Page 59 of Stolen Fate

But after our little picnic, Jace received an important phone call from work that he couldn’t miss and asked if I would mind staying with Elliot a little longer, even though I was supposed to be off the clock.

I had agreed, because as much as I didn’t want to be near Jace right now, I had a hard time leaving them both to go to my room.

I didn’t want to spend my evening alone.

While Jace did some work in his office, I gave Elliot a bath, which seemed to have consisted of me getting splashed more than him getting clean, and Elliot’s giggles filled the small room. I ended up having to change out of my wet clothes, and I lied to myself as I looked in the mirror and applied some light lipstick that I wasn’t prettying myself up for Jace.

I knew I was.

I didn’t want to look like a slob for him, so I brushed my hair and applied a little blush to give myself some color. I couldn’t bring myself to do anything more than that, or it would be too obvious, but even then, there was a look in his eyes when I brought Elliot downstairs with me afterward that told me he knew and he was pleased with the effort I had put in.

I looked down, happy I added some color to my cheeks so my blush would seem less obvious.

Jace ordered Thai takeout for three, and that was how I ended up eating my dinner with them. Elliot was happy I was there, so it made me feel better about staying, but I could still feel Jace’s eyes on me the whole meal, leaving a trail of inferno across my skin that I didn’t want to examine too closely.

Elliot was beat by the time I had him brush his teeth. Jace stood there and watched us, his silent imposing presence a stark reminder of how I almost lost it back at the picnic.

I knew he wasn’t there because he didn’t trust me—Jace never said it, but I knew he trusted me with Elliot’s care, at least in some capacity.

“Tired, Evelyn,” Elliot said, holding out his arms to me. He was already in his Spider-Man pajamas, and though we were right on time for his bedtime, I knew his afternoon at the pool house had tired him out.

“I know, sweetheart. You’re ready for bed, huh?” I cradled him in my arms, trying hard not to get emotional.

“Will you and Daddy read me a bedtime story?” he asked.

I looked over at Jace, whose eyes had gone soft. He ruffled Elliot’s hair. “Of course, buddy.”

I followed Jace to Elliot’s room and placed him under the covers Jace had pulled up. We tucked Elliot into bed together, and I couldn’t explain why the action made me happy and sad at the same time. I usually didn’t get to tuck Elliot into bed because, despite Jace’s busy schedule, he was good at planning his schedule around coming home for Elliot.

Jace grabbed a thin book from Elliot’s bookshelf. I settled myself down on the side of Elliot’s bed, tucking him in further.

He let out a loud yawn, showing off his small white teeth, and I smiled, moving a strand of his dark hair from his forehead. Jace sat down behind me, close enough that I could feel his heat, but not close enough that we were touching. I looked back at him and met his eyes, my breath catching a little.

I couldn’t look away.

There was just something about his expression that held me immobile, and it was making it harder and harder for me to question why I was fighting it so hard.

“Story time!” Elliot said. I snapped out of my thoughts and turned back to Elliot.

Jace held out a thin, white hardcover book for me.

“Why don’t we alternate reading pages?” he suggested.

I nodded and opened it to the title page. Then I froze. I frowned and looked back at Jace.

“Is there a problem?” he asked.

I shook my head. No, there shouldn’t be a problem, but my heart was beating too fast inside my chest, and my eyes were getting misty. I didn’t want him to examine my emotions too closely. My past wasn’t something I wanted to talk about, not even with Jace.

Especially not with Jace.

“This is Elliot’s favorite book. Ironic, really, since he couldn’t remember his own mom. Or perhaps it’s because of it,” Jace said, and though he said it unemotionally, I could see the heartbreak in his eyes.

I blinked a few times and looked away, the burning in my eyes was back and I didn’t know how I would be able to get through the book without bawling—for more reasons than one.

But I’d do it for Elliot.

I cleared my throat and hoped my voice didn’t sound strained when I read the title out loud to Elliot. “Are You My Mother? by P.D. Eastman.”

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