A/N: Some of you have been asking for a peek into the Father/ Daughter relationship, so here it is, a few peeks through the years.

Thank you to all who read, review, PM and support Late Night Thoughts- 20 Years Later. Reaching chapter 50 is quite a milestone. It's been a fun, yet unexpected ride...and I'll keep writing it as long as you want to read it. As many of you know, this story was meant as a one-shot and grew so I'm truly thankful for the support.

I own nothing. I hope you enjoy!

Christian and Phoebe

~Phoebe at 4 months old~

I hear Phoebe gurgling in the baby monitor. Ana is fast asleep; these late night feedings are really taking their toll on her. Slowly, I climb out of bed, careful not to wake Ana, and check on the baby.

Phoebe is lying on her back, cooing at the mobile in her crib.

"Daddy's here, baby girl," I whisper.

She turns her head slightly and gazes up at me. Instantly, I feel a lump in my throat. She's the most beautiful sight I have ever seen.

She looks back up at her mobile and begins to babble.

"Are you singing Phoebe?" I wind up the mobile and it plays a lullaby.

She continues her babbling, her legs kicking into the air. I reach over to touch her and she grabs my finger with her tiny delicate hand.

My heart stops. I'm putty to this little being.

"Do you want to dance baby? Daddy will dance with you," I whisper.

I can't resist. Gently, I lift her out of her crib, cradle her in my arms, and sway to the music, softly humming to her.

"One day you're going to break your Dad's heart and we'll dance at your wedding. Please don't rush. I don't think I could bear it."

Her gray eyes are watery, her eyelids getting heavy, and soon she falls back to sleep.

I lower her back into her crib, move the rocking chair next to the crib, and watch this little miracle sleeping in front of me in wonder.

~Phoebe at five~

"Listen Ros, I don't care what that fucker says, that's a deal breaker. We can do this nicely, or I can tear that fucker's company to pieces. That's his choice. "

Phoebe skips into my office, singing a tune to herself.

"Daddy, I'm having a tea party. I want you to come."

"Hold on a minute Ros." I press the mute button "Phoebe, Daddy is working on something very important. I can't play right now. Why don't you go find your brother or mother to play with?"

"But I want you, Daddy." She pouts, her bottom lip protruding out. She looks adorable like that.

"Sorry, Phoebe... not this time. Off you go." I wave my hand dismissively, gesturing her to leave my study.

"Okay, " she says sadly. She turns and leaves, her head hanging low.

I resume my conversation. "Okay Ros, where were we?"

As Ros is talking, I can't get Phoebe's sad expression out of my mind. It breaks my heart. I'm a shit.

"Ros, Send off the proposal, as is. If it's not signed by midweek, I'm going in for the kill. I have things to do now. Enjoy the rest of your weekend."

I hang up the phone and walk up to Phoebe's room. Her door is slightly ajar. I peek in and watch her. She's wearing her plastic rhinestone sunglasses, big brimmed straw hat and a purple feather boa, talking on her toy phone.

"No Ros, I told that fucker that's no deal," she yells into her hot pink plastic phone.

I wince. Although it's funny as hell that she's pretending she's me… Ana is always on me about watching my language when the kids are within earshot.

Slowly, I open the door. She stops and quickly turns her head in my direction.

"Hi Daddy." She gives me a big cheesy smile, her missing bottom tooth makes her even more adorable. This little girl melts my heart.

"Now Phoebe, you shouldn't use that word." I'm biting the inside of my cheek, desperately trying to suppress a laugh.

"Which one?" She cocks her head, her plastic sunglasses slide off her ears, hanging crooked off the bridge of her nose.

"The one that rhymes with ducker."

"But you say that. You say that all the time."

"Hmm…you're right. Daddy said a word he shouldn't have said. I won't do it again," I lie.

"Maybe you should go to the Time-Out chair with Mr. Beary."

"Your Teddy Bear is in time-out?"

"Yes. He never listens to me." She says, shaking her head in frustration.

"I understand that." I'm married someone just like that, I laugh to myself.

"Where is Mr. Beary?"

"Over there." She points in the direction of the rocking chair I used to spend hours rocking her back to sleep on. There's Mr. Beary… sitting on the rocking chair with his plastic sunglasses and… what the fuck… a set of fucking handcuffs around his cloth paws.

"Ah, Phoebe. Where did you get those handcuffs?"

"Handcuffs?" She furrows her brows.

"The silver things Mr. Beary is wearing."

"Oh, that's a brace wet. I think it's Mommy's. I found it in your room."

What the fuck is a brace wet? Ah, I get it. Okay, I need to navigate this.

"Did you ask Mommy if you could take her bracelet?"

"No." She looks down to the floor, twisting her fingers together.

"Do we take things that don't belong to us without asking?"

"No." She continues to look down to the floor, shaking her head slowly.

