Daddy, Please Make Me Yours
Excluding me.
Gosh, June. Get yourself together.
Plastering a small smile on my face, I say, "Good morning, sir."
"Good morning, June. Welcome back," Mr. Macaulay says, his smile somehow growing even wider.
For a moment, I genuinely think his lips might tear at the edges. Like, physically split open from the sheer force of his happiness.
Which would be tragic, really, because those lips are very nice to look at.
"Why are you hovering by the door?" he asks, his smile never fading. "Come here."
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