(Chapter 1) A Spin on an Enchanted Tale
Characters: Miguel O’Hara, fem!reader, Gabriella O’Hara
Chapter 1 summary: My Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader AU inspired by Disney’s Enchanted (2007). Reader (a princess cosplayer in their late 20s) meets Miguel O’Hara (a 31-year-old single dad who doesn’t believe in fairy tales) and his adorable five-year-old daughter Gabriella O’Hara on a night in Nueva York
Warnings: A fluff story with just a sprinkle of Miguel angst
Spanish used (I used SpanishDict): Papá (Dad); Por el amor de Dios (For the love of God); Dulce sueños, mi solecita (Sweet dreams, my lovely sunshine); Tres leches cake (Sponge cake soaked in three different types of milk)
“And they lived happily ever after.”
That was the phrase you could always count on at the end of each and every one of your favorite fairy tales.
That was the ending phrase that marked new beginnings, and so far, your “new beginning” seemed like it had already ended.
You let out a sigh, shifting against the metal bench you sat on. It was only about an hour or two since you were kicked out of your apartment; your landlady was tired of you being behind on rent.
To be fair, it wasn’t really your fault (as you tried to justify to yourself). An aspiring fantasy cosplay designer in their late 20s who wanted to create princess gowns, you moved to Nueva York to learn from the best of fashion houses that specialized in haute couture.
As with moving to any major city with bright optimism would go, you found yourself rejected by every fashion house you could find and turned to part-time work as a princess cosplayer for children’s parties.
Even though you loved your work as a princess cosplayer for children’s parties, the lack of pay from the job led you to this exact moment: sitting on a bench in full princess wedding cosplay and a suitcase carrying all of your belongings (a few day outfits in dire need of a good wash, your sewing machine, and a bundle of fabric scraps and accessories you kept with you at all times) parked next to you.
Ok, maybe it was your fault for thinking you could “make it” in a big city, as if you were in a movie or something.
At least no one was gawking at you. Nueva Yorkers were far too busy rushing into the many restaurants and shops around you or too busy looking at their phones to notice a “princess” in their midst.
Endless layers of ivory tulle pooled around you, shifting against each other as you lifted your feet a bit in front of you to make sure the dirt on the Nueva York streets didn’t soil your gown.
Your fingers picked up one puff sleeve larger than the size of your head that began to droop down your shoulder. If you weren’t kicked out of your apartment, you would have admired your handiwork on the gown—a white puff-sleeved wedding dress with a bustier corset and full floor-length skirt outlined with ruby lines.
You found the dress at a thrift store the day you moved to Nueva York and brought home to spruce it up, and had finally gotten the chance to wear the gown earlier today for a job at a child’s birthday party where you were requested to be the child’s favorite princess in a wedding gown. Your coworker, who was supposed to show up as the prince in his wedding attire, didn’t even come.
Despite that, you made sure the child had a fun party by putting on your best impression of the princess character and singing the character’s songs to the best of your ability along with the child.
A sad smile graced your lips for the first time tonight. You always believed that magic could be found in situations of the unexpected, but right now it was hard to find even a speck of magic to make you feel better.
A groan escaped from your lips as your tiara began to slip, too. The gold tiara nestled on top of your head, gleaming against the Nueva York moonlight with beaded ivory flowers you hot-glued onto the tiara, weighed on your head—heavy with all the questions that began to swirl in your mind.
I’ll have to call my boss tomorrow. How do I tell her I’m basically homeless now?
What do I do now? Where do I go?
You didn’t have any friends in Nueva York you could call about your current situation. Sure, you were friendly with your party princess coworkers, but you all didn’t contact each other much outside of work. Thus, staying with a friend wasn’t an option for you.
Your hands made their way up to your head, plucking off the tiara. You held it in your hands, gliding your fingers over the beaded flowers of the tiara.
The irony of being dressed like a princess in a wedding gown about to ride off into the sunset—or in your case, moonlight—to “happily ever after”—
“Are you a princess?” A voice so small, yet filled with such curiosity and wonder, interrupted your thoughts.
Your eyes flew up from your tiara to the owner of the voice. The voice matched its owner—a little girl who stared at you with awe.
