Page 34 of The Rules We Broke
“I want a new baby brother or sister,” she declared proudly.
“Oh,” I said, startled. “Is your mommy pregnant?”
“No,” she pouted. “But Ireallywant her to be. If not, I want a puppy!”
Brady and I both laughed. I silently hoped her parents had been briefed.
“And I want the new Aunt Calliope and Jane dolls,” she added with a dramatic hand flourish.
That, at least, was something I could help with. I made a mental note to call my office Monday morning.
As we stood in line, I couldn’t help but sneak a few glances at Brady. Back in high school, he was handsome. Now? He was beautiful.
Tall, athletic, rugged in all the right ways—his jeans unfairly flattering, and those ridiculous lashes framing eyes that hadn’t changed at all.
A few times, I caught him peeking at me.
I hated that I wondered if he still found me to be as beautiful as he once thought I was. It was silly of me to care.
I was grateful when the woman behind us tapped my shoulder. “Are you Elle Eaton?” she asked.
I smiled, a little shy, but still proud. “Yes.”
“She likes to be calledMiss Ellie,” Caroline chimed in helpfully.
She flashed her one missing tooth grin, and I melted. How could I correct her?
“Miss Caroline is right,” I said with a wink. At least for now. I wasn’t sure I could afford to stay Miss Ellie for much longer.
The two little girls next to the woman gasped with excitement. “Will you sign our books, Miss Ellie?” one asked, eyes wide.
“Of course,” I said warmly.
From their boutique bookbag, they pulled out every title I’d written—neatly stacked, freshly purchased.
Seeing those stories in their hands, out in the wild? It was an honor. Always.
The two little girls burst into questions.
“Do you go to all the places Calliope and Aunt Jane go?”
“When’s your next book coming out?”
“Do you love to write?”
Caroline couldn’t wait for her turn to speak. “Well,Igot to slide in my socks with her—just like Calliope,” she boasted proudly.
“Really?” the girls gasped in unison.
Brady nudged me, pride etched across his grin.
I nudged him back, smiling. It wasn’t often I got approached in public like this, and somehow, being with Brady made it feel even more special. Maybe because he was the first person I ever shared my stories with. And he always believed in me.
Well . . . until that Christmas.
Finally, Caroline made it to the front of the line. She bounded up to Santa as if she’d rehearsed it in front of her mirror.
Brady and I stood nearby, watching.
