I study her face. She’s pale, and the light in her gray eyes is vacant, like she’s an empty shell.
“I told you we’re going on a date.”
I place my hand around her waist, yanking her close. She shoves me, but I don’t budge.
Her silky hair falls over her shoulders, and I remove a few strands from her face.
“I told you no. I have things to do.”
I grip her harder. “Have you eaten dinner?”
Her gaze drops to the concrete, then she shakes her head.
“Do you have food at home?”
She nods. “I do.”
“Then why haven’t you been eating?”
She rolls her eyes. “I do eat. I ate a burrito this morning.”
I stroke the side of her cheek, locking my gaze with hers. “Lilac, it’s seven p.m. You need to eat, princess. We’re going to a restaurant, then we’re going skating.”
She folds her arms, pouting. “Please, Irvin. I don’t want to go anywhere. I want to go home.”
I grip her chin, gently stroking her bottom lip. “I want to witness you eat something.”
Her teeth chatter, and she wraps her arms around her body, so I slip my dark coat over her shoulders.
Her eyes glint. For a heartbeat, she relaxes.
“After this date, will you please leave me alone?”
I chuckle. “I’m not making any promises I’m not keeping.”
“Fine.”
She stomps across the empty parking lot to my white Mustang.
I open the door for her. She slides in, strapping the seatbelt across her body.
Once I’m in the driver’s seat, I press the push-to-start button, and the engine roars to life. Then I zoom out of the lot, drumming my fingers on the leather steering wheel.
She plays with the hem of the coat as she holds her head down. Her shadow-gray eyes match mine.
She’s hiding something from me, and she can’t be herself fully. She wears a mask pretending to be happy, but deep downshe’s not—she’s sad, very sad. She doesn’t let anyone in, not even her friends. I’m going to figure out what’s going on with my princess, I vow to myself as I grip the steering wheel tight.
“Where do you want to eat at?”
She rests her head on the window. Sighing, the leather creaks when she sinks into the beige seat. “I have food at home.”
“‘I have food at home’ isn’t a restaurant, princess,” I say, amused.
“Doesn’t the skating rink have food?”
I arch my eyebrow. “Is that where you want to eat?”
“They have the best mozzarella sticks.”