She didn’t look older than six, and seemed to be into soccer, as you saw from her lavender soccer uniform, waves of dark-brown hair tied up in a ponytail, and black-and-white soccer cleats. She also had the same look most children from the parties you worked at did—her warm brown eyes widened and her mouth on the brim of beaming the sunniest of smiles at seeing you like you were a dream come true.
You couldn’t help but offer her a smile; even if your day wasn’t going great, you could at least make someone else’s day great.
“I suppose you could call me that,” you let out a twinkling laughter—one that you learned to perfect for your princess performances. “I’m Princess Y/N.”
“I knew it!” The little girl’s eyes shined like stars—something you’ve never seen in your time in Nueva York. “You’re so pretty, and your tiara is really pretty, too!”
Your lips broke into the most genuine smile you’ve had all day. “You think so?” You held the tiara out so that the little girl could see it better. “Wanna know a secret?”
The little girl nodded, her ponytail swishing behind her.
“I made it myself,” you revealed in a loud whisper, the back of your hand to the side of your lips.
“How?!” The girl’s eyes brimmed with even more curiosity. “I didn’t know princesses could make their own tiaras!”
“Princesses can do or make anything they want,” you winked, making the little girl giggle. “Whether that’s wearing a tiara from the castle’s treasury or sprucing up a $5 one with some paint and a hot-glue gun.”
As the child marveled at your tiara, you scanned your surroundings for any parent or guardian that the girl might’ve belonged to. To your slightly-frantic dismay, the people around you and the little girl just keep walking.
“Little one, could you please tell me your name? And if you have a mom or dad or guardian nearby?” you offered the child a kind smile. If you didn’t find the girl’s parent or guardian and the girl was lost, you decided that you would help the girl and call the police.
She nodded, her eyes moving up from your tiara to you. “I’m Gabriella, but you can call me Gabi. I don’t have a mom, but I have a—”
“Gabriella!” A man’s voice, ringing with worry, called out to the little girl. The thuds of his footsteps grew in volume as he ran towards the two of you and cut through some pedestrians who shot him annoyed glares before resuming their walks.
“Papá!” Gabriella ran towards the man, who immediately scooped her up in a hug.
“I was so worried I lost you,” the man’s voice was only filled with immense relief. He towered over most of the pedestrians around the three of you. While he was tall (probably over 6 ft tall), you couldn’t see his face clearly as he buried his face in the crook of Gabriella’s neck.
Gabriella managed to wiggle her way out of her father’s tight grasp. “I wasn’t lost, I was talking to Princess Y/N!” Gabriella turned around in her father’s arms to smile and point at you.
At the mention of your name, the man’s head snapped up. Your breath hitched; from the way his dark-brown hair swept back and curled at the nape of his neck to highlight his chiseled cheekbones and jaw to the biceps that bulged under his cerulean blazer and white dress shirt, he was nothing short of handsome. The warmth in his hickory orbs at the sight of Gabriella only made him more handsome in your eyes. Truly, he put every prince cosplayer you’ve ever worked with to shame.
Despite the sharp lines under his eyes, Gabriella’s father looked like he was in his early 30s. Before you could introduce yourself or assure him that his child was safe all along, his thick, dark brows furrowed and his eyes narrowed at you. The warmth in his eyes grew cold with suspicion as he scanned you from head-to-toe. You didn’t seem like a threat, but as a father, he had to ensure his child’s safety.
“I was going to call the police if I couldn’t find her parents or guardians,” you couldn’t help but let out in a rush, feeling the need to explain yourself as he continued to eye you.
After what felt like an eternity of his eyes on you, and after him coming to the silent conclusion that you were telling the truth, Gabriella’s father set her down and took her hand in his. He stepped forward, extending his free hand to you.
“Thank you for looking after my daughter,” he gazed down at you, his frown lines softening as he offered you a half-smile. “I’m Miguel O’Hara.”
“Of course,” you brought your hand toward his. He didn’t hesitate to give you a firm handshake. “I’m Y/F/N Y/L/N. I’m a princess cosplayer for children’s birthday parties, so before you think I’m some criminal trying to kidnap children or something here, I just got kicked out of my apartment right after coming back from a job in this getup.”
Gabriella’s father’s–Miguel’s–smile vanished, his brows knitting together. “Why’d you get kicked out?” His accusatory tone indicated that he wondered if you got kicked out of your apartment for any suspicious reasons on your part.
