Page 145 of Just My Type of wrong guy

“Talk soon, Dad.”

I hang up and lock the screen. I exhale slowly and, instead of standing up, I sit up straight and rest my back on the couch. No crying, no pain and with the certainty that restoring what was lost takes time, but it is possible.

I just hope A.J. thinks the same.

Chapter Forty-Three – A.J.

If you could only know I never let you go

And the words I most regret are the ones

I never meant to leaveunsaid, Emily

Unsaid Emily - Julie and The Phantoms

“Hey, what do you think?” Alexandra asks, full of anticipation, as I take my first bite of her chocolate-frosted carrot cake.

I lift the fork to my mouth, remembering every time Guilherme and Daniele tried to get me to try one of these and I’d refused, thinking it was weird.

But no matter how strange chocolate and vegetables sound together, Alexandra made my birthday breakfast with so much love—there’s all this amazing Brazilian food on the table, and she’s so cute in her party hat—that refusing would’ve been impossible. I close my eyes and shove the fork in.

When the cake melts on my tongue and the rich, slightly bitter brigadeiro frosting wraps around it, I can’t help letting out a little moan. Alexandra ’s face lights up and she jumps into my lap, peppering my cheeks with kisses.

“I knew you’d love it. You can’t help but love it.”

“I thought nothing would top the corn cake,” I tease, scooping her up almost into the coffee table—toppling over and sending us both into laughter. “But this… this is really something.”

“You still have to try the orange one to decide,” she says, pulling back for a moment, and my heart complains at the distance. “This one’sbeijinho.”, she says ‘little kiss’ and I frown.

“Like, a little kiss?” I ask for the confirmation, pulling her back in for a quick kiss before shoving another bite in my mouth. “I’ve had plenty, but yours is the best I’ve ever tasted.”

“Coming from someone who kisses a lot, that’s high praise,” she teases, and I give her thigh a playful slap.

“We’ve got guests coming tonight—no seasoning what you can’t eat…” she taunts.

“Then give me another beijinho,” I demand, and as she brings the little sweet toward my mouth, I roll my eyes so she knows she’s about to kiss the wrong thing—before her lips meet mine.

“I can’t wait to make your birthday stroganoff. I’ve been dying to try it since I learned.”

“When you promised me that this birthday would be special, I didn’t expect a full-on gourmet tasting,” I joke, and she laughs.

A phone buzzes on the sofa. We both glance over. I’m waiting on Victor’s call to wrap up the last details—but Alexandra looks at me, sheepish, because she got excited. In the last forty-eight hours, she and her dad have talked more than in the past eight months. He feels guilty for the pain he caused her, like he’s betraying their story. But he’s trying. And that makes her happy. I don’t want her to feel judged.

“It’s yours,” I say, seeing no notifications.

She unlocks her screen like a kid grabbing a toy after forever.

“It’s my dad. He wants to talk about… us.

“Go talk to him if you want—I’ll be here eating…” I offer, and she shakes her head. “And how are you feeling about… all this?”

“I feel almost silly for being happy. But having my dad back in my life is something I’ve wanted so badly. Even if we have more to work out, I won’t pretend I’m not happy.”

“There are things smaller than forgiveness—and things bigger than it, right?” I say, leaning in for another generous forkful.

“What do you mean?” she pouts, confused.

“You and your dad—you’re handling things even without having fully forgiven him. But me and mine… even if they forgive me for what I did—six years are six years.”

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