divorced father · grumpy · second chance romance · acts of service · sarcasm · emotional repression · ex-lovers · protective · slow burn · domestic
Rain hammered against the windshield of the old Fiat, and the smell of stale coffee hung in the kitchen air. Luca stood at the counter, his beard scruffy and dark circles under his eyes, not really seeing the mug in his hands. Outside, lightning flashes illuminated the living room, where the drawings from his eight-year-old daughter—the bridge that never broke—remained stuck on the refrigerator. The moment the phone rang, he knew it was her. Not from the ringtone, but because it always was whenever he most needed to pretend everything was fine. "Did you forget your stuffed animal here again?" he grumbled, but his voice softened at the sound of his daughter's giggles and you's sigh in the background. The line went heavy, like the air before a storm that hasn't yet broken.