Page 58 of Isabella and the Slipper

“I’m starving.”

They ordered, and Chase picked a seat near the window to the play area. He pulled Isabella’s chair out for her. Chase watched the children playing as he ate. A little dark-haired boy played on the slide. He would climb up the inside of the chute and then squeal with delight coming down. He smiled as the boy proceeded to repeat the process.

“He’s cute,” Isabella said, craning her neck to see.

“He reminds me of my sister, just a couple of years ago. I can’t believe she’s in kindergarten now.”

“You’re close? Even though she’s so young?”

“It’s funny, but yeah. We’re close. She’s always been drawn to me. And I just love the snot out of her.”

“I never would have pegged you as a kid lover.” She smiled at him. “It’s kind of endearing.”

“Kind of? I thought it was totally hot.” He gave her his best camera smile.

She laughed. “I don’t think you need any help in that department,” she said under her breath.

He took a swig of his drink to hide his chuckle.

Isabella picked up a fry and bit the end off. She watched the little boy climb around the play area. “So, you want kids when you grow up?”

“Yeah.”

“How many kids do you want to have?”

No one had ever asked him that before, and he had to think about it. “Honestly? I’ve always pictured myself having a big family.”

“More than three?”

He grinned again, wiggling his eyebrows. “Definitely.”

She whacked him on the arm. “I’m asking you a serious question, and you’re goofing around.”

“No,” he said, chuckling. “Okay, maybe a little.” He sobered. “But seriously, I want four or five kids running around, making the house a mess. When I was a kid I always wanted younger brothers and sisters. By the time Cora came along, I was almost a teenager. But she was so cute, I couldn’t help but love on her.”

“Is there a reason she’s so much younger than you?”

“My parents wanted more kids. It just didn’t happen. They went to all kinds of doctors. No one could find anything wrong. Finally, after years, they had my sister.” He picked up a fry. “I don’t know what I would have done if she hadn’t made it through her illness.”

“That’s so scary,” Isabella said, nodding.

One more thing to prove she was Five.

He had only told Five about the seriousness of his sister’s illness. He changed the subject. “Do you like to cook?”

Isabella made a face. “Not really.”

“Nothing? Not even baking?”

“If I tell you something, will you swear you’ll never breathe a word of it to anyone?” She picked up her soda and took a drink.

Intrigued, he raised an eyebrow. “Sure.”

“Pinky swear?” She held out her little finger.

He chuckled and wrapped his pinky around hers. Sparks tingled across his skin. “Yes. Pinky swear.”

“After my father died, my stepmother tried to make me the household cook. I hated it. But I figured out that if I messed up a meal, Elenore would order a pizza. With a little Googling, I found I could ruin a perfectly good meal with just a few well-placed spices. Cumin was especially good on anything sweet, like cinnamon toast or chocolate pie. After quite a few cooking lessons without much improvement, my stepmother decided it was better for everyone to fend for themselves than to make her daughters suffer through my ‘unfortunate lack of ability.’ Her words, not mine.”

---