"Very well. Next time this happens, you will be sitting in Time-Out with Mr. Beary. Do you understand?" I'll have to remember to lock those up next time they come out.

"Yes, Daddy." She looks back up at me with a mischievous grin. "Do you want to come to my tea party?"

Quickly, I look at my watch. I have a million emails to go through, but I can't resist her sweet face.

"Sure, baby girl."

"Good. Sit here." She pulls out a tiny child-sized chair. This is not an option for a man my size.

"I think I'll sit on the floor, if that's alright with you." I crouch down to the floor and sit with my legs crossed.

"Okay. Here." She extends her arm and holds out a hot pink feather boa.

"What do you want me to do with this?"

"Oh, Daddy. Wear it like me." She rolls her eyes.

"Eyes, young lady," I remind her. I hate that habit.

"Sorry." She pouts. Do all little girls instinctively know all you have to do to melt a father's heart is to pout at them?

"Phoebe isn't the boa for girls?"

"Mommy said girls and boys can do the same things, so you can wear that."

"Your mother told you that, eh?" No arguing that point. Reluctantly, I wrap the hot pink boa around my neck. I look like a feathery ass.

Phoebe pours some lemonade in my tiny tea cup. She watches me, waiting for me to drink it.

I bring it up to my lips and take a tiny sip. It's disgustingly warm.

"Do you like it?" she asks.

"Mmm. Delicious," I lie.

"Would you like a cookie?"

"Did Gail bake the cookies?"

"Yes. Chocolate chip."

"Yes. Thank you. I'll take a cookie."

She hands a cookie to me with a smile on her face and takes one for herself. We each take a bite. Gail's cookies more than make up for the vile lemonade.

"I love cookies." She rubs her hand over her belly.

"Me too." I grin.

"I want cookies at my wedding when I get married."

"Married? Isn't it a bit soon to plan your wedding?"

"I am." She grins, the chocolate staining her front teeth.

"You are? Really? And who is the lucky groom?"

"You!" She points her tiny index finger at me.

"Me?"

"Yup," she agrees, nodding in agreement.

She kills me. Every time I think I can't love her more, it happens. My heart is bursting with emotions.

"I thought you wanted to marry that boy singer whose songs you're always singing."

"Nope. I'm marrying you," she says as she adjusts her boa.

I tap my index finger on my cheek. She leans in and gives me a sweet chocolaty kiss. This little girl is going to break hearts and the first one will be mine.

~Phoebe at 14~

"Where do you think you're going dressed like that?"

"The mall with Jennifer and her mother."

"Does your mother know you're going out?"

"Not yet."

"When were you planning on telling us?"

"I'm telling you now." She smirks.

"You can't just go to a mall on a whim. You know the way it works. You need security with you."

"Dad, I'm just going to the mall." She rolls her eyes. I hate that disrespecting eye roll.

"I don't care where the fuck you're going, you need security. My daughter isn't going anywhere without certain measures in place."

"But Dad, Roger isn't here today."

"Then you're staying home," I state emphatically.

"But that's not fair!" She folds her arms and stomps her foot, in her patented Phoebe Grey over-dramatic fashion.

"When it comes to your safety, being fair is low on my list."

"Why can't I just go to the mall, like a normal girl?"

"Because there are sick fuckers out there. I'm not compromising your safety because you want to play at a fucking make-up counter with your friend. If you wanted to go out, you have a protocol to follow. You know this."

She doesn't see the big picture, there's a degree of danger in everyday life when you come from wealth. The possibility of a kidnapping for our money or an enemy I may have made along the way looking to stick it to me.

"Please Dad. Just this once?" she pleads.

"No." I shake my head. There's not a fucking chance in hell I'm budging on this.

"I'll ask Mom."

"She'll agree with me."

"I hate you Dad," she screams, her face red with anger, tears trickling down her cheeks.

"Get in line," I snarl.

"I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!" She storms off toward her room.

I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose, feeling a fucking headache coming on.

She will be the death of me.

~Phoebe –Present Day~

I stroll into the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee. Phoebe is standing behind the counter with bowls and boxes of different ingredients laid out across the counter top.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"I'm making a cake." Her gray eyes… my eyes, gazing back at me.

"A cake, eh?"

"Yes. A chocolate cake."

"I helped you bake a cake a long time ago."

"I remember that. I had to bake a cake for a Girl Scout Merit badge."

"We made quite a mess baking that cake." I laugh.

"Yes, we did. Err…Do you want to help me?" She shrugs.

"Is this cake for us or your boyfriend?"

"Kyle. He likes chocolate cake, like you." She smiles warmly.

So the fucker likes chocolate cake like me. What does he want a fucking parade? A lot of people like chocolate cake. Let's see him buy a company, break it off in little pieces and sell it, making a tidy profit… then I'll be impressed.

