In a low voice, he urges, “Push me away, Nina,” as if he’s testing me.

But I’m the one doing the testing; he just doesn’t know it. So I respond with, “Why?”

“Because you love your husband.”

Pushing my hands against him, I move him away from me as I say, annoyed, “I do love him.”

As if no exchange was just made, he opens the door for me to get in.

When we pull onto the main street, he asks, “Where do you live?”

“Why?”

“Because I’m gonna drive you home,” he says, turning his head to look at me.

“The Legacy.”

The silence between us is noticeable, and I wonder what he’s thinking about, but I don’t dare ask. He doesn’t allow my thoughts to overtake me when he turns on the stereo. I can tell he’s using the music to distract himself as he keeps his eyes focused on the road. I’m granted no reprieve as I consider the thoughts that are scrolling through his head right now. But this part is out of my hands because I won’t push. The fall has to come of his own accord. I’m merely the fuel that feeds the vehicle; he’s the one driving it. And the destination is up to him.

When he pulls up to my building, he shifts the gear into park and looks over at me. He hasn’t spoken for the whole drive, and he remains quiet. Wanting to calm any of the ill thoughts he may be having, I lean back against the seat and let out a sigh as I roll my head over to look at him.

Our eyes are locked, his hands still on the steering wheel, and then I say in a soft voice, free from any undertones, “I had a nice time with you.” Declan nods, unconvinced, so I give him a little more to coax him, adding, “I don’t have many friends.”

When I say this, his hands drop slowly to his lap as he turns slightly towards me. He then asks, “What about those two hundred people on the guest list for the event you’re planning?”

“If it weren’t for Bennett, those people wouldn’t give me a second glance. I wouldn’t want them to though.”

“Why not?”

“Because they’re nothing like me.”

“How so?”

Lowering my head to focus on my hands, I don’t respond immediately.

“Tell me, Nina.”

My eyes meet his when I say, with a faint shake of my head, “I guess I’m still trying to figure that out.”

“And your husband?” he questions.

“He doesn’t know this. He thinks I enjoy the lunch dates with the wives when I really loathe them.”

“Then why even bother?”

Letting go of a deep breath, I say, “Because I want to make my husband happy.”

He leans over, closer to me, resting his arm on the center console, and asks, “And what about you, Nina? Who wants to make you happy?”

“Bennett makes me happy,” I state while his eyes search my face for hints of dishonesty, and I make sure to let a few slip through. Drifting eye contact for a quick second with a couple rapid blinks. Nodding my head as if trying to convince myself of the words. Giving him a small, feeble smile.

I know he buys it when he says with a gentle voice, “Liar.”

He’s confident in his accusation when I don’t deny it, instead, lowering my head and then turning to look out the windshield.

“I should go.” Looking over at him, he gives a nod before I open the door and step out.

Walking to the lobby doors, he calls out, “Nina.” When I turn around, he’s rolled down the passenger window and gives me back my earlier words. “I had a nice time with you too.”

I reward him with a smile before walking away.

When I get inside, I drop my purse and coat on the dining room table and call Baldwin to let him know I got a ride home with Declan and that I won’t be needing him for the rest of the evening. I then walk over to inspect the kitchen and notice there is fresh fruit in the fridge that wasn’t here this morning, letting me know that Clara has already been here and left.

Knowing there won’t be anyone else coming or going, I waste no time pulling my coat back on and grabbing the keys to one of the cars before picking up my purse and heading back out.

When I pull out of the parking garage, I make my way to I-55 and start heading south to the one person who has always been there for me. It’s been a few weeks since I last saw Pike, and I miss him. I allow myself the excitement of finally being able to see him—my best friend since I was eight years old.

I pull off the interstate and into the town of Justice before turning onto 79th and heading to the trailer park. When I pull up to the mobile home, I park the car, and take out the key I hide in the lipstick case in my purse. The bass of someone’s car stereo rattles the windows, and when I unlock the door and step inside, I relax my shoulders, sigh, and walk straight into Pike’s arms. I take his warmth, comfort, and everything else only he can offer as he holds me.

With my arms wrapped around him tightly, I breathe, “I’ve missed you.”

“It’s been nearly three weeks,” he says as he pulls back to look at me, and when he does, I can see he isn’t happy. “Where the fuck have you been, Elizabeth?”

“ELIZABETH,” MY DADDY calls from outside my bedroom door. “Do you need help?”

I struggle against the glittery fabric of my princess dress, trying to find the opening of the sleeve to push my arm through. “No, Daddy,” I call out in a heavy breath as I twist and wriggle my arm, finally finding the opening.

“Are you ready?”

I walk over to my toy box and pull out the pink plastic heels that match my sparkly dress. Putting them on, I walk over to my door and open it. I look up at my daddy, holding a small bunch of pink daisies.

“I never get tired of seeing that beautiful smile,” he says before taking my hand and kissing the top of it. He then hands me the flowers. “For my princess.”

“Thanks, Da—I mean, Prince.”

“May I come into your castle?” he asks, and I grab his hand, pulling him into my bedroom—our pretend castle for the afternoon.

“Would you like some tea?” I ask as we walk towards my table by the window that my tea set is on.

“I would love some. My travel from the kingdom was quite long.” I watch him sit down on the small chair and giggle as his knees hit his chest.

Daddy and I do this often, have our fairytale tea parties. I don’t have a mommy or any brothers and sisters to play with, but that’s okay because I get to have him all to myself. He has the prettiest blue eyes, but he tells me mine are prettier.

Setting down the flowers, I pick up the teakettle and pretend to pour him a cup while he eyes the plastic pastries, swirling his finger above them as he decides on the one that he wants.

“Daddy, just pick one.”

His eyebrows shoot up in excitement when his hand lands on the yellow cupcake with sprinkles. “Ahh, this one looks delicious,” he says before taking his make-believe bite and then licking his fingers.

I scrunch up my face, squealing, “Eww. Princes don’t lick their fingers.”

“They don’t?”

“No. They use napkins.”

He looks around, and says, “Well, I don’t have a napkin, and I don’t want to waste the icing on my fingers.”

I exaggerate thinking, tapping my finger on my cheek, and then agree, “You’re right. Okay, you can lick your fingers.”

We sit in the sunlight of my room and have our fairytale tea, talking about the flying horses we’ll ride to the magical forest.

“Did I tell you about Carnegie, the caterpillar I met?” he asks.

“You met a caterpillar?”

“The last time I took my steed to the forest, I did. He had some berries he shared with me and then told me a secret,” he says quietly as he sets down his teacup.

“What?!” I exclaim excitedly. “You met a talking caterpillar?”

“I did. Do you want to know what he told me?”

“Mmm hmm,” I hum, nodding my head energetically.