Her little hand slips into mine as I push open the town hall’s double doors. Warm air, cinnamon, and cider hit me all at once.
The place is buzzing with kids darting between stalls, fairy lights strung across the rafters, carved pumpkinsglowing on every table. Someone’s ladling cider into cups, and I catch the faint smell of chili drifting from the kitchen.
It’s wholesome as hell. Exactly the small-town American life I’d hoped for when I moved here.
And yet I’m scanning the crowd for one person.
“Daddy, can I get my face painted?” Sienna bounces on her toes, pointing at a stall.
Long red waves of hair cascade over an orange padded costume. A green stalk and leaf bob on top of her head, as if she’s just been plucked from the patch.
“Sure.” Taking a few strides over to the face-painting table, I line up in the queue with Sienna, a smile unfurling as Miss Sparks turns her head, her face, half-smeared with orange paint from the kids, pure chaos personified.
And I can’t look away as our eyes meet.
She sucks in a sharp breath, like I’ve just knocked the air right out of her.
I let a slow smile curl at the corners of my mouth. Gotcha, pumpkin.
“Miss Sparks!” Sienna chirps, climbing up onto the chair. “Can you make me a princess?”
Ember’s eyes flick to mine before settling on Sienna. She smiles, warm and a little shaky. “A princess? You’re already a princess in this gold dress. Look at you.” Ember dabs the paintbrush on the tip of Sienna’s nose. “But a little glitter and a few sparkles will go with your outfit.”
I hover behind, arms crossed, fighting a grin as Ember dips her brush into glitter paint. Sienna sits perfectly still, chin high, eyes wide, like she’s at a royal coronation. Ember paints delicate swirls and stars across her cheeks, dusting on enough glitter to blind half the room.
“There,” Ember says softly, leaning back. “The most beautiful princess in Starlight Bay.”
Sienna beams, turning to me with a handheld mirror gripped in her fingers. “Look, Daddy!”
I pretend to shield my eyes. “Wow. I’m not sure I’m dressed fancy enough to walk beside a princess.”
“Then you should get your face painted too,” Sienna says.
“Not happening.” I chuckle, shaking my head. “Firemen don’t get their faces painted.”
“Yes, they do,” Ember says sweetly, her eyes dancing. “Especially dragons. Sit down, Mr. Coleman.”
The way she says my name does something deep in my chest, but I shake it off. “This is a setup.”
Sienna tugs on my sleeve. “Please, Daddy? Please?”
I sigh, defeated. “All right. But if anyone takes a photo?—”
Ember pats the small chair. “Sit.”
I lower myself, moving the green tail on my costume to the side.
She wheels her chair in close, her cast brushing my boot. Her spicy cinnamon scent wraps around me, mixed with paint and a faint trace of kittens that clings to her clothes no matter where she goes. Somehow, it makes me smile.
Her fingers tilt my chin.
I look up into her bright green eyes, and for a second I forget we’re surrounded by kids and pumpkins.
“Hold still,” she murmurs.
“I’m perfectly still,” I mutter.
“You’re twitching.”
