Page 72 of Mended Hearts

“Is Carly coming?” she asked, blinking up at Ollie—and oof, my heart didn’t stand a chance.

“I’m not sure, sport, but I’ll video it either way.”

Tillie nodded, but I swear I felt her little belly sink from where I stood.

“You look so beautiful, sweet pea!” I crooned. Alice nodded enthusiastically beside me.

“Do you feel good about your routine?”

Smile back in place, she bobbed her head. “Yep! I had them both memorized weeks ago. I even helped Lizzy at rehearsal last week.”

“Thatta’ girl!” Greyson held out his hand for a high five, and she was quick to jump for it, her enthusiasm contagious.

A garbled announcement came over the speakers—sounded like Charlie Brown’s teacher on a loudspeaker—and I didn’t catch a word of it. Meanwhile, the lobby began to clear, families filtering into the auditorium or walking their dancers toward what I assumed were the staging rooms.

“You look breathtaking, Trouble.”

Ollie’s voice was low, too close to my ear, and just like that, my skin erupted in goosebumps.

Beaming, I gave a ridiculous little curtsey. “Thanks, handsome. You’re looking quite dapper.”

Of course, he was. Gorgeous, as always. Navy suit, crisp white shirt, and a kitschy silver snowflake tie that made me grin. Only Ollie would match his daughter for a ballet recital. I had an amazing dad, but not even Milo rocked anything ‘feminine’ like that.

“I like your snowflakes.”

“Thanks, me too. Tillie picked it—ouch.” His sentence broke off as a tiny fist nailed his stomach.

“Daddy! That’sLeighton’snickname.”

He rubbed his abs dramatically. “It’s catchy.”

“Stop,” she groaned, rolling her eyes like she was personally burdened by all of us.

“My bad,” he said, smirking. “We better get you backstage,Matilda.”

“Ugh. You’re the worst sometimes.”

“Oh, I know,” he said, his eyes landing on me in a way that made my blood heat. He stoked the flames when his hand landed on my bare shoulder blades. This dress did me so many favors, it was mind boggling.

It was a goddamn masterpiece. Christmas red, lacy, classy as hell—with a delicate button at my nape and a sexy open back that dipped just to mid-spine. It fit like it had been cut for me.

I loved it. Loved it more, now that I knew what it felt like to have Ollie’s hands on me while I wore it.

I was still internally spiraling when a square of sunlight flashed across the far wall as someone threw open one of the glass doors with dramatic flair.

I turned, spotting a woman in a shimmering silver bodycon dress—the expensive kind that somehow screamed both taste and money. Great body. Red Birkin bag. Manicured coffin nails. Gorgeous.

And then I saw the dyed black hair with a halo of white framing her face.

Ollie went stiff beside me, his hand sliding instinctively into Mattie’s.

Fuck me.Of course she was stunning.

“Wow, the whole family is here,” she cooed, tossing her hair over her shoulder like she was on stage, wearing chintzy bug-eyed glasses that absolutely did not belong indoors. “How wonderful to see everyone,” she purred, sliding the glasses down with a dramatic flick and reaching into her bag for the case.

“It’s giving Gloria Swanson,” I muttered under my breath, only for Ollie to hear.

His lips twitched, eyes glinting sideways. “Sunset Boulevard?”

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