“No thanks. I’ve got some work to try to take care of, if she’ll nap for a little bit.” Like finding a job since, according to the email I received this morning, the Philadelphia Ballet is currently at the start of practices for their next ballet. That means ten weeks of practice followed by ten weeks of performances. So at least five months before they’re auditioning again, if they take a month off after wrapping the show. Five months. I can’t wait five months to find a job. My savings wasn’t big to start with, and it’s quickly dwindling already.
Why do diapers cost so much?
“Want me to pick you up dinner later on my way back?” he asks, and I shake my head.
“Stop being nice, Jamie. It’s not like you, and I don’t like it,” I finally admit, not caring that I sound ungrateful.
“You’d rather I was an asshole?” He smirks and crosses his thick arms over his chest, stretching his gray Kings hoodie tightly around his muscles, and my mouth waters.
“Yes,” I admit forcefully, expecting a fight.
A fight I can handle.
He arches his brow, and a dimple pops in his left cheek. “You’re a pain in the ass, you know that, right, Carmichael?”
I smile back at him and kiss Kyrie on the head. “Such a charmer, Murphy.”
But as he walks away, everything feels a little more right in my world.
“Sweetheart.” A soft hand brushes the hair away from my face, and for a moment, I think it’s my mother’s hand and know I must be dreaming. “Ashton...”
“Don’t wake her up, Sabrina. That’s cruel. The poor thing probably hasn’t slept a full night in days. You remember what that’s like.” That voice..is that Jamie? No. I don’t recognize that voice.
And that realization has me opening my eyes faster than I ever dreamed possible.
The woman sitting primly on the edge of the coffee table, her dark hair pulled back and a black sweater set on is unfortunately not my mother, no matter how many times I wished she were, growing up. “Mrs. Murphy?”
My eyes fly across the room to the swing next to the couch in full view of the sun.
Kyrie sleeps soundly, safely buckled in place. Her small arms clutching an even smaller stuffed bulldog. One the spitting image of Gus, which Rosie brought by yesterday.
Thank God. She’s still sleeping.
But I don’t know the woman standing in front of her—or, wait. Do I?
“Miss Annabelle?” I question my first ballet teacher, and both women smile.
“Sweetheart, you’re a grown woman,” Finn and Jamie’s mom reminds me. “I think it’s okay if we’re on a first-name basis.”
“What are you doing here?” I ask before thinking better of it. This is her son’s house. I’m the intruder here, not her.
“Well.” She crosses her legs and places her hands in her lap, poised and beautiful. A lifetime spent living life in the public eye makes each move look polished and purposeful. “I spoke to my son, and he may have filled me in on everything that’s happening. I wanted to check on you. How are you holding up, Ashton? How is your mother?”
“We brought coffee,” that masculine voice announces, and I see Mr. Murphy come into view, a beverage carrier holding four pink Sweet Temptations coffee cups in hand. “Give the girl a minute to wake up before you grill her, Sabrina.” He hands his wife a cup of coffee and kisses her on the forehead before handing one to Annabelle and one to me. “Hey, kid.”
“Hi, Mr. Murphy.”
“Aiden,” he grumbles. “I always hated being Mr. Murphy.” And just like his son, his eyes zero in on a sleeping Kyrie. “And there’s the little princess who has everyone so out of sorts.”
“What is it with you Murphys calling her a princess?” I ask, still groggy before I realize how that sounds. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. I called you that when your mom and dad brought you home from the hospital too, kiddo. Speaking of,have you talked to your dad yet? Does he know you’re here? I’m sure he’d like to?—”
“No,” I interrupt him gently. I haven’t spoken to him since I told him I was in Kroydon Hills and Mom had been in another accident.”
The look Aiden Murphy shoots my way looks so much like one I’ve seen on Jamie’s face, it’s almost identical. It’s easy to see where the giant jerk gets his good looks from. His smile too. “Don’t you think you should call him?”
“At some point, I will.” I sip my coffee, enjoying the delicious caffeine as the first jolt of it hits my system just as Kyrie opens her eyes and her mouth, letting out an ear-piercing scream.