You fought the urge to let out a sigh of frustration. You had a long day, and you didn’t appreciate being interrogated by this frustratingly-handsome man, but you also understood his concern since he almost lost his daughter.
“I got kicked out because I was behind on rent,” you turned your face away from him in an effort to hide any hint of embarrassment on your face. “Being a princess cosplayer for children’s parties doesn’t exactly help pay bills. After I got kicked out, I ended up sitting here and Gabriella came up to me.”
“Ah,” Miguel paused and pursed his lips, not really sure what to say to make a stranger (a stranger he now deemed as a harmless stranger) feel better. “I’m…sorry you got kicked out.”
“Thanks,” you turn your face back towards him, now being the one to give him a half-smile. Your eyes then flitted down to your and his hands, realizing he didn’t let go of your hand till now. Miguel’s eyes followed yours before retracting his hand with an awkward chuckle. In a poor effort to make things less awkward, you echoed with an awkward laugh of your own.
You were both too preoccupied with this interaction of pure awkwardness to notice Gabriella’s movements. The top of her head barely reached Miguel’s knees as she switched her gaze from her father, to you, and then to your hand in his. A grin a mile wide lit up on her face at the two of you, the wheels in her five-year-old brain turning.
“Papá,” she began. At his daughter’s voice, Miguel instantly turned his attention back to her and kneeled down to face her at eye level.
“I’m glad you’re safe, but what did I say about running off by yourself and talking to strangers?” You noticed that Miguel’s voice was nothing but soft and gentle every time he talked with Gabriella.
Gabriella clasped her hands behind her back. “That I shouldn’t. I’m sorry, I just wanted to talk to the princess. But I won’t go away by myself anymore, pinky promise.”
She held out her right pinky in front of her, making her all the more adorable. Miguel only had a soft smile as he linked his own right pinky with Gabriella’s.
You eased down on the bench in silence, your half-smile growing as you watched the way Miguel gently swiped away a stray eyelash from Gabriella’s cheek with the back of his thumb.
You could tell he was having a hard time kneeling down with his tall stature and all by the way he shifted his feet behind him. But you also noticed that he kept kneeling down to appear somewhat at eye and height level with Gabriella so that he could foster healthy discussions between the two of them as parent and child. Even though you just met him, you could tell Miguel was a great dad and that he loved Gabriella more than anything.
“I’m just glad you’re safe.” Warmth flooded Miguel’s eyes, pooling gold flecks of honey into his hickory irises. “Let’s go home, say ‘goodbye’ to the princess.”
To your and his surprise, Gabriella shook her head furiously, her ponytail swishing from side-to-side. “No!”
“‘No’?” Miguel raised his eyebrows.
“Princess Y/N doesn’t have anywhere to go,” Gabi pointed at your suitcase, jutting her bottom lip forward to convey a pout. You were shocked she even noticed your suitcase; kids were more perceptive than you thought.
“Oh, don’t worry about me, little one,” you waved your hand, mustering the best and brightest princess smile you could put on. “I’m just waiting for my prince to arrive on his horse. Should be aaaany minute now.”
Miguel’s gaze moved from Gabriella, to your suitcase, to you. He didn’t know whether to stare at you to wonder if you were being serious about the prince and horse (and considering that this was Nueva York, he shouldn’t be too surprised), or whether to smile at the fact that you were trying to keep up your princess act for his daughter.
“My dad’s better than any prince,” Gabi took Miguel’s large hand in an effort to drag him closer to you before turning her head to gaze up at Miguel. “Papá, can the princess please stay with us? We have a ton of rooms at home.”
“No, no, it’s ok—,” you began, shaking your head as furiously as Gabriella earlier.
“—Gabi,” Miguel interrupted you, his tone a bit more firm this time. His gaze set on your gown. “We can’t just take in a stranger.”
Miguel’s hands rested on his hips. He couldn’t help but eye you from head-to-toe again, as if he was trying to detect any threats you might have kept hidden from him.
You met him with a raised brow and crossed your arms in front of your torso, trying to appear nonchalant and ignore the heat growing on your cheeks at the fact that his eyes were on you again.
“But you always tell me that it’s important to help others,” Gabriella put her hands on her hips, comically trying to mimic her father. “And I wanna help my best friend Princess Y/N.”
