I know Mila was nervous as hell, and even though I tried to keep my cool, I can't deny I was shit scared too.

The thought that Sam might not approve of me had me worried, even though I was ninety-nine percent sure that wasn't the case. But I've barely met him, and I was fucking scared of screwing things up with him. I know Mila values his opinion, and it would break her if we didn't get along.

I offered to fly out today so they could have some alone time together, but Mila insisted I stay. She wants me to get to know her dad, and I can't deny I was goddamn glad about that. I'm not looking forward to the next weeks without her, and I want to be with her as long as possible before I have to get back to that shithole.

"What are we cooking?" Sam asks.

We're back in our apartment now; Mila's dad settled in the guest room while we moved some stuff from Mila's flat to the bedroom. I meant what I said to her. This place only becomes a home when she's in it, and I intend to keep it that way for when I come back permanently.

"What do you think?" Mila quips, the grin on her lips matching her father's as he rubs his hand in excitement.

"Lasagna?"

"Of course!"

I check the dish we put into the oven about half an hour ago, and then they just stand there, grinning at each other, and I watch their interaction with a smile. Mila already seems so much more relaxed, so free. My heart soars at that sight—I know the long distance will be worth just having her content like that.

The two of them join me in the kitchen to help prepare everything, and I can't deny that even though a father like Sam is a completely new concept to me, it's so goddamn refreshing and easy to be with them.

I mean, I care about my parents. They brought me into this world, after all, but they mostly care about my success and career. We don't really have a bond, and definitely not one like Mila and Sam do. To be honest, these two almost seem like best friends instead of father and daughter.

"I'll go set the table. Be right back." Mila gets on her toes to press a kiss on my cheek, and I meet her halfway before she walks through the apartment like she's lived here all her life.

She has that aura that makes everything so special, but easy. Almost like she's floating on clouds sometimes. It's fascinating to watch her move, to watch her exist.

"You've quite fallen for her." Sam's voice makes me turn my head, and I spot him leaning against the counter, looking over at me with a smirk on his face as I shove the lasagna in the oven.

"Oh, I still am falling for her." I turn around to face him. "She's...extraordinary."

He glances behind him, both of us now watching how Mila works on the table, a content smile on her face as she arranges plates, moving them around until she has the right setting. "That she is," he agrees before looking back at me, and I can see how he studies me, forming his own opinion about the man dating his daughter. "You're awfully generous with her."

His words make me widen my eyes. Oh, no.

"Don't think I don't know who's paying for all of this. I know her book was good, but I also know she didn't have the kind of money to get me out of there. Not to mention Mike, who must be expensive too."

I can't read what he's thinking, and I have to admit it scares the shit out of me. "For the record, she wasn't fond of the idea," I concede.

"I can imagine."

"But," I add, "she was miserable. Seeing you in there. I think it took much more out of her than she let on, and as I told you before, I love her. A lot. And I can't stand to see her hurt."

The guilt is obvious in his eyes, and I can't even imagine how he must feel now. He wasn't at fault for any of this, and still he must feel like he let her down.

"You've probably done your research by now," I say, wanting to get my point across and erase any doubts he has about me, about us. He nods, and I take that as an indicator to keep going. "So you know I'm successful. I have money. Tons of it, and I seriously don't know what to do with it. Mila isn't the type of woman who wants expensive jewelry or handbags or anything like that. I tried to buy her a new case for Mathilda, and she was so offended that she almost kicked me out of my own hotel room."

His laughter echoes through the room, and I see Mila looking up, watching us from the distance. I shoot her a quick smile, letting her know it's all fine, before I turn back to her dad. "That sounds like her." He chuckles. "That typewriter is sacred."

"Exactly." I can't help but laugh too. Because that's just my girlfriend in a nutshell. "What I'm trying to say is I'd give your daughter anything she wants. But the only thing she seems to be interested in is having her father back. And I can at least try to give that to her, especially with those vultures out there bothering her just because she decided to be with me."

He regards me for a minute, taking in all I said before he asks, "How's she taking them? The vultures?"

I frown, thinking of the shit she had to deal with for the past few weeks. "She's...she's a warrior, really. Taking it all on the chin, even though I know this can't be easy for her. I guess she wants to push it all away, and she finds strength in the confidence that she can deal with things on her own."

