Page 11 of Bestie's Bossy Billionaire Brother
I wave her off. “Don’t even worry about it.”
As Erica heads out the door, I turn to Alice. “What do you want to do?”
“Can we play dress-up?” she asks, her eyes wide with excitement.
“Of course,” I reply with a grin. “But do you want to dress up as a princess, or as something else?”
Alice’s eyes sparkle as she thinks about it. “I want to be a mermaid.”
I laugh. “A mermaid it is. Let’s go find some costumes.”
We head to Alice’s room, which is filled with countless toys and costumes. She rifles through her toy box before pulling out a green-and-blue mermaid costume. I help her put it on, and she spins around in front of the mirror, her hair flying, pretending to be a mermaid swimming in the ocean.
I decide to play along, and together we pretend we’re exploring an underwater cave, searching for treasure. Alice leads the way, her imagination running wild, and I follow her, making my way through the imaginary cave.
Suddenly, I hear Alice shriek. “Shh,” I whisper. “What is it?”
“Something moved in the closet,” she whispers back, pointing to the cracked door.
I reach for the closet doorknob and open it slowly. Inside, I find a pair of gleaming eyes staring back at me. At first, I can’t make out what it is, but then I realize it’s just Alice’s stuffed octopus toy. I pull it out of the closet and hold it up to her, relieved.
Alice giggles and takes the octopus from me. “Silly me, I thought it was a monster,” she says, hugging the toy tightly.
“Well, even mermaids have to be on the lookout for monsters sometimes.”
I take another look in the closet to find a box that’s been knocked over onto the ground. I pick it up and examine it, realizing it’s filled with Emily’s old photographs and handwritten letters.
“What’s this?” I ask, pulling out a handful of polaroids.
“Some old pictures of Mommy and Daddy,” Alice informs me.
Alice’s fear turns into curiosity, and she snuggles in close as I flip through the pictures. The photos date back to Emily’s high school days, and a few show her with Oliver, their arms around each other.
“Whoa, your mom played guitar?” I point to a picture of Emily holding a guitar.
Alice nods. “Mom used to be in a band. She sang, too.”
I hand her the picture and watch as she studies it intently.
“Maybe one day you’ll play guitar like your mom did,” I suggest.
Alice sighs and leans into my chest. “I wish Mommy was here with us.”
“I know,” I whisper, clasping her. “But she’ll always be with you.”
We sit there for a while, just flipping through the old photographs, Alice relaying everything Oliver has told her about him and her mother until we move on to the next game.
As we continue our journey through the photos, I find myself genuinely laughing at her youthful commentary and quirky questions. In this simple act of sharing and storytelling, something shifts inside me. The heavy burden that’s been suffocating me seems lighter, and in the midst of it all, I realize I’m actually enjoying myself.
Alice’s laughter fills the room, and I can’t help but wonder what other unexpected moments of lightness and joy might be waiting for me on the other side of all this pain.
Chapter 4
Oliver
I’matabarin downtown Seattle called The Nest, a rooftop bar with expansive views of the city.
I pass by a series of round tables filled with people exchanging lively conversations while drinking and eating.
