Bringing Home Mr. Wrong (Bringing Home Trouble)

Chapter 7

Chapter

Seven

Camila

The silence in John's house is suffocating. I sit on the leather sofa, the coolness of it a sharp contrast to the heat rising in my cheeks. John paces the room, his brow furrowed with worry. The weight of our actions hangs heavy between us.

"He won't even speak to me," I whisper, my voice trembling. "My own father..."

John stops pacing and kneels before me, taking my hands in his. His touch is warm, comforting. "Give him time, Camila. This is a shock for him. For everyone."

I search his blue eyes, usually so calm and reassuring. Now they betray hints of uncertainty. "What if he never accepts us, John? What if we've ruined everything?"

He cups my face gently, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. "We'll find a way through this, together. I'm not giving up on us, Camila. On you."

I lean into his touch, drawing strength from his steadfast presence. The spicy scent of his cologne envelops me like a protective cocoon. But doubt still gnaws at the edges of my mind, persistent and relentless. Can our love weather this storm? Is it strong enough to mend the fractures we've caused?

Days bleed into each other, the tension never abating. Dad's silence is a wall between us, impenetrable and unyielding. Each unanswered call, each ignored text, is a dagger to my heart. I cling to John, my anchor in this turbulent sea of emotions. But even his reassurances begin to feel hollow, worn thin by the passage of time.

Finally, a glimmer of hope. Dad agrees to meet me, to talk. I sit across from him at our favorite café, the one where we've shared countless heart-to-hearts over the years. The familiar aroma of coffee and baked goods does little to ease the tightness in my chest.

"Dad, please try to understand," I begin, my hands wrapped around my mug, seeking its warmth. "John is everything you’ve always wanted for me. He’s smart, successful, responsible. It’s not like he’s some deadbeat. And you’ve been friends with him for so long, you know he’s a good guy who would never hurt me. And more importantly, John makes me happy. Truly happy. Isn't that what you've always wanted for me?"

He sighs deeply, lines of hurt etched into his face. "I want you to be happy, Camila. But this... it's not right. He's too old for you, he's my best friend. How can I accept this?"

"Age is just a number, Dad. It's about how we feel, the connection we share. John is kind, supportive, and loves me for who I am. Can't you see that?"

I reach across the table, tentatively resting my hand on his. He doesn't pull away, and I take it as a small victory. "I know this is hard for you. But please, don't make me choose between the two most important men in my life. I need you both."

Silence stretches between us, heavy with unspoken emotions. Finally, Dad's shoulders slump, the fight draining out of him. "I can't pretend to be okay with this overnight, Camila. But...I'll try. For you."

Tears sting my eyes as relief floods through me. It's not a complete acceptance, but it's a start. A fragile bridge across the chasm that divides us. I squeeze his hand, pouring all my love and gratitude into that simple gesture.

As I leave the café, the sun breaks through the clouds, casting a warm glow on the street. A symbol of hope, of new beginnings. The road ahead may be rocky, but with John by my side and Dad's tentative understanding, I know we'll find our way.

We have to.