“In that case, it’s Ash,” she says, a light sparkling in her big blue eyes.
Even if I should resist it, I know I won’t be able to. Best friend’s daughter or not, she’s special. Remarkable. Every time she smiles I feel my heart slipping a little more out of my chest, going to its new place in hers. I want to touch her, to claim her, to make her mine. I want to take her home and keep her.
I only have a week until she’s gone – and I can already feel myself mentally pushing work away, delaying it, making room for her in my schedule. Because how often does an opportunity like this come up?
The most enchanting, beautiful girl I’ve ever met walked by me on the street, and it turns out I know her father. I can’t waste this.
I’m going to make her mine – and then she’ll never want to leave.
Chapter Four
Ashley
The arrival of the omelet I ordered – Spanish style, with lumps of potato instead of just egg as the basis – is almost an unwelcome interruption. I feel like I could sit here and talk to Fernando for hours. It’s just so easy – far from what I expected.
It seems like he’s closer to my age than my Dad’s. He’s not old and stuffy, and he doesn’t try to talk down to me at all. With that totally hot accent of his, I feel like I’m hanging on every single word he says, and he doesn’t even react to that either. He seems unflappable – but not in a cold, aloof way, more like he’s seen everything before, but wants to see more all the same.
“So, what are you studying?” he asks me as I take my first bite of the hot dish, which is flavorful and delicious. “Have you chosen your major yet?”
I make a face. “Not really,” I say. “I’ve tried a few things, but nothing’s sticking yet.”
“Well, what do you want to do with your life?”
I blush and shake my head. “I don’t know.”
Fernando narrows his eyes at me. “Yes, you do.”
“What?” I squeak, knowing he’s caught me. He’s right. I do know. It’s just too embarrassing to say it.
“Go on,” he says. “Tell me, Ash. I won’t judge you.”
I take a breath. “Well, the thing is,” I say, not quite sure why I’m revealing this secret – something I’ve never said out loud. “I’ve always just really wanted to be a Mom and a wife. I don’t mind what I do beyond that, so long as I can support my family.”
“It’s a little old-fashioned,” Fernando says, then smiles. “But why not? If that’s the thing you want, I don’t think you should be ashamed of it. It’s a wonderful goal to have for your life.”
“Do you really think so?” I ask. I push a potato around with my fork, feeling strangely bashful. “Most people think it’s a weird thing to want, at my age and in this time. I’m supposed to be ambitious and want some high-powered career, and not have kids until I’m thirty-five. But I don’t think I want to wait that long.”
“You want a lot of children, then?” Fernando asks. I feel like he might be teasing me, though I don’t know him well enough to tell.
“I hope so,” I say. “Three, or four. Maybe more. I’d like to try to have them be close in age, so it really depends on how much I can cope with. And I’d want a mix of girls and boys, so they can all look after each other in different ways.”
“You’ve really thought about this,” Fernando says.
“And what about you?” I ask, getting bold in spite of my blushes. “You don’t have children, do you? I don’t think I remember my Dad mentioning that.” I’ve already noticed that he doesn’t wear a wedding ring, but it would be just my luck that he only doesn’t wear it for some reason. Or that he’s got a long-term girlfriend who doesn’t see the point in a piece of paper, but they already have five kids and a dog and a cat, and a wonderful home.
I can’t really see someone this gorgeous and this wonderful staying single for very long.
“No, I don’t have any children,” Fernando says. A kind of wistful look comes over his face, and he scratches the back of his head. “I’d like some, too. A big family appeals to me. I grew up without brothers or sisters. It would have been nice.”
I nod. “I’m the same,” I tell him. “Well, I guess you already know that.”
“Your father kept me updated, all these years,” Fernando says. When he smiles, the skin around his eyes crinkles in this way that I can’t stop looking at.
Why did I have to bring up my Dad? I feel like the mood between us was beginning to get all warm and cozy; even if I was the only one who could feel it, talking like that made me start to dream. About him whisking me off my feet and suggesting that since we both want the same thing, we might as well have it together. How romantic would that be?