Page 27

Ali cleared her throat, attempting to banish the lump forming.

“I do try to be,” Ali rasped, beginning to clam up. Pivoting to the racks of clothes, her hands rose to form a steeple, fingertips tapping rhythmically together. “Let’s find your outfit.”

In society, it was a known fact that the Davenports were—putting it mildly—well off. Further, it was known that their wealth—though vast—paled to the hard-fought fortune of the Pryce family. Not until standing before a literal mansion did Ali begin to comprehend the breadth of their wealth.

Being the sole survivor of two family trees meant Ali financially wanted for very little in life. But the expensive art, decor, and furniture coupled with opulent architecture suggested Ali’s wealth was but a tiny drop in the sea of riches around her.

Prickles of unease spread across her skin, sinking in, adding fuel to her already frantically thumping heart. Her palms went clammy at the sight of the Kandinsky hanging above an outrageous fireplace.

Surely this was some kind of museum, not a home.

Her stomach dropped.

What was she doing here?

“Does your family know you’re bringing a nomadic hermit from off the streets?” Ali asked, voice pitching too high as she rubbed her sweaty palms against her black pants.

Charlotte caught the shift in tone immediately. Her bemused expression softened as she took a step closer, slipping her hand over where Ali rubbed at the pins and needles creeping across her chest.

Warm fingers laced through her own.

“I told them I was bringing you and that you’re a rare jewel,” Charlotte hummed, thumb running over the back of Ali’s, quieting the little voice in the back of her mind vowing she was too much… or not enough. “There will be people who very much fall into the stuffy stereotype expected. But anyone important to me won’t care where I found you. My mother grew up dirt-poor. All they’ll see is the magic of your smile. You’ll have them wrapped around your finger in no time.”

Ali tucked her hair behind her ear, wishing it was just as easy to brush away her insecurities. But, alas. Get a grip! Inhaling a cleansing breath she blew it out, offering Charlotte a gentle upturn to her lips.

“There,” Charlotte murmured, giving Ali’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “Just like that, Sunshine.” Charlotte leaned closer, blue eyes twinkling. “You can hold my hand as much as you want.”

Her free hand shot out, covering the back of Charlotte’s, holding on for dear life.

“Thanks.”

She ran her thumb round and round the center of Ali’s palm and she stood there breathing with her, letting her take the time she needed to slow the sprinting in her chest to a walk.

Dead weight.

But there was no judgement in Charlotte’s gaze, just understanding and a quiet strength Ali wanted to soak up and use to bolster her own fortitude.

A call came from across the room, breaking the quiet moment shared between them and drawing their attention. Ali took half a step back, eyes widening as she gazed twenty or so years into the future. She was shorter, but no less elegant, the mallen streak running through her raven hair was the only significant sign of her age.

“There’s my Cricket,” she greeted, eyes swimming with affection as she pulled Charlotte into a hug.

Her attention shifted to Ali, familiar ocean blue peered straight into her soul. Without warning or hesitation, she let go of Charlotte and tan arms engulfed Ali in a hug, holding her in a way only a mother could.

Thoughts stuttered, fixating on the warmth seeping into her skin, straight to the bone deep grief that never left, soothing and making it ache in equal measure. It had been too long since she received any kind of motherly affection. Her arms moved without conscious thought, snapping around a slender waist to return the hug full force.

How long had it been since she received a mom hug?

Ali clung to her and Diana Carter-Davenport didn’t let go, like she sensed Ali needed the hug and was more than happy to go on holding her for as long as she needed.

“I like this one, Charlotte.”

Ali caught the southern accent faded by time and distance but still thick enough to color her words and make them stand out. There was something so soothing about the cadence of it.

Diana pulled back, eyes lined with soft wrinkles crinkling as she twirled a curl around her finger.

“Aren’t you as pretty as a peach? And just look at this gorgeous head of hair!”

“Just wait until she smiles,” Charlotte quipped, giving Ali a wink.