Konstantin frowned, like her thoughts were broadcast for him to see. Maybe they were. Emma had never had much of a poker face. Her dad used to tease her that he knew if she liked her presents, not by what she said when she opened them, but by what her face told him.
Some days, she missed her parents so much, it hurt.
But like Konstantin, they’d opted to eject Emma from their lives when she wasn’t what they wanted her to be.
“You look sad. What is wrong?”
He was asking her that? Like he couldn’t guess, if not the particulars, then certainly the gist. And what gave him the right to ask any personal questions of her at all anyway?
She inhaled and exhaled repeating patience, compassion and tolerance under her breath.
“Mom gets like that,” Mickey said practically. “She says memories aren’t always warm and happy, but they’re still ours. It’s okay if I cry sometimes when I remember Snoopy dying.”
“Who is Snoopy?”
“He was the family dog for the people I worked for.”
“Worked?” he asked, probing.
But she ignored him and started handing out plates.
“You are not their servant. They can come get their food if you insist on feeding them.”
“Don’t you think they deserve to eat?” she asked with bite.
He frowned at her, seemingly shocked. “You know me better than that. They could have gotten takeout. I would have paid for it.”
“Instead, I chose to feed them.”
“I don’t remember you being this stubborn.”
“Life changes us all.”
Lunch was a surprisingly convivial meal, but by the end of it, Mickey was practically drooping off his chair. “Nap time for you.”
“I will be here when you wake,” Konstantin promised, staving off what might have been another meltdown.
Her son was tired. He was stressed. And he was terrified he’d never again see this person he’d just gotten to call Dad.
Mickey insisted on holding Konstantin’s hand on the way to his bedroom.
“Bathroom first,” Emma insisted from behind them.
Mickey didn’t argue, just veered into the brightly tiled, if small room. She’d taken pains to get the grout clean, but she didn’t have the knowhow to fix the chips in the mosaic tiles put in when the house had been built more than forty years ago, or the money to hire someone to do it.
Emma tucked her son in, but he extracted no fewer than three more promises from Konstantin that he would be there when Mickey woke up.
She just hoped the Prince realized how important it was that he keep that promise.
CHAPTER TWO
TYPICALLY, THOUGH THEY were in her home, Konstantin led the way as they left Mickey’s room.
He went unerringly into the living room. Granted the house was small, so it wasn’t likely he’d get lost looking for the main rooms.
Konstantin sat on the yellow sofa and she settled into the chair covered in a complementary print of Aztec shapes. The Prince looked around the room, his intelligent gaze taking in every detail.
It wasn’t high-end decor, but it wasn’t shabby. Emma had decorated with Southwestern designs and bright colors, throwing rugs over the wooden floors that needed refinishing.