The last thing I want to do is something nice for the fucker who's dating my daughter, but Ana reminds me all the time that she's growing up. With college just around the corner, we should take any opportunity we have to spend time with her while she still lives home. Sometimes I really hate when my wife is right, but she is.

"Alright. Let's bake a cake." I rub my hands together and accept my fate.

"Really?" She raises her brow.

"Sure, why the fuck not?"

"Language young man!" She smirks.

My words come back to haunt me. I smirk back and nod.

"Do you have all the ingredients you need?" I ask.

"I just need the baking powder. Do you want to get it?"

"Okay." I reach into the cabinet, pull out the box, and place it on the counter.

"Uh, Dad. That's baking soda. You did that last time too." She giggles.

I love her sweet giggle, music to my ears.

"Why do these ingredients have practically the same name?"

"Idiot fuckers naming them?" She looks at me cautiously; probably worried I'll reprimand her language. But the truth is sometimes I get a kick out of Phoebe talking like her old man.

"You're right, idiot fuckers." I wink and nudge her side with my elbow.

We mix the ingredients together with much less mess than we had all those years ago. Too bad Ana isn't here to witness this. Phoebe pours the batter in the cake pans and puts them in the oven.

"Okay, Dad. The cake has to bake for thirty minutes. I guess you can go back to your work."

"Or I can stay here with you. We can watch your cake bake."

She looks at me quizzically.

"Err…okay." She shrugs.

"So, is school going okay for you? Are you having any issues with your classes?"

"No, it's been a pretty easy year. Straight A's, so far."

"I'm happy to hear it." I clear my throat. "This boy you're seeing, does he get good grades?"

"His name is Kyle, Dad. And yes, he gets very good grades too. He's smart like you."

"He must be smart if he asked you out."

"Oh, Dad." She rolls her eyes, her face reddened from blushing.

"You know, you're so much like your mother. You always defy me."

"What do you mean? I listen to you."

"When you were a little girl, I told you to wait until you're twenty seven before you started to date. You're ten years ahead of my schedule."

She blinks a few times and chuckles. "Twenty seven Dad? Seriously?"

"Thirty seven would be better," I joke.

"You know, you used to tell me that I'd get warts if I kissed any boys."

"I meant it. I still do. I hope you've followed my advice."

"I'm happy to say I'm wart free." She smirks.

We both know she's kissing that boy. At least she's throwing me a bone and humoring me.

"Good grades or not, this Kyle is not good enough for you."

"Why would you say that? You barely know him."

"Phoebe, in my eyes, no boy will ever be good enough for you. Trust me, on the day of your wedding you can expect me to try to convince you to jump on a ferry to the San Juan Islands and hide out for a few weeks instead of marrying. I'm sure your Grandpa Ray probably tried to convince your mother to run in the other direction on the day of our wedding. No one is ever good enough for Daddy's little girl. Christ knows… I'm not good enough for your mother. Lucky for me, she thought differently."

"Oh, Dad." She blushes again.

"Just try to cut me a little slack if I give you a hard time. I'm just adjusting to my little girl growing up and leaving her old man behind."

"I'll never leave you behind. I can't imagine a day without talking to you. I like our talks…well, most of the time."

"I'm glad to hear that." I look at her and sigh. "You're such a lovely young lady, just like your mother."

"Really, you think I'm like Mom? So many people tell me I'm just like my father…you know…bossy and impossible." She covers her mouth with her hand and laughs.

"We know what we want and we're not afraid to make it happen."

"That's right. Our way is the right way," she agrees.

"Always Phoebe. Always. You know I love you. I don't mean to give you a hard time."

"I know, Dad. I figured out a long time ago, it's just the way you love people. Can you just try to be nice to Kyle?"

"I can…try."

Phoebe- at 37: (aka Late Night Thoughts- 40 Years Later)

Leaning back in my office chair, I grab my cell and call Phoebe.

"Hey Phoebe, your Mom is meeting me for lunch today. Would you like to join us?"

"Sorry Dad, I'd love to but I have wall to wall meetings at GEH in the afternoon. There's some fuckers from Hong Kong coming in next week and I need to prepare. I have to be out of the office by five to go to little Christian's soccer game. I can't get away this afternoon."

"Spoken like a true future CEO. How's my little namesake doing?"

"He's doing great. Why don't you and Mom come to the game? It's at the soccer fields at six o'clock. I'm sure he'll be thrilled to see you. And you can help keep an eye on little Grace Ann for us."

"We wouldn't miss it for the world. See you then. And if those Hong Kong fuckers give you any problems, let me know."

"Don't worry. I got this. I've learned from the best. I'll see you at the soccer fields tonight. Laters, Dad."

"See you tonight, Phoebe."

After I hang up, I stare straight ahead at the black and white photo of Ana that fucker Rodriguez took all those years ago and smile. My little girl is a business wiz, like her old man.

I'm feeling fifty shades of fortunate.