Page 95 of Just Ten Seconds

And every time I look at Amanda, I see Dean staring at her too, in wonder.

During the second act, the play turns suspenseful. My own heart is racing as Jafar retrieves the lamp. I feel a small hand grip mine, and I grab hold of it. Amanda has taken my hand as her eyes are trained on the show. Her other hand is in her dad’s. As she clasps on to us, we stare at her and then at each other.

The moment is magical.

I wish it could last forever.

“And when Genie appeared out of the smoke, I didn’t know where he had come from!”

Amanda is still talking about the performance an hour and a half after the show ended. We walked to Carmine’s, a popular family-style restaurant in the Theater District. It’s boisterous and loud with conversation as everyone dines under portraits of celebrities, surrounded by red velvet drapes and large menu signs on the walls. While dirty-water dogs on the sidewalk had been fine for lunch, I was pretty damn excited to know Dean had already planned on dining here for dinner. We devoured a tray of veal scaloppine and a spaghetti bolognese and let Amanda order an oversize dessert for us. The ice cream sundae we’re sharing is only half as sweet as the way Dean grazes my knee under the table.

This romance between us is new, and I respect how he is keeping it out of sight from Amanda. She’s so young and already experienced a loss. If he and I don’t work out, I’d hate to know how that might affect her. For now, I’m content to take it slow as far as Amanda goes.

“So, what did you think of your first show?” I ask Dean as he licks a spoonful of ice cream.

“Amazing. I’m sold. I’ll definitely go again.” He wipes his mouth with his napkin.

“We can see Kinky Boots next!” Amanda chimes, and Dean and I give her a swift, “No,” followed by a laugh at our inside joke.

“Why not?” She pouts.

Dean grins at his girl. “Let’s stick to the Disney shows. Maybe you should put tickets to Frozen the Musical on your Christmas list?”

“That’s a really good idea. I’ll ask for three. Mara has to come too,” she says, and my heart swells.

“I’d love nothing more,” I say with a sigh and then clear my throat. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to use the ladies’ room.”

Dean calls the waiter over for the check as I’m walking away from the table.

I scurry back and accusatorially point my finger at him. “Do not pay for that while I’m gone. Amanda,”—I’m now pointing at her—“he is not allowed to pay for the bill.”

Dean’s brow is raised, letting me know he refuses to heed my words. “Caveman, remember? I pay. You do enough for us.”

I open my mouth to argue with him, but there’s really no use. He’s too damn stubborn. It also happens to be one of the things I love about him.

I use the restroom and check my reflection in the mirror. Usually, I’d pinch my cheeks to give them a little color, but I find I’m actually glowing. Turns, out that pea-sized amount of happiness Tracey spoke about in the meeting goes a long way.

As I’m walking back from the restroom, I see the back of a man’s head that looks very familiar. Too familiar.

His salt-and-pepper hair is perfectly combed back. His wide shoulders are under a gray suit, and the distinct smell of a cigar is wafting in the air, but no one is smoking.

I walk closer, sneaking a gaze at the man’s face.

“It can’t be,” I say to myself.

I move around the table, ready to laugh at myself for being crazy to think that in a city of over twenty-six thousand restaurants, he’d be here, in the same restaurant as me. Ridiculous, I think, until the hazel-brown eyes of Rick Williams pop up at me like he’s seen a ghost.

“Dad?” I ask, confused.

The last time I saw him was seven years ago at my grandmother’s funeral. He’s gained weight since then, and his hair has more gray in it.

“What are you doing here?” His words are terse as he looks from me to the woman sitting across from him.

I almost didn’t recognize Amy, the woman my father left my mother for when I was just three years old.

“Mara”—Amy seems taken aback by my presence—“I thought you weren’t allowed out of the house.”

My father looks down at my legs, his focus on my ankle where my location monitor was cuffed to me.