Daddy’s Shy Little Girl by Jess Winters

CHAPTER EIGHT

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Donnie

The idea doesn’t gradually come to mind at all. There’s no build up at all. On the contrary, it just comes to me and I don’t take any time thinking about it at all. The thought comes to me and that’s all it takes to act on it. The thought hits me while I’m stopping at the mall to buy Janna a teddy bear.

She was with me for a year before she even knew I was rich.

That was two weeks ago and she hasn’t treated me any differently or presented any different expectations at all. She asked me to move in with her even though she knows I could easily afford a house if I wanted to buy one. Hell, I’ve been at the little hotel just because it’s convenient. It’s kind of stupid, actually, given how much time I spend away from it, time I spend with her at her house.

I understand, at least to an extent, that my other relationships knew about my wealth because I worked nine or ten hours a day and was available for calls at all hours from employees because the factory worked three shifts, twenty-four hours a day. They couldn’t avoid knowing about my wealth. They also couldn’t avoid expecting more from me when they learned I was wealthy.

She does none of that.

She’s not any of the little girls I’ve known.

She’s Janny, and she’s perfect.

She finds out I’m rich and it doesn’t change her at all. She’s still the same wonderful Janny she’s always been, and I find myself completely overwhelmed by that fact.

She’s Janny.

She’s Janny and she’s all I want. Period. I want nothing more from life than to have her in it. It’s a breathtaking realization and I need to take action in relation to it.

As I come to this conclusion, I’m walking to the boutique where I’ll find the teddy bear and happen to be right in front of a jeweler’s showroom. It’s not one of the big chain stores. I can tell from the storefront the place has personality. I step inside and a man who looks like Geppetto from the Pinocchio cartoon smiles at me. “How can I help you, young man?” he asks. Nobody has called me young man in a decade. I’m only thirty-eight but something about owning your own business and being responsible for almost two hundred employees precludes being called a young man even when I was.

“I need an engagement ring,” I say.

“Good thing for you that’s exactly what I do,” he says. He smiles brightly at me and I can’t help but smile back. “Tell me everything about this person you love,” he says. “Tell me and we’ll find something perfect for you.” I spend about two hours with him and he actually designs one for me on his computer. I choose emeralds and sapphires along the band because the jeweler tells me the emeralds symbolize new beginnings and the sapphires symbolize protection. Even with the diamond center stone, the ring is elegant rather than showy, and the colorfulness makes it girly, which is perfect for her. He tells me it will be ready in eight days but I offer him twice the place if he can cut that time in half.

That night, Janny gets a Teddy Bear.

Two days later, I get the call from the jeweler.

The ring is perfect, even better than it seemed like it would be on the computer. I call her as I leave the jeweler and tell her I’d like to take her to a fancy restaurant. She says she doesn’t know how to dress for a fancy restaurant and I laugh and tell her I’ll bring her home something. So, I head back to the mall and buy a cocktail dress from a boutique along with heels. The fantastic thing about getting her to make an online wish list is that I know all her sizes.

Soon we’re on the road. It is a two-hour drive but I know it will be worth it. The whole ride, she bubbles with excitement and I realize she has likely never been to a fancy restaurant. I’m thrilled I can share this with her. Since it’s a two-hours away from home, I have reservations at a hotel. We check in and there we change into formal clothes. She’s shocked by the cocktail dress and even more shocked that it fits perfectly. She’s such a little girl that it almost seems like she’s playing dress up.

She doesn’t look like she’s playing dress up.

At seven o’clock, we’re seated by the maître d’ at Matise, which is probably the finest French Restaurant in the state. She’s overwhelmed and I get a bit of a thrill when a waiter arrives and I order our drinks and appetizers in French. She looks at me in wonder and I smile as I reach forward and stroke her cheek. “Don’t worry,” I say, “You can order the dessert in English. I’m just showing off.”

She bites her lip and then says, “I want to show off, too, Daddy. Will you teach me how to order the dessert in French?”

I can’t believe this girl. “Of course I will, darling.” I’m shocked that she’s willing to try and I’m absolutely thrilled by it as well.

The meal is everything anyone could possibly want from a four star dining experience. She’s hiding how nervous she is when the waiter returns with busboys to clear our dishes.  Janna’s accent is near perfect as she says, “Mille-feuille aux fraises rôties et mascarpone et crème fraiche panna cotta aux poires pochées à la cannelle et praliné, s'il vous plait.”

The waiter smiles, and I think he’s as surprised as I am. “Tres bien mademoiselle. Immédiatement,” he replies. Then, kindly he says, “Very good choice. We’ll have your desserts out in just a moment.”

She looks at me, and she’s perfect, absolutely perfect. She asks, “Did I say that right, Daddy?”

I intend to tell her she said the words perfectly. I intend to wait until we get to the hotel room to tell her anything else.

I can’t.

I get up and walk around to the table to where she sits. I fall to my knee and say, “Will you marry me, Janna? You’re everything I’ve ever wanted. Please, Janny. Will you marry me?” I reach into my pocket and pull out the engagement ring. “Will you? Will you marry me?”

For a moment there is silence and I realize the whole dining room has become quiet. She nods and I see tears in her eyes and then her arms are around me as she says, “Yes! Yes! A thousand times, yes!” I hold her tightly as the dining room erupts in applause and she whispers in my ear, “I don’t care how well I did the French. We’re skipping dessert. You need to get me to the hotel room right now. Right now, Daddy.”

If there were a judge there to determine how to score my reaction, I would get a perfect 10. If anyone blinks too long, they’ll miss it. It seems like we’re just magically transported to the hotel room, although, of course, I understand that I actually drove her there. It’s damned impossible to think about that drive, though. In fact, it’s damned impossible to think about anything other than the fact that she’s right in front of me, and she’s everything I can possibly want.

Everything I can even imagine wanting.

Janny is perfect, and beyond all reason, she’s mine.