Page 94 of The Good Girl Effect
The little girl giggles as she takes her aunt’s hand. Elizabeth glances toward the line and then back at us. This one is a bit longer. A sign above the queue displays that it could take up to forty-five minutes.
“Why don’t you two take a walk or something? I’ll text you when we’re done,” Elizabeth suggests.
I glance up at Jack and shrug. “I would like to do some shopping.”
“Okay,” he relents before looking his sister in the eye. “Don’t take your eyes off her for a second.”
She rolls them again, an expression she uses often. “We’ll be fine. Go,” she says as she shoves Jack away.
“Wait, Papa,” Bea calls, running back toward him. “Hold my balloon, please.”
He stiffens, looking at the large mouse-shaped pink balloon.
“I’ll hold it,” I say, saving him.
As I reach for it, Bea adds, “Tie it around her wrist, Papa. So she doesn’t lose it.”
I scoff with offense as Jack chokes out a laugh. “Yes, sweetie,” he replies, taking the ribbon from her tiny clenched fist. She dashes off to join Elizabeth, and Jack takes my hand while stifling a grin. “I have experience,” he adds so quietly only I can hear it. Slowly, he wraps the ribbon around my wrist in a double loop before glancing up at me with a handsome, devilish look in his eye.
“Very funny,” I say, pressing my lips together. Why must he make it so hard to keep myself from falling for him?
I keep close to his side as we make our way through the park. His hand rests protectively at the small of my back. We mostly stay silent, and it’s clear neither of us know how to navigate ourrelationship in broad daylight. It’s different when we have Bea as the center of our attention. But when we’re alone, we can’t be the sameuswe are at night.
I glance awkwardly up at him, and he briefly meets my gaze. More than anything, I’d like to link my hand with his and walk like we’re a real couple. Like I truly mean something to him.
When we come across a large gift store, I slip inside and start browsing. He stays close behind me when a small pink box catches my eye. It’s a jewelry box with a red rose on the top, and when I open it, the music starts playing, and a small ballerina twirls slowly.
I let out a small gasp as I stare at it. “I had one of these when I was a little girl,” I say with tears in my eyes. “My papa gave it to me for my birthday, and every year after that, he would put a gift in it for me.”
Jack steps up so close behind me that his chest is pressed against my back. With a soft exhale, I close my eyes and lean into him.
“That’s beautiful,” he whispers. “We should get it for her.”
Blinking the moisture away, I turn my head to stare up at him. “We?”
“I mean…you,” he says, correcting himself. “You should get that for her.” But even as he says it, his hand slides over mine so we’re holding the jewelry box together.
As I stare into his eyes, I fight the urge to kiss him here. It would only take one small movement. I could lift onto my tiptoes and press my lips to his. It would mean nothing, just like all our kisses.
At least to him, it would mean nothing.
To me, it would mean everything. It would mean that I’ve found someone who doesn’t think I’m too much or too stubborn or too nosy. Someone who chooses me. Someone who thinks I’mperfectjust the way I am.
Instead, I turn away and take the box to the checkout counter. After paying, I walk with Jack out of the store. Without a destination in mind, we just meander through the park in silence.
“I can’t believe she’s six,” he says suddenly, and I glance up to gauge his expression. He seems contemplative, watching a family walk past us. “It goes by so fast.”
“She’s amazing, Jack. You should be proud,” I say.
“I am.” His response is immediate, and I can hear the pride in his tone. There is no doubt in my mind that he loves Bea more than anything. It was questionable when I first arrived and he would barely even look at her, but as time has gone by and I see that he shows as much love as he can, I realize just how much pain he was in. But there is no question of his adoration for his daughter.
He laughs. “I was nothing like her when I was a kid. I gave my mom hell, but Bea is so smart and resilient.”
“And funny,” I reply with a smile.
“She gets that from her mother,” he replies, and I don’t let the mention of Emmaline sour the mood. Instead, we hold our smiles, even through the sadness.
“And her tantrums from you?” I ask, turning to make eye contact with him. There’s no doubt that as adorable as Bea is, when she doesn’t want something, she makes sure everyone knows it. It’s incredibly frustrating as the person trying to discipline and nurture her. But as someone who loves her, I hope she stays strong-willed forever.
