Camila Davis watched her daughter snuggle up to Dennis Williams, unable to hold back a smile at how adorable—and honestly, kind of miraculous—it all seemed.
How could Lillian turn into a whole different kid just by being next to Dennis?
Camila shook her head, half exasperated, half amused. “Why’d you buy so much stuff? Back when we were in Harrisburg, my dad used to spoil her rotten—her room is already overflowing with plushies and toys. I swear, she’s got more merch than the stores do. You really didn’t have to go all out.”
Dennis’s eyes softened as he looked at the little girl. “If it makes Lillian happy, it’s worth every penny.”
Hearing the gentle indulgence in his voice, Camila was left a little speechless.
Well, Lillian was a special case—she wouldn’t get spoiled in the usual way.
But honestly, with so many people doting on her, who knew what kind of little princess she’d turn into?
Once Lillian was settled with her new toys, Dennis finally turned his attention to Camila.
When their eyes met, Camila felt a strange little jolt in her chest, like a spark of electricity. She hadn’t expected to feel this way; the last few weeks, they’d only connected via video calls, and she hadn’t thought twice about it. But seeing him in person now, she felt a sudden, comforting sense of reality.
Why was she feeling like this?
Dennis met her gaze, his eyes deep and thoughtful, a flicker of something intense behind them.
He looked her over and spoke in his usual warm, velvety voice, tinged with genuine concern. “You look like you’ve lost weight…”
Camila blinked, surprised. “Me?”
He nodded. “Yeah, your face looks a little slimmer than before.”
She glanced at her reflection in the window, not having noticed any difference herself. “Maybe it’s because I’ve been busy with my dad’s stuff—and the research center’s been crazy lately. Probably just stress.”
She caught the disapproving look in Dennis’s eyes and suddenly remembered the last time she’d skipped meals; he’d shown up at her door with Lillian and an entire home-cooked dinner, determined to make her eat.
Not wanting to get scolded again, she rushed to reassure him, “I’ve been taking better care of myself, really! My dad’s all recovered now and working at the institute, so I’m eating properly, promise!”
Dennis’s chest rumbled with a quiet laugh, the sound low enough that only she noticed. He seemed to remember something too.
He changed the subject, asking, “So, how’s Mr. Morris settling in up in Maine? Everything going alright?”

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