Page 40 of Obsessed Mr. O’Brian

His half-lidded glance steals the strength from my legs and I wobble. He pulls me tighter against his side, kisses my temple, and shifts his daughter higher on his chest.

My knees threaten to give out. Artur O’Brian is too much. Anyone would think we’re a happy couple on an outing with our daughter.

When he turns the corner and leads us toward a semi-reflective storefront, I marvel at the bustling cityscape.

Unlike the constant bustle of New York City, the air carries more of a carefree lightness, and most people smile as they pass.

My attention locks on a woman across the street. Recognition sweeps through me, but by the time I turn to look over my shoulder at her, she’s gone.

Only one person has such perfect blonde hair, a model’s lithe physique, and babydoll features.

Regina.

Except Regina is dead. I couldn’t have seen her in a reflection. Couldn’t have spotted her scowling at us from across the street.

Artur guides me toward the door. An attendant opens it for us, and we shuffle through as though separating isn’t an option.

Lola’s fist tightens in her father’s shirt. I study her face for signs of distress. My stomach drops at the fear in her eyes, but she otherwise seems healthy.

Before the attendant can start their spiel, I ask for a chair in a quiet corner and reach for Lola. She leans toward me but changes her mind at the last second and clings to her father.

Her eyes dart around the store.

“What’s wrong, lovie? We found the princess’s castle with pretty dresses, but you look scared,” I say.

She swaps thumbs for a grip of Artur’s collar at his nape.

Artur’s heartbroken expression squeezes my heart.

“She’s fine, Artur. Maybe we should go somewhere else?”

“It doesn’t matter where we go. She hates shopping for clothes almost as much as she hates eating, but I thought… I’m sorry. We’ll go,” he growls.

I grab his arm with both hands and halt his retreat.

“Wait. Squat down,” I demand.

He misinterprets my request and leans down to put his ear near my lips, but I don’t have anything secret to confide in him. I watch Lola.

She scrabbles to be higher. She’d climb onto the top of his head if she were able. I push his shoulders until he stands upright again.

Haunted little eyes dart around the room.

“What if there’s a dragon hiding in the racks?” I ask.

The attendant—a girl who can’t be even a full year out of high school yet—clues in and mock gasps.

“Certainly not! We ran that pesky thing away just last week. It can’t be back already,” she exclaims.

I’d bet my left ear she was in theater and is either a babysitter in her spare time or an older sibling. She’s quick-witted, playful, and totally devoted to her role. Without missing a beat, she clasps her hands in front of her chest and asks, “Whatever shall we do?”

I nudge Artur with my elbow.

He clears his throat and takes up the mantle like a true knight in shining armor.

“We vanquish it, of course. Onward!”

For the first few steps, Lola clings to him as though expecting a monster to jump out at any time, but halfway through the room, she begins to relax. From her elevated height, she confirms no creatures lurk between the rows, but Artur completes a full circuit before sending me a helpless look over his shoulder—because of course there was no way I was not going to trail behind him.