Page 11 of The Baby-whisperer and the Brute
The prince began to stroll toward his wife, and I saw my chance to take my leave. “I’m going to head over to the bounce house. Some of the bigger kids have gotten in, and I want to make sure they’re not overwhelming the little ones.”
“Oh, good idea. Thank you so much, Angelina. You are a superstar.”
Walking as quickly as I could manage without running, I moved toward the bright inflatable and out of Sullivan Reece’s trajectory.
When I reached the bounce house, I turned to see he was now talking with the Wessexes. His body language was apologetic, and he used his hands a lot as he spoke.
I looked away. But after I warned a pair of eight-year-old boys about watching out for the younger children while bouncing, my attention strayed back to Sullivan.
He stood near his daughters now, bending low to speak to them. The girls didn’t appear to be listening at first. Then they began arguing with him.
As he spoke, he pointed behind him in the direction of his own estate. Apparently, he was trying to convince them to return home and get dressed.
Instead of complying, the taller girl took off running, followed closely by the little one. Sullivan straightened and pushed both his hands through his hair, his lean cheeks puffing outward as he blew out a long breath.
The poor man looked frazzled. And exhausted.
Maybe the girls had been down for a nap because they hadn’t been sleeping well at night. I wondered about their mother. Where was she today? Why was she not at the party as well? Perhaps she was out of town or ill.
A spark of sympathy landed on my heart.
Small children thrived on routine. And during my two years working at the preschool, I’d seen lots of fathers completely undone by the particular challenges of wrangling small children.
One had even referred to himself as the “backup quarterback” when his children had arrived for the school day in their pajamas with unbrushed hair and teeth.
“I’m just trying not to lose the game until the lead quarterback gets off the DL list,” he’d said with a self-deprecating smile.
Of course, there were fathers who were the primary caregivers in their households. I suspected Sullivan Reece was not one of them.
After veering precariously close to a small table where brightly wrapped graduation gifts for the children had been stacked in a pyramid, the two little Reece girls changed direction and headed for the bounce house. They were surprisingly fast.
Their father changed direction as well, his long, powerful stride carrying him directly toward me with alarming speed.
The girls reached the inflatable bouncer and scrambled inside. One of them squealed, “Let’s hide from Daddy in here. He’s too big to fit.”
With Sullivan only steps away now, I also had the impulse to hide.
Stepping to the opposite side of the bounce house, I watched the children inside through its mesh window. I could also make out Sullivan’s large form as he stood and looked in from the other side.
He shifted back and forth with impatience, appearing barely contained and a little bit dangerous.
Though I knew he was wealthy, he looked slightly rough around the edges, like maybe he’d started life somewhere very different from an opulent Eastport Bay mansion. And while he was dressed nicely, I had the impression he’d be more comfortable in a pair of worn jeans or maybe gym shorts and a t-shirt
Inside the bounce house, Sullivan’s daughters ignored his watchful presence, springing around like popcorn kernels, their wild hair flying with each jump.
He called out to them. “We’ll go home, change real quick, and come back. But only if you get out of there right now and come with me.”
In spite of his deep voice and intimidating size, I was surprised to hear no sternness in the man’s tone. Rather, he sounded like he was begging these infinitely smaller humans to cooperate.
Suddenly I understood what was going on.
Hewas the one who was intimidated. And his daughters knew it.
Like any children, who would gladly accept any and all power you would give them, the adorable little girls were playing him.
Sullivan Reece might look like a bruiser, but inside he was a marshmallow, at least when it came to these two girls.
The spark of sympathy grew into something larger, something warmer. The man needed help. And if I’d learned anything during my time as a preschool teaching assistant, it was how to get unruly children to cooperate.