Miguel’s gaze dropped from yours as he turned to his daughter faster than lightning. “What? I thought I was your best friend,” he mumbled. You let out a snort of amusement as you heard Miguel sound genuinely hurt.
“You can be my best friend again if you let Princess Y/N stay with us,” Gabriella ran over to your side, sitting next to you on the bench.
She wrapped her hands around your arm and clung to your side despite the layers of tulle from your gown that tried to push her away. “I don’t want Princess Y/N to be cold and outside by herself,” Gabriella whispered as she nuzzled her face against your arm, making you want to shed tears right then and there.
“Gabi, I’ll be ok,” you tried your best to muster a smile and appear brave for Gabriella. However, you knew you weren’t being too convincing, and the subtle crack in your voice stemming from your fear of the unknown was something you didn’t miss.
Miguel didn’t miss it either as he let out a huff mixed with annoyance at the situation and sympathy for you. His daughter was just as stubborn as he could be, but she also had a point.
As a gentleman through and through, Miguel didn’t feel right with the thought of leaving a lady like you out alone on the streets of Nueva York in the middle of the night (even if he didn’t question that you could defend yourself). What kind of example would he be setting for Gabriella if he just took her home and left you here?
“…Alright, you can stay with us if you’d like,” Miguel let out with a sigh. “And you can stay with us while we help you find another place in Nueva York to live.”
Your eyes widened at his decision, and your mouth opened instinctively to say “No, thank you,” but before you could do so, Gabi ran back to her father and into his arms.
“You’re the best, Papá!” Gabi’s statement made Miguel beam brighter than the Nueva York moon as he scooped her up. If you weren’t so shocked by his proposal, you would’ve laughed at how endearing he was with his daughter.
The two O’Haras then looked at you while you tried to weigh your options, but you only had two:
1. Stay with this little family you knew nothing about
2. Stay out on the streets until you could contact your boss (which would be tomorrow because you felt unprofessional at the thought of calling your boss after work hours).
“…If it’s not a bother, I would love to take you up on that offer,” you shot Miguel a smile that no doubt displayed all your nerves at the thought of staying at a stranger’s place, even though he was the one who just offered a stranger to stay at his place.
“You’re coming home with us!” Gabriella raised her hands in the hair before scrambling down from Miguel’s arms. Before you could blink, she took your right hand and tugged on it so you could stand up.
“I suppose I am,” you chuckled, letting yourself be led by the child. As you stood up, you used your left hand to smooth the front of your gown’s skirt. You then turned to your suitcase, only to see Miguel approaching it.
“I got it, if that’s ok with you,” Miguel tipped his head to the direction of your suitcase.
You nodded, letting yourself be led forward by Gabriella to the direction of wherever you assumed would be her and Miguel’s home.
“Thank you. Not just for that, but for letting me stay at your place,” you turned to Miguel as he held your suitcase’s handle with his right hand. “I haven’t met many kind people in Nueva York since I moved here.”
“It’s Nueva York, not exactly the place for fairy tales,” Miguel’s sarcasm slipped out with ease without thinking. He then turned his face away from you when he realized that he forgot you were literally dressed as a princess. “Sorry.”
“No, you’re right,” you shot him a rueful smile as the two of you fell into the rhythm of walking next to each other with Gabriella skipping between you two. With one of her hands in your right hand, Gabriella took Miguel’s left hand in her free hand. “I learned that the hard way.”
“Happens to the best of us,” Miguel replied with more sincerity this time. He didn’t follow up with anything more to say, and the two of you walked past a few streets in awkward silence, the beeps! of Nueva York taxis and Gabriella’s upbeat humming filling the silence.
“We don’t need to take a taxi?” You spoke up, trying to start a light conversation with Miguel.
“Our place is just a few minutes from here,” Miguel answered, his gaze set straight ahead. “I was actually taking Gabi to get ice cream not too far from our place after we came home from her game.”
“Yeah! We were gonna get ice cream!” Gabriella’s eyes lit up even more at the mention of ice cream. “‘Cuz I scored a goal today! Wait, Papá, where’s my ice cream?”
“I didn’t know I was in the presence of a soccer star,” you grinned down at Gabriella, who smiled toothily up at you at being called a “soccer star.”
