Ideally, you choose what pieces they get in their hungry little teeth.
Kane didn’t want to give them us—however much ‘us’ there is—and at some level it makes sense.
He wanted to keep his time here private and special.
With the divorce and the whole leaving his company thing, that’s more complicated. People have been speculating, making him out to be some kind of rich supervillain. But that’s all surface stuff.
It doesn’t matter.
And in all my dealings with him, he’s never been the bad guy.
I look up at the stars again through the window, my chest tight.
My eyes burn, but I don’t let myself cry.
I’m still light on tears.
When Gramps died, I cried so much I felt sick for days. But I never let myself cry over men who aren’t family.
Not since Kelso.
Kane’s rich laughter floats up to my room.
He chuckles at something Sophie says, and the ache in my chest threatens to swallow me.
Deep down, I know he’s right.
We should’ve been more careful.
It was a blunder any way you slice it, getting involved with an older, divorced single dad papa bear.
A broken beast who’s plodding away from his past, ripping up everything in his path.
But I’ve gottenso attachedto the kids.
And so addicted to our sunny, sexy mornings together.
Ugh.
I glance at my iPad on the desk.
Why mope when I could be channeling this pain?
Sophie still needs shoes.
The soft pink skin I laid over a template of her orthopedic shoes doesn’t seem half-bad now that I’m giving it a second look.
Candy cloud, I call it.
The airy textures highlight the natural bulkiness of her shoes rather than hiding it.
When you can’t change what’s etched in stone, sometimes the only thing you can do is own it.
That’s the idea here.
No shame.
I want her to own this fragile part of herself she’s spent years trying to hide.