"Mila was always good at that. People underestimate her."

"She underestimates herself too. She's much stronger than she gives herself credit for," I elaborate.

Sam regards me for another moment, a warm smile slowly spreading on his lips as he remarks, "You seem to have gotten to know her quite a bit. That's good."

I'm just about to answer when I hear Mila's voice echo from the living room, "Alright, the table is all set! What about dinner?"

She makes her way over to us, wrapping her arms around her father, who just shoots me one last smile before I answer, "Almost done."

"Good, I'm starving." Sam laughs, and I lean against the counter while I watch the two interact, sharing jokes and small talk, both of them radiating happiness.

"You okay?" she asks, and only now do I realize I must have been in my head, Sam already walked into the living room. She hooks her hand around my neck, her fingers playing with my hair as she stares up at me like I hold the answers to all her questions.

"I'm good," I answer with a smile, and she gets on her toes before pulling me down so I meet her halfway. I grin against her lips when they meet mine, and I feel the happiness radiating off her like a bushfire, igniting every inch of her.

"We can't make out with my dad next door," she whispers, and I chuckle in agreement before she joins in, her cheeks flushed when she regards me again.

"True. I'm sure he wouldn't be too impressed if he saw us."

"No...he really wouldn't."

***

We spend the rest of the evening with content chatter and the worst dad jokes I've ever heard. The more time I spend with Sam, the more I see where Mila gets it all from—her sense of humor, her wit, her humble way of living life...it's fascinating, and I love that I can figure out more about her with every minute I spend with the two of them.

Sam excuses himself pretty early; I guess getting out of jail is exhausting. We tried updating him on all the important events of the past three years, but we did it step by step to not overwhelm him with information.

The events of the past weeks make their way into my brain when I do the dishes, the heaviness of this situation suddenly dawning on me.

I never thought my life would revolve around one woman. I had girlfriends before, but they never made me feel so...fulfilled. Mila fills me with love, excitement, and content. It's crazy how much my life has changed for the better since I met her. I find myself walking around with a smile on my face; the sole thought of coming back home to her makes my heart whole.

And I can't deny I'm scared. So fucking scared. Because even though I know we're strong, that we can get through this, I also know things can get ugly. Complicated. The mere thought of losing Mila just terrifies me. My whole body tenses at the thought; I know I can't live without her. I'm pretty sure it'd break me if she left.

"Hey." She embraces me from behind as I close the fridge, and I instantly turn around, tugging her closer to me. I just need to feel her, need to have her as close as possible. "What's wrong?" she asks, and I absolutely adore that she knows what I think every second of every day. Once again, I didn't even have to tell her I'm upset and that my mind is working on overdrive right now. She just feels it.

"I just..." I hide in the crook of her neck, her fingers skimming through my hair as I take a couple of shaky breaths. I've never felt this vulnerable in my life, and it scares the ever-living hell out of me.

"Baby, you're scaring me. What happened?" She moves her hands to my cheeks, running her thumb over my jaw, urging me to glance up at her. I lift my head to take her in, and the way she looks at me takes my breath away—she looks so goddamn worried that my heart breaks seeing her this way.

"Sorry. I'm sorry." I shake my head.

"What are you talking about? Don't apologize." Mila responds, her thumbs stroking my cheeks, and just now do I realize I must've shed a tear or two. I don't remember the last time I cried, to be honest.

"I'm just scared," I admit, trying my hardest to stay calm. The raw emotion in her eyes definitely doesn't help matters.

She regards me for a moment, furrowing her brows so hard I almost want to run my thumb over them to straighten them out. "Of what?"

"Of losing you." I almost whisper the words; saying them out loud would hurt too much.

"Oh, baby... Why would you lose me?"

"I don't know." I sigh in defeat. "There's so much going on. I have no idea what's going to happen, and I don't...I don't want anything to come between us."

"Oh, Hayden. Nothing like that will happen. They won't come between us. We won't let them." She speaks like a true warrior princess.

"We need to trust each other, and no one else. Do you understand that?" I ask. "We can't doubt each other, no matter what the press or anyone says."

"I know." She shoots me a bright smile, a smile so bright that she illuminates the whole room with it. "It's you and me against the world."

"That's right. You and me against the world."