Page 35 of Heartbreaker

And there he is…

Royal-pain-in-the-butt.

Looking better than he should, with his scruffy beard and unkempt long hair.

Hair I vividly remember tugging on as he made me?—

“Jade!” Frankie’s squeal is delightful. Her eyes dance with mischievous excitement as she pulls Royal forward. “Hi!”

“Hi there.” I make sure not to have eye contact with Royal as I squat down to my haunches so it’s easier to talk to Frankie. “You must be Frankie.”

“You know my name?” Her eyes round.

“Royal told me all about you,” I respond.

“Uncle Royal told you about me?” She clasps her hands together in front of her chest and grins. “It’s cause he loves me.”

“I’m sure he does.”

“I love lovelove‘Temporary Love Song’ and ‘Forever in Rewind.’ They’re my favorites.”

“Thank you. ‘Temporary Love Song’ is the very first song I ever wrote,” I tell her. And the only one my record companywould let me record. After that, they made me buy them from big-name songwriters. Like Royal Ewing.

I won’t tell her that part.

“I want to write songs too,” Frankie says. “Uncle Royal is teaching me to play guitar and piano. Then I want to write lots of songs. Better than ‘Old MacDonald.’ That’s so boring.” She rolls her eyes dramatically, making me bite back a laugh.

“Well, you have to work your way up,” I say.

The crowd goes wild—apparently the Vipers scored—and Frankie’s eyes fly to the TV screen on the wall.

“Did Uncle Banks score?” she demands, turning to her uncle.

“No, it was Magnus Forsberg,” he replies. “But Uncle Banks got the assist.”

“Goals are better,” Frankie mumbles, turning back to me.

“They are, but this is a team sport, right? So it takes the whole team to win.” I try to be gentle so she doesn’t think I’m upset with her.

She knits her little brows together as if considering this carefully. “I guess so. I just like it better when Uncle Banks scores. Did you know my auntie Aspen is going to have a baby?”

I chuckle at the sharp right in conversation. “No, I didn’t.”

She gives me the rundown on what everyone in her inner circle is doing—Uncle Atlas is away on business in the Anti-arctic, Auntie Aspen has a tummy ache because of the baby, and Mommy had to go with Uncle Atlas so Uncle Royal is staying at her house—and then flops down in one of the chairs.

“Uncle Royal, I’m hungry,” she says.

“Then it’s time for us to go,” he responds.

I reach out to gently stroke one of her soft, dark curls, thinking how beautiful she is. How smart and sweet and funny. Her mother and uncles must love her very much.

“Would you like me to sign something for you?” I ask her. “I don’t have any pictures or anything with me.”

“Uncle Royal, do we have the programmer?”

“The program,” he corrects absently. “But no. We left it in Uncle Atlas’s suite.”

“Oh, I’ve got mine.” I quickly get it out of my bag, where I’d stuffed it, and dig out a Sharpie. It’s become habit to carry one with me everywhere so I sign the front of the program with lots of hearts and swirlies, and hand it to her.

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