Despite fatigue from a long day of work seeping into Miguel’s bones, his lips couldn’t help but falter from their default straight line into a small smile at seeing Gabriella be so happy—more so than usual—in your presence.
“Well, you ran off, so I had to find you and didn’t get us any ice cream,” Miguel raised an eyebrow down at Gabriella, but his smile and tone indicated his light teasing. “We can get ice cream tomorrow.”
“Yay!” Gabriella raised her hands in the air, swinging your and Miguel’s hands that held hers forward. She then spotted what you assumed to be her and Miguel’s building, and broke away from the two of you to run up ahead.
“Por el amor de Dios,” Miguel muttered under his breath, stopping in his tracks and leaving your suitcase next to you. “Why does she have to run so fast?”
Without another word, he sprinted after Gabriella. You were surprised Miguel could run fast, but you figured that it made sense since he was so built.
Your gaze then panned from Miguel catching up with Gabriella and scooping her up with ease to the building before the three of you.
The building was easily the tallest apartment complex in Nueva York—a cylindrical tower with state-of-the-art glass architecture.
“Wait…,” your voice trailed off, your chin tipped up as your eyes could barely find the tip of the tower. You walked toward Gabriella and Miguel while hauling your suitcase behind you. “Where are we?”
“We’re home!” Gabriella answered in Miguel’s arms as he stood at the glass door entrance. “Papá and I live at the very top!”
Your eyes couldn’t help but bug. “Miguel, is it ok if I ask what you do for a living?”
“I work in research,” Miguel chose not to elaborate, making him sound like a secretive spy in a movie without meaning to. His broad back was to you as he used his free hand to place a card against the building’s recognition panel. It beeped green, and you couldn’t help but feel like you were breaking into a top secret government building.
“Papá’s the king of his job!” Gabriella chimed with adorable pride for her father as the building’s double doors swished open.
You could only assume “king of his job” meant Miguel was either the CEO of his workplace or he held an equally (if not more) high position, but you decided it wiser to not ask any more questions for the time being as you followed Miguel and Gabriella to the elevator.
The elevator, like the rest of the building, was cylindrical, and spacious enough that you guessed it could probably hold 300 people at a time.
Once inside, Miguel tapped a code into a panel, which you assumed was for accessing his and Gabriella’s home. Your shock at everything only increased when the elevator ascended past 50 floors.
Gabriella yawned when the elevator passed 90 floors, prompting Miguel to rub her back as she snuggled her face against his shoulder. It wasn’t long before she was out like a light, snoozing in her father’s arms.
“Dulce sueños, mi solecita,” Miguel pressed a kiss on the side of Gabriella’s head. A yawn unleashed from him after he pulled back from Gabriella at the same time you let out your own yawn.
Your eyes met his, and this time Miguel gave you a kinder, more sincere smile as he found it funny that the two of you yawned at the same time.
Ding! The elevator chimed once it reached the 99th floor, the top floor of the building. You tried to brace yourself for whatever the 99th floor would reveal of Gabriella and Miguel’s home, but nothing could’ve prepared you for the sight before you.
Their penthouse gleamed in all its glory, from the marbled flooring to the ivory spiral staircase in the left corner. To the right of the penthouse was a massive kitchen with a sleek silver stove and a matching fridge, island, and cabinets.
The walls were a simple white which only added to the elegance of the entire penthouse. You noticed that instead of expensive paintings that usual penthouses would have, the walls of this penthouse were decorated with Gabriella’s various crayon drawings and framed pictures of Gabriella and Miguel from her birth till now.
Your eyes were captivated especially by those framed pictures, but before you could step into the penthouse, you turned to Miguel.
“Shoes off?” you whispered, not wanting to wake Gabriella. He answered you with a nod.
You shuffled off your [your favorite color] sneakers, placing them on a three-tiered shoe rack by the elevator door as Miguel did the same with his burgundy dress shoes and Gabriella’s soccer cleats.
“I didn’t know princesses wore sneakers,” Miguel’s voice was so quiet that you couldn’t tell if he was serious or teasing.
“This princess does,” you straightened up, grinning as if you were revealing a corporate secret. “Especially if she has to run after children all day. Though I only wear sneakers when I get to wear long gowns like these that hide my shoes. Wouldn’t want to ruin the magic for the children.”
