“I had to get my tiara.” She lifted a hand to touch the rim of the plastic crown sitting crooked on her head. “A princess can’t leave home wiffout her crown.”
I took in a deep breath, trying to fill my lungs. “You ready to go get some dinner?”
She nodded.
I slid my thumb under her eyes, wiping the tears away. “You scared me, Princess Dolly.”
“I thought grown-ups didn’t get scared.” She gazed up at me with such trust in her eyes, it almost split my heart into quarters.
“Sometimes we do.” I took her hand in mine. “Now let’s go get you a giant milkshake.”
“Can I have strawberry?”
“You can have whatever you want.” I lifted her up and set her in the back seat. She settled herself in her booster and I shut the door behind her, my head pounding.
I wasn’t used to being responsible for anyone but myself. Thank God Dolly was okay. Tonight was a reminder that I needed to pay closer attention if I didn’t want to get my ass kicked by taking on new responsibilities.
Ten minutes later, Dolly and I joined the rest of the family in a giant corner booth. I wanted a beer, a huge, frothy mug that would ease the tension bunching my shoulders and help me forget how I’d almost lost my niece. But I glanced around the table at my nieces and ordered a sweet tea instead.
While I waited for the waitress to bring us our drinks, my gaze swept around the room. Not much had changed since I sat in this same booth with my gramps and nana all those years ago. I wondered if Gramps remembered. It seemed like the man had turned in on himself when his wife died, lost his will to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Maybe I could help him get a little spark of the fire he used to have burning inside him rekindled. For Char’s sake. And the sake of the gaggle of girls that surrounded him in the cracked vinyl booth.
As I tried to come up with a way to cheer up Gramps, a deep, throaty laugh captured my attention. Someone at the bar was having a good chuckle over something. They probably hadn’t burned mac and cheese and abandoned a four-year-old earlier in the evening. As my gaze stopped on the pair at the bar, my breath caught. Granted there weren’t too many places in town to grab a bite to eat, but what the hell was Zina doing here tonight?
“Excuse me for a minute?” I scooted out of the booth, leaving Gramps alone with the girls. He could keep an eye on them for a quick minute from across the restaurant.
None of them even looked up. Jordan was on the damn phone. Izzy had covered her paper menu with a kaleidoscope of drawings, Frankie dug through the bag that seemed to be glued at her hip, and Dolly had lined up the sugar packets and was waving her wand over them like she was casting a spell. Gramps cupped his mug of coffee between his hands and stared across the room. They’d be okay for the couple of minutes it would take me to see what Zina was up to.
As I approached, I couldn’t help but notice the guy sitting to Zina’s right. Was she on a date? I almost turned back, but as she leaned over to grab her purse she saw me.
“Hey, what brings you into town tonight?” She straightened and set her purse on her lap.
“Dinner with the family.” I gestured over my shoulder.
“Looks like you brought the whole crew.” Zina glanced toward the table.
“Yep, my plus five.”
She tapped the shoulder of the guy next to her. “Zeb, you remember Alex Sanders, don’t you?”
Zeb turned around, a slightly older-looking version of the football star I remembered from high school. “Hey, man.”
I clapped him on the back and he shuddered. Zina put a hand on her brother’s arm. “It’s okay.”
Shit. I’d heard Zeb came back with PTSD. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think.”
“He startles easily,” Zina explained.
“I’m fine.” Zeb shook her off and thrust a hand out to me. “How have you been?”
I took it. “Great. It’s really good to see you again.”
“You, too. Is that your family over there?” Zeb asked.
I released my grip and nudged my chin toward where I’d left Gramps and the girls. “Yeah, my nieces and my grandfather. They don’t get out much.”
Zina laughed. “That explains it.”
“What?”
