“Only when she thinks I can’t hear her.”
My heart gives a little twist. I’d finish that shitebag off, physically and financially, if I didn’t think that would give him something else to bleat about. Some other thing to blame her for.Waste of fucking oxygen that he is.
“You have a heart like the Beast.”
“Well, that’s ...” Enough to bring a lump to my throat. “Very lovely to hear. But, you know, Clo, when you get to be a big girl, and you date?”
“I gotta be at least thirty-five before I do that. Mommy says so.”
“Good. I like that plan.”
“Aunt Lola says Mommy should’ve taken her own advice.”
“Yeah, maybe.” Feckin’ Lola. “Anyway, what I was trying to say is that it’s not up to you to find the prince within the beast.”
“What do you mean? Inside like he ate him?” She looks horrified.
“No, nothing like that.”Jesus.How to put this? “Well, the Beast, on the outside, is all rough and tough and growly.”
“But he has a good heart.”
“Yeah, I know. But you shouldn’t have to dig for it. He should be able to show you it, shouldn’t he?”
“Like, under his fur?”
“No, not quite like that—”
“Hey, Matt!”
I glance up to find Mila standing in the line ahead of us.The Lord works in mysterious ways, his miracles to feckin’ perform!Why the hell did I think it was a good idea to give dating advice to a five-year-old, again?
“Excuse me,” Mila murmurs, smiling in apology as she makes her way back along the line toward us.
“Hi!” I think I might be smiling too much or too weirdly, judging by Mila’s expression as I press a kiss to her cheek. I’d be happy to see her any time, but I’m feckin’ ecstatic not to have to dig myself out of that. “How are you?”And bless you for saving this poor, wretched fool.I’m hardly fit to give dating advice.
“I’m good, and kind of surprised to see you here. Aren’t you supposed to be with Fin and Oliver?”
“I’m meeting them later.” So I’m a soft touch because, yes, I had plans of my own, but after Seb’s selfishness, what could I do but step in? Letty has had so little time to herself since she came back. I mean, I offered to get her help—a nanny or an au pair—but she says it’s too much. It’s like she thinks she can negate her ex’s lack of parenting by overcaring or something.
“And who have we here?” Mila asks, hunkering down in front of my niece.
“This is Clodagh, my niece. Clo, this is Mila, my friend.” She’s also Fin’s wife. She might even be the making of him.
“Hi,” Clo answers shyly, holding her rose to her chin.
“Hello, Clodagh. I love your dress.”
“I’m Belle, and Uncle Matty is Prince Charmin,” she says, glancing up at me.
“That’s me. Prince of the toilet paper. Are you here to seeBeauty and the Beast?” Stupid question. Or maybe not, as her expression flickers.
“You meanAladdin?”
“I thought we were here to seeBeauty and the—” I halt and glance at the Perspex-covered ad poster on the theater wall. “Aladdin. Right.” I glance down to mydate. “You think your mother might’ve mentioned it.”
“But you got the tickets,” Clodagh says, tapping me with the rose.
Aubrey, my personal assistant, did. But there’s no need to let her take the praise. The line begins to move up ahead, so we do too. “SoAladdin,” I say, sending Mila an apologetic look.