“We can’t have that, now, could we,” Miguel flashed you a tiny grin, revealing his pearly whites. “If children realized princesses wore sneakers and not glass slippers, that could mean the end of the multiverse.”
You raised your eyebrows in surprise at Miguel’s attempt to engage with you in light teasing and chatter. “Multiverse, huh? Are you into comic books or superheroes or something?”
He merely shrugged his free shoulder as if to appear cool and not “nerdy.” “I like science.” Before you could ask Miguel more about what comic books he liked, Gabriella stirred in his arms.
Miguel wheeled your suitcase to you with his free hand. “I’m going to set Gabriella down in her room,” he whispered in an even more hushed tone. You had to stop yourself from chuckling; he just didn’t seem like the type of person who whispered often. “Make yourself at home in the meantime.”
He made a beeline for the spiral staircase, going up to where you assumed were all the penthouse’s bedrooms.
You knew he said “make yourself at home” out of customary politeness as a host, but you found it difficult to instantly “make yourself at home” in such a grand place.
Not knowing where to sit or where you could sit, you took a step toward a wall lined with framed pictures of Gabriella as a baby.
Some photos were in black and white, some were in full color. A smile bloomed on your face at how cute Gabriella looked as a baby, her smile in the pictures just as infectious then as it was now.
You also noticed, however, that Gabriella’s biological mother wasn’t in the picture—in any picture on the walls, to be exact. There didn’t seem to be a partner in Miguel’s life either, from the way all the family pictures on the walls—whether they were selfies taken by Miguel or pictures taken by someone else—only had him and Gabriella in them.
Your nosy mind couldn’t help but wonder if maybe Gabriella was adopted or conceived via surrogate. The first theory, you crossed out of your mind since Gabriella looked too much like Miguel to be adopted.
Before you could come up with other theories, Miguel descended the spiral staircase and made his way over to you with a neatly-folded bundle of clothes in his hands. He stopped next to you and followed your gaze to one of the pictures.
“I took that one on Gabi’s first birthday,” a soft smile on his face as he nodded to a framed picture of a baby Gabriella laughing at the camera despite having globs of cake and frosting on her face and on the teeny swirls of her wavy brown hair. “That was the first time I ever made tres leches cake, and I’d say she loved it.”
You grinned at the picture, before biting your bottom lip in hesitation. “May I ask you something? You don’t have to answer.”
Miguel simply nodded, his eyes roaming the various pictures of Gabriella. “Has it always…been just you and Gabriella?” you kept your eyes forward. “Sorry, I know it’s a personal question.”
You turned your face towards Miguel, whose eyes set on a black-and-white picture of a sleeping newborn baby Gabriella, swaddled in a blanket and bald head covered with a cap.
Various emotions flickered in Miguel’s eyes which you could only guess to be sorrow, pain, confusion—not at Gabriella in the picture, but at whatever or whoever was related to that picture.
“It has,” Miguel answered simply and all-too-quickly, the edge in his tone indicating that he didn’t want to talk about the subject more.
He blinked, as if telling himself to forget whatever or whoever he was thinking about, and turned his attention back to the bundle of clothes in his hands.
“I wasn’t sure if you had any clothes to wear in the meantime, so I grabbed a couple of old shirts and pants from my closet,” Miguel’s voice sounded more normal now. “I don’t think we’re the same size, but you can keep these and use them as you see fit.”
“Thank you,” you took the bundle of t-shirts, dress shirts, and sweatpants from Miguel’s hands. You were sure they were a couple sizes larger than your own based on Miguel’s figure, but the gears were already turning in your brain on how you could sew and upcycle some of these.
“I’ll show you to your room,” Miguel began walking to the direction of the stairs once more, his long and fast strides making it difficult for you to keep up with him.
You followed him up the stairs to a spacious floor with around five rooms and more walls framed with Gabriella’s drawings and pictures of Miguel and Gabriella.
“That room is my office, and the other one is for storage,” Miguel pointed to two rooms to the right at the end of the hallway. “That’s Gabriella’s room and my room’s next to her’s.” He pointed to two rooms on the left at the other end of the hallway.
“And this will be your room for the time being,” he led you to the room in the middle next to his room. “It’s our guest room.”
He opened the door to reveal a neat room with a queen-sized bed with a bedside table, and desk near the window area. The entire room matched the sleek aesthetic of the penthouse, from the silver bedside table to the matching desk.
