Bringing Home Mr. Wrong (Bringing Home Trouble)

Chapter 8

Chapter

Eight

John

I stand outside the familiar door, heart pounding in my chest. My fingers tighten around the bottle of scotch—a peace offering, perhaps. Or liquid courage. Drawing a deep breath, I knock.

The door opens, revealing the stoic face of my oldest friend. His eyes, once warm, now regard me with a cold distance. "John."

"Hi Frank, I was hoping we could talk." I hold up the bottle. "I brought your favorite."

He hesitates before stepping aside. "Come in."

The house feels different now, weighted with unspoken words and broken trust. We settle into armchairs, glasses in hand. The scotch burns my throat.

"I know you're angry," I begin, choosing each word carefully. "And you have every right to be. But I need you to know...my feelings for Camila are genuine. I would never do anything to hurt her."

His jaw clenches. "She's my little girl, John. I trusted you."

"I didn't plan this. It just...happened." Even to my own ears, it sounds weak. "I care for her, deeply."

Silence stretches between us, thick and suffocating. Finally, he sighs. "I don't like it. But...I can see she cares for you too." He meets my gaze, eyes fierce. "If you break her heart, we're done. Understand?"

I nod solemnly. "I promise, I'll do right by her. Always."

He drains his glass and stands. "I'll hold you to that."

Relief floods me as I rise, offering my hand. After a moment, he shakes it—a fragile truce. There's still a long road ahead, I know. But it's a start.

***

Camila

Twinkling lights and elegant garlands adorn every surface of my childhood home. The annual New Year's Eve party—a family tradition. But this year, everything's different.

I smooth my dress, scanning the crowded room. When my eyes find John, my heart flutters. He looks devastatingly handsome in his suit, with his dark hair and thick beard. Our gazes lock and he smiles, making his way towards me.

"You look beautiful," he murmurs, pressing a chaste kiss to my cheek. I blush, leaning into him.

"And you look handsome as ever." I take his hand, lacing our fingers.

We mingle, never straying far from each other. I catch my father watching us, his expression unreadable. But as the night wears on, I see the tension in his shoulders ease slightly.

"I think he's coming around," John whispers conspiratorially. "Slowly but surely."

I nod, hope blooming in my chest. It will take time—rebuilding the trust, finding a new normal. But I know that John and I can get through anything.

The countdown begins, voices rising in excited unison. John pulls me close, his eyes reflecting the shimmering lights. In this moment, I feel invincible.

And then the countdown begins.

“3...2...1! Happy New Year!” Cheers erupt all around us as confetti rains down, but John and I only have eyes for each other. The rest of the world falls away.

He cups my face tenderly, thumb grazing my cheekbone. "Happy New Year, Camila," he breathes, his voice low and intimate. "I love you, more than words can say."

"I love you too, John. So much." Emotion swells in my chest, threatening to overflow.

Slowly, reverently, he lowers his head. His lips brush against mine, soft and sweet at first, then deepening with unspoken promises. I sink into his embrace, savoring his familiar scent of sandalwood and spice. His strong arms anchor me, making me feel cherished. Protected.

When we finally part, I'm breathless and glowing, giddy bubbles of joy fizzing through my veins. John rests his forehead against mine, his eyes glittering with barely restrained desire. "To us," he toasts, his voice husky.

"To us," I echo.

My eyes lift, and I catch my father watching us across the room. He gives me a wordless nod. I guess it’s as close to approval as I’m going to get it, so I’ll gladly take it.

I smile up at John, my heart light. No more hiding, no more doubt. Just an unshakable certainty that this—that he —is exactly where I'm meant to be.

John claims my lips again, and I melt into his kiss, pouring every ounce of my love, my hopes, my dreams into this perfect midnight moment. A beautiful start to the rest of our lives.