Page 26 of Her Father's Best Friend

"If you hurt her—" he starts.

"I won't," I interrupt, meaning it with every fiber of my being.

"Let me finish," he says, holding up a hand. "If you hurt her, I'll kill you. Friend or no friend. That clear?"

"Crystal."

He nods, satisfied. "You got a ring yet?"

I pull the velvet pouch from my pocket, setting it on the table between us. Bill picks it up, emptying the simple diamond solitaire into his palm. It's not large or flashy—Delilah wouldn't want that—but the clarity is perfect, the setting handcrafted by a jeweler friend who owed me a favor.

"She'll like this," Bill says, returning it to the pouch and handing it back. "Simple. Honest. Like you."

The approval in his voice loosens something tight in my chest. "Planning to ask her tonight."

He nods, a mix of emotions crossing his face. "Tell her..." he starts, then stops, clearing his throat. "Tell her I'd like to come by Sunday. If that's alright with you both."

I pocket the ring, relief washing through me. "She'd like that. We both would."

When we part in the parking lot, there's no hug, no handshake—we're not there yet. But Bill claps a hand on my shoulder, the touch brief but meaningful.

"Don't screw it up," he says gruffly.

"Not a chance," I promise.

***

The sunset paints the sky in shades of orange and pink by the time Delilah's car pulls into our driveway. I'm waiting on the porch, nerves making my palms sweat despite the cool evening air. The ring feels heavy in my pocket, a promise and a future I'm finally ready to claim.

She steps out of her car, hair lifting in the gentle breeze, wearing the blue dress I love—the one that brings out the green of her eyes. When she sees me on the porch, her face breaks into a smile that still hits me like a physical force.

"Hey, handsome," she calls, climbing the steps to join me. "What are you doing out here?"

Instead of answering, I pull her into my arms, breathing in the scent of her shampoo, feeling the now-familiar way her body fits against mine. She melts into the embrace, arms winding around my waist.

"Missed you today," I murmur against her hair. "How was the interview?"

She pulls back enough to look up at me, eyes bright with excitement. "I got it! They want me to start Monday, organizing the children's reading program."

"That's my girl," I say, pride swelling in my chest. "Never doubted you for a minute."

Her smile widens, and she rises on tiptoes to press a kiss to my lips. What was meant to be a quick peck deepens as I chase her mouth, unable to resist the taste of her. She makes that little sound in the back of her throat that drives me crazy, fingers curling into my shirt.

When we break apart, she's breathless, cheeks flushed. "What's gotten into you?"

Now or never. I take her hand, leading her to the porch swing I built last month specifically for this moment. We sit together, my arm around her shoulders, her head resting against me as we watch the sunset paint the sky.

"Met your dad today," I say quietly.

She stiffens against me. "What? Where? What did he say?"

"At the diner." I press a kiss to her temple, feeling her relax slightly at the gesture. "He saw you yesterday. At the store."

"I didn't see him." Her voice holds a note of regret.

"He was watching from a distance." My hand strokes her arm, soothing. "Said you looked happy."

"I am happy." She shifts to look at me, searching my face. "How was he? Was he still angry?"

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