Page 9 of Becoming His Perfect Daddy
“Okay,” he replied, and I could almost see the wheels spinning in his head. “Alright, so think about it this way: You don’t know who they are, do you?”
“No, not at all. I don’t even know their gender.”
Tris clapped his hands. “See? That’s perfect! That email is giving you a chance to explore that connection without the pressure of attraction or a relationship or even interacting in person. It’s mostly anonymous, and you can just see where it goes. Maybe it turns into something more, and maybe it doesn’t. But either way, this could be a way for you to put yourself out there without risking your heart. Maybe this is a safe way to find out what happens next.”
I bit my lip as I considered his words. That actually seemed kinda smart.
“And another thing: You’re always overthinking, Cammery, making things seem worse or bigger than they really are. You could reply, and nothing could come of it. Or they could reply, and you could become friends—or more. My advice? Stop trying to figure out the outcome and just live in the moment. Trust the universe. You’ll know the right thing to do at the exact right time. Trust, and let the rest go.”
Was it bad to be a little irritated when my BFF made so much sense? Asking for a friend.
But he was right; I could put myself out there again in this tiny, small, safe way and see what came of it. Maybe nothing. But if the sender of that email was meant to be important to me in some way, my anxiety could worry about that later. For now, I’d just focus on the first step: replying.
“Thanks, Tris.”
“Anytime, Camers. I just . . .”
His voice trailed off, and my eyebrow raised. Tris wasnevershy about speaking his mind. “What?”
His shoulders heaved in a loud sigh. “You know I don’t want you to get hurt, but I don’t want to see you close yourself off to love or even a new friendship, either. That’s no way to live.”
I nodded, suspecting he knew this from firsthand experience. He didn’t like to talk about his life before I’d met him, so I didn’t know much about his past. But this felt real to him, important. “I hear you, Tris, I promise.”
He wiggled in his seat, straightening. “Good. Now that that’s all settled, I’m going into Daddy mode. Have you eaten lunch yet?”
Outwardly, I rolled my eyes, but inwardly, I was beyond grateful. I needed a Daddy in my life, and Tristan was happy to fill in from time to time until I found one, even though he was a boy himself. I just hoped he wouldn’t have to do it forever.
But the way things were going, I wasn’t so sure.
After I wrapped up my call with Tris, I turned back to my computer and knocked out more client work until I was ready to wrap up for the night. But before I shut everything down, I opened my email draft from earlier and started typing.
S.M.C.,
Thank you so much for your kind words! They mean a lot more to me than you know. And I can’t say I hate that you love my books so much. *wink*
I think you’re probably right about Hudson. I may just have to work him in somewhere.
I added a smirking emoji. Was I flirting? I didn’t even know who this person was!
Again, thank you so much for replying and sharing your love of my books with me. It not only did my heart good to know someone out there is reading the stories that mean so much to me, but I also love that my writing touched you on such a deep level. If you’d like to share, I’d love to hear more about what connected with you most.
Always,
Cameron
I hit send before I could overthink it. I didn’t know why I signed it with my real name. I didn’t know why I asked for more information on what was probably very personal. I didn’t know why I copied their sign-off, and I didn’t know why I was flirting.
Because I definitely was.
With a self-indulgent shake of my head, I shut my computer and streamed a movie in the living room before running through my usual yoga practice—a must after a full day at the computer—then heading to bed.
As I lay in bed trying to fall asleep, my thoughts drifted to S.M.C.’s email, and the possibilities exploded in my head before I could stop them, courtesy of my writer’s brain. But like Tris had reminded me, I had to stop overthinking. Maybe replying would lead to something, and maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe they wouldn’t even email me back.
I hoped they would, but I had to trust the process, trust that S.M.C. would reply if it was meant to be. Regardless, I realized that reaching out to S.M.C. could be the perfect way to get over an endless string of bad dates, restore my faith in humanity, and possibly start over with someone new—without all that messy business of actually falling in love.
Yup. That was a great plan. It wouldn’t backfire at all.
November 27th
