Page 514 of Bad Prince
That one almost makes me smile, because God, did we.
He doesn’t interrupt.
I stop pacing and stand still, voice dropping lower now, steadier.
“But not anymore.”
The hallway hums around me—distant showers, doors, teammates somewhere behind me. Real life pressing in from every angle.
I don’t care.
“I have never been happier,” I tell him. “And I am not ashamed of that.”
The quiet on the other end this time is different. Then he says, in Spanish, rougher than before:
“Te pones frente a mí como si fueras un ejército entero.”
You stand in front of me like you’re an entire army.
I laugh once under my breath.
“You should know that look. It’s yours.”
That gets the smallest exhale on the line.
Not quite amusement.
But close.
When he speaks again, the edge is still there, but something under it has changed.
“You are his first concern?”
“Yes.”
“He did not pressure you?”
My chest tightens at the question—not because I mind it, but because I understand where it comes from. From years he missed. From not being there to know the difference between a boy and a man when it comes to his daughter. From trying, imperfectly, to make up for absence with vigilance.
“No,” I say softly. “He waited.”
The line goes so quiet I wonder if the call dropped.
Then Emmanuel says,“Esperó.”
Waited.
Like the word itself means something to him.
Maybe it does.
“Yes.”
I lean back against the wall and close my eyes, letting the truth settle.
“He waited,” I repeat. “He let me choose every step. He gave me romance when it would have been easier to just take heat. He respected me,Papá.”
That one matters most.
