Page 91 of Glitter Rose
“Closest thing to family he’s got.” His eyes drop to the diamond on her finger. “Until now, apparently.”
I brace for the inevitable shit-storm of questions and jokes.
“About time, Sullivan,” is all he says.
Liv studies Paris. “You killed Mike?”
Paris stiffens in the chair. “I-uh—Yes.”
“Thank you.” Liv extends her hand. “Had that fucker on my list from the last time we ran into him.”
The simple gesture carries more weight than a thousand words from anyone else. Liv doesn’t touch people. Doesn’t thank them. Doesn’t acknowledge them if she can help it.
“You’re welcome.” Paris takes her hand.
Liv gives Paris’s hand a final squeeze before drifting back to her table, dragging Walsh with her. His eyes flick between us, shooting me that look that says we’ll talk later. Great. Something to look forward to.
“Pancakes.” I wheel Paris toward the serving line. “Doctor’s orders.”
I’m not sure if Vivian will kill me, but I have to balance the score.
The kitchen staff, really just Dante today, looksup as we approach. His face splits into that massive grin that makes him look like an overgrown kid instead of a man who can level a building.
“Holy shit, she lives!” He wipes his hands on his apron, leaning over the counter to get a better look at Paris. “Knox hasn’t shut up about you for days.”
Her eyes dart to mine. “Is that so?”
“I talked about you a normal, reasonable amount.” If I’d known this would happen, I would have kept her hidden longer.
Dante laughs. “Man’s been like a lovesick puppy. ‘When she wakes up, she likes her eggs scrambled.’ ‘Make sure we have strawberries when she wakes up.’ ‘Don’t you fucking touch that glitter, it’s for Paris when she?—‘”
“Alright, enough.” I rap my knuckles on the metal counter. “She wants pancakes. You got pancakes or not?”
“For the miracle girl? I’ll make ‘em from scratch.” Dante grabs a bowl, already cracking eggs. “You want chocolate chips? Blueberries? We got both. Fresh from the greenhouse.”
She tilts her head. “Chocolate chips. Please.”
Dante winks. “Coming right up, princess.”
“That’s my line.” I glare at him.
While Dante whips up batter, Paris’s eyes roam the mess hall, taking in every detail like she’s cataloging it for later. Her fingers tap against the armrest, nervous energy leaking out despite her exhaustion.
“You okay?” I lean down, keeping my voice low.
“Yeah.” She nods, then stops. “No. I don’t know. It’s all so… normal. People eating breakfast. Laughing. Like the world didn’t end.”
“Just like in your penthouse.”
She blinks rapidly. “Yeah. I… I thought I’d never have something like this.”
Fuck me.
My heart cracks wide open.
And just like that, I’m gone.
Completely fucking gone for my princess.
