes, Babika,” he replies.

As he disappears down the narrow hallway, I find myself awkwardly perched on the edge of the well-worn couch, my eyes wandering around the room.

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