“You’re smiling,” she said.
I hadn’t even noticed.
The days passed blessedly quiet.My mom had been giving me the cold shoulder since finding out about my date, but I couldn't bring myself to care.
By the time we reached the community center on Monday afternoon, Ava was practically vibrating with excitement. She’d memorized half of her lines already and insisted on performing them in the car the entire drive over. It was adorable. And loud.
I walked her to the rehearsal room, kissed the top of her head, and watched her dash toward her mentor with a confidence that still surprised me every time I saw it.
“Have fun, sweetheart.”
“I will!” she called over her shoulder before disappearing into the tangle of kids and volunteers.
My chest warmed. For Ava, this place wasn't just a program. It was a world opening up.
I headed toward the coffee shop with my tote bag full of sketchbooks, pencils, markers, and the spark of an idea that had been growing louder in my mind for days now.
A book.
Arealbook.
My first since Ethan died.
And not just any book, a roller derby story with a brave, scrappy little girl inspired by everything I’d seen lately.
I’d even almost emailed my agent last night, typing up a whole pitch before chickening out and closing my laptop. Maybe today after I get the opening sketches right.
Belle was already behind the counter when I stepped in, hair piled high in a messy bun, eyeliner sharp enough to kill. She wiggled her eyebrows at me.
“Well, well, well. Look who’s glowing today.”
“Please don’t,” I groaned.
“Fine, fine. Latte for the lady in denial?”
“Yes. Please.”
She handed me my coffee with a knowing smirk, and I took it to a small table tucked away by the window, quiet and perfect for hiding from the world.
I spread out my supplies, opened my sketchbook, and started drawing.
It didn’t take long for the rest of the world to fall away.
Line by line, stroke by stroke, the character in my mind took shape, wild-haired, skinned-kneed, grinning like nothing could knock her down for long. My fingers moved on instinct, guided by something deeper.
I was so deep in it, I didn’t hear the bell above the door. Or footsteps. Or anything at all until— A throat cleared softly.
I froze, pencil hovering in midair.
Then a familiar voice. It was quiet, warm, and somehow nervous.
“Is this seat taken?”
My heart leapt straight into my throat when I looked up. There he was.
Alex Prince stood in front of me, hands in his pockets, hair slightly tousled from the wind, his beard the perfect scruff level, and that soft smile, the one that had completely undone me, spreading across his face.
I felt my own smile pull wide before I could stop it.
