Oh, that sounded bad.
I rephrase it for her.
“We can tell a princess story.”
We slide onto the sofa, crayons and a paper pad in her lap, her back propped against my chest.
“Who’s drawing?” I ask.
“Jaden...” she chirps.
“All right. I’m drawing,” I say, picking up a crayon.
Her head leans against my shoulder, her hands reaching for my hair.
“Once upon a time... there was a princess...” I say, drawing the first lines. “She had long chocolate brown hair and hazelnut eyes...”
* * *
SENNA
It’s alreadyone o’clock in the afternoon, and my heart beats to tear my ribcage open.
As if wrestling with jitters is not bad enough, panic courses through me as I remember why I’m going where I’m going.
As much as I hate it, I’ll have to face my family soon. After nearly five years of silence, that’s a scary thought.
I drop my suitcase in my SUV and double-check the garment bags. I packed a few evening gowns and a couple of tuxedos.
A smile tilts my lips as the memory of that man comes to me.
Hmm…
Jaden Taylor.
Hopefully, he’ll keep my mind away from things.
It’s almost two o’clock in the afternoon when I pull in front of Jill’s. It doesn’t take long before I start glancing up and down the street, looking for him.
I wish I had his phone number.
Nervous, I check the time again. The thing is, if he doesn’t show up, I don’t want to go to that event either.
Before I know it, it’s thirty minutes past the hour, and I almost pull a muscle craning my neck and surveilling the street, hoping to get a glimpse of him.
As time goes by, it’s clear that he won’t show up.
Forty-five minutes later, I’m still in the parking lot only because I’m debating with myself whether to eat at Jill’s or not before heading home. Pressing my forehead against the steering wheel, I let out a long exhale.
My fucking luck.
I finally straighten up and run my hand through my hair, tossing a glance in the rearview mirror.
Okay. I guess I’ll eat something, go home, and forget about this.
A soft knock on the driver’s side window makes my heart jump.
I roll the window down.