You rolled your suitcase onto the polished wood-tiled floor of the bedroom, noticing a private bathroom just a few feet away from the bed. The whole room felt more like a hotel room than any bedroom you’ve ever been in.
“If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask me,” Miguel stood at the door, his hands naturally resting on his hips. “Our laundry room is downstairs next to the kitchen if you need to use it tomorrow.”
“Thanks again,” you turned your attention away from the desk to Miguel, giving him a smile you hoped that conveyed your immense gratitude.
Miguel simply nodded and turned his back, ready to leave.
You couldn’t help but wonder and worry if he was mad or something at you asking him that question earlier. You also finally noticed the shadows of gray that filled the lines of stress and fatigue under his eyes.
Whether such stress and fatigue was from his mysterious job or from almost losing Gabriella tonight, you didn’t know. But what you did know was that you wanted to tell him the words on the tip of your tongue—maybe to prove to him you weren’t a bad person trying to take advantage of his and his daughter’s kindness, or maybe because you just wanted to say the following:
“Good night, Miguel. I hope you sleep well.”
Miguel stopped in his tracks before turning his face back towards you. “What?” Your statement shocked him; it had been a while since someone other than Gabriella wished him a good night’s rest, and it had been an even longer while since he actually had a good night’s rest.
“I said ‘good night’?” You cocked your head to the side, worrying if you said something wrong again. “And that I hope you sleep well?”
“…Night,” Miguel mumbled, turning his back to you once more, his hand resting on the door knob. “I hope you sleep well, too.”
The door knob clicked after Miguel ducked his head below the head of the doorframe and made his way out of the room.
You stared at the closed door for a few seconds before making your way over to the closet. It was roomy and empty, with only hangers in it. You carefully peeled your gown off your body and hung it on a hanger.
The gown took up a good quarter of the closet’s space from its sheer size alone, but you had a garment bag in your suitcase you could use.
Putting the gown in a garment bag and taking a bath will have to wait till tomorrow. You didn’t fight the urge to let out a yawn. Sleep. I need sleep.
You didn’t even think twice about putting on an old white t-shirt and gray sweatpants from Miguel—both oversized on you—until you stepped into the marble-tiled bathroom and glanced at your reflection in the mirror.
I sure don’t look like a princess now. You let out a chuckle before brushing your teeth.
It wasn’t until you set your tiara (you didn’t realize you were still wearing it) down on the bedside table and settled into your new bed that your mind wanted to keep you awake with various thoughts.
I’m wearing a stranger’s shirt and pants. A very handsome stranger. And I’m sleeping in his house.
Wait, that sounds wrong. You shook your head before turning to rest your head on the other side of the plush pillow.
I probably shouldn’t have asked him earlier about whether it was just him and Gabi.
I don’t want to bother Miguel any more than I already have.
Before you could let more intrusive thoughts swim in your mind, another yawn escaped from your lips.
I’ll figure my life out tomorrow and be out of here before we all know it…
The same time you drifted off into dreamland, Miguel stared up at the ceiling of his own bedroom next door.
It had been a long day for him, from almost losing Gabriella to taking in a woman who dressed up as a princess for a living.
Did I just let a stranger into my house?
She won’t stay here long. We’ll be back to our own lives as soon as possible.
And with that, Miguel nodded to himself. Logically, or at least logically to him, it shouldn’t take more than a few days to find a new place for you to stay in Nueva York.
Miguel was someone who despised the unexpected—he was used to being in control so he could know what would happen next. So that his daughter could be safe. So that he could feel safe.
Gabriella randomly running away from him at the ice cream shop was unexpected. And you…you were definitely unexpected. While Gabriella liked you and you seemed like a nice enough person, a smidge of distrust for you gnawed at Miguel’s mind.
However, it was your words that bugged him more.
“I hope you sleep well.” Can’t she tell I barely get any sleep?
He let out a puff of air through his nose, only to be surprised by a yawn that followed. It wasn’t long before his eyelids began to droop.
Despite everything that happened today, little did Miguel know that he was going to get better sleep tonight than he did in ages.
🍓 Strawbetty’s notes: If you read all the way to here, Miguel gives you a 🍓 :D. I’m gonna make a separate post with more of my author’s notes on this fic later but for now I’m eepy :’)
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