“You… you want to see it?”
“Only if you want me to.”
Ronan could not explain why, but he felt a kinship with the little girl. It wasn’t that they spoke often or interacted that much at all. It was more the way she looked at him, that she was not scared or wary. And that she seemed to want him to notice her.
It was just so different to how everyone else in his life behaved when they met him. And he’d had no idea until now how much he needed it.
“Here!” A decision was made and she rushed into the office. Ronan saw her coming and pushed back his chair, at which point she hurried around the table and then jumped onto his lap.
“Urgh!” he groaned as she clambered on.
“It’s a drawing!” she explained as she spun about and sunk into his lap. She was so small and light, so fragile. “I… I drew it myself!”
“Did you now?” he asked.
“Yes, I did,” she said proudly as she held it out to show him. “See! It’s… it’s… do you know what it is?”
He really didn’t. Ronan looked at the colorful drawing, which to his eyes was a mass of squiggles and random lines that he supposed was meant to be a picture of something, but he couldn’t in his life tell what.
“Why don’t you tell me what it is,” he said.
“It’s us!” she exclaimed, very nearly falling from his lap as she tried to point to the drawing. “See! This here is Mommy! This is me! And this—this! This is you!”
Ronan could see it now… almost. It was no work of art. If she hadn’t explained, he certainly would not have guessed. But through the messy lines, he could just make out the drawing of Thalia, Olivia, and himself. They stood in a line holding hands, smiling he guessed… one big, happy family.
Ronan felt the stirring sensation creep through his stomach. His chest tightened, and his throat ached at the same time. He bit it back, allowing the smile to grow on his lips. “Ah, I see that now,” he said. “Yes, that’s what it is. Well drawn.”
“Do you like it!”
“Iloveit,” he said, finding that he meant it.
“Olivia!” Thalia was in the doorway. Her eyes were narrowed at her daughter, and her hands were on her hips. “What are you—what did I tell you?”
“He asked to see it!” Olivia explained. “He did!”
“I told you…” She moved into the room but didn’t hurry around the table. “You are not to disturb His Grace.”
“I didn’t!”
“It is fine,” Ronan assured her. His hands had moved around Olivia without him even noticing, keeping her on his lap. “Truly, I do not mind.”
“You… you don’t?” she asked as if she did not believe him.
“Did you see what she drew?” he asked. “It is only right that she wanted to show it off to her muse.”
Thalia’s expression was hard to read as she looked from him to her daughter. Her face was tight, biting into her lip, and her eyes had turned watery. “I saw it,” she said, her voice dropping. “What did you think?”
“He liked it!” Olivia cried. “Tell her!”
He laughed. “I did, very much. Thank you for showing me.”
Thalia met his eyes, and she mouthed the word ‘thank you.’ He returned it with a smile and a nod of his head, wanting her to know that he truly did not mind.
“Come on now…” Thalia held her hand out for her daughter. “We’d best leave His Grace to his work.”
Olivia scrambled down from his lap and hurried to her mother. Once she took her hand, Olivia started to lead her from the room.
Ronan watched them for a moment… his chest still tight… the smile still on his lips. And before he was able to stop himself, or think if it was the right thing to do, he spoke.
