Page 67 of His Secretly Pregnant Cinderella

“I’ve never seen opulence as a gift,” he said. “It was simply a fact of my existence. And I saw the hard things in the world early. And opulence did not save me from them.”

“I understand that,” she said. “I really do. But believe me when I tell you, the lack of it was something I always felt. In part because my mother was so keenly aware of it.”

“I have been surrounded my entire life by opulence and remarkable beauty. And so private islands and stunning vistas, ornately themed rooms, and beautiful homes... They do not signify. But you... The moment that I saw you, Morgan, I felt like I was seeing something truly original. Truly new, and it was better than any gilded statue could ever be. And having you... What is forbidden to me? I’m a man with money and power. Nothing is forbidden to me. But you were. That is a novelty that far outstrips any well-appointed kitchen.”

“Are you saying I’m your one indulgence?”

“You have been that, yes. And I... I have reveled in you, that much is certain.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been anyone’s indulgence,” she said, her eyes looking glassy, and he did not know why such a... Such a basic compliment, borderline crude would produce that result.

“I’m sure many men would’ve liked you to be.”

“But I didn’t want to be theirs. I suppose. And it doesn’t mean anything if you don’t also want it. When I met you...”

“Why don’t we pretend that you only just did?” Because he liked fantasy. Even if it was ridiculous.

“Okay. Then let’s pretend I don’t know anything about you. What was your favorite ice cream when you were a child?”

He laughed. He couldn’t help himself. He was caught entirely off guard by the mischievous gleam in her eyes, by the little smile on her face, and by the mention of ice cream, of all things.

“I don’t know,” he said.

“That’s ridiculous. Of course you know. Everyone had a favorite ice cream. What was it you ordered or asked for at the grocery store or...do billionaire children go to the grocery store?”

“No,” he said, memories beginning to crowd his mind.

He realized he didn’t know because he didn’t allow himself to think about his childhood. Because in the before, there was Athena, and thinking of her was like a dagger in his soul. And in the after, he had no longer been a child. Not really.

But he could remember, he could remember his grandfather taking himself and Athena and little Alex to get an ice cream cone at a shop on the beach. The same beach that they had been taken from later. But he didn’t focus on what had come after. And he didn’t think about what had come before. He thought only of that moment. And the joy that he had felt in it. And he remembered the ice cream.

“Chocolate. With caramel. That’s what I would get at this little place on the beach. And my grandfather would let us each get a cone. And I cannot think of ice cream without also thinking of the beach. Of sand, and of the sun melting it so quickly that we had to eat impossibly fast. Yes. That’s what I think of.” He could see the ice cream in his mind, rolling down the cone, down his hand, onto the gritty sand below.

“My mother would get me some sometimes when we went to the grocery store,” she said. “It was only a quarter, and I never got a cone, because if you got a cup you got much more. They would overfill it. Praline pecan. That was my favorite. Also caramel, but with vanilla ice cream. And those candy nuts. That is a memory from my childhood where I felt truly happy.”

“And me as well.”

“Very different memories, but that makes us seem more the same than different, doesn’t it?”

He nodded slowly. “Yes. It does.”

“Favorite cartoon.”

“Cartoons?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t... I do not think I watched cartoons.”

“I am certain that you did,” she said. “I personally love this entire block of cartoons on the public access channel. And actually, I suppose the one that I loved wasn’t actually a cartoon. It was about a dog. And it was light action. He dressed up in costumes for every book that he went into. I loved that. I wanted my imagination to be that real. I think that’s what captured me about the different things that I loved.”

“I suppose my imagination did not have to be so strong,” he said.

Though as he said that he had the impression of being in a playroom, early in the morning, snuggled up in blankets, with Athena next to him. “There was a cartoon about ponies. And they had magic powers. My sister liked to watch that. And I would sit with her. I did not enjoy it, of course.”

“Of course not,” Morgan said.

“I preferred cartoons that had some sword fighting.”

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