“And who is this handsome young man?”
“How’s Dad?” Aria asked, hurrying out of the room and into another. “Where’s Dad?” She shouted, rushing back to them, pale of all color. “Did he…?”
Her mother gave her a concerned look. “Your father went off to the batting cages.”
“The batting cages?” Aria shouted, looking faint.
“Aria,” her mother said with a concerned look, “what’s the matter with—”
“What about the accident? Where’s Conn?”
Now her mother gave Gray the same worried look. “What is she talking about? What accident? Has there been an accident?” the older woman leaned her hand against the wall. “Aria, what accident? Is it Conn? He was just—”
“There hasn’t been an accident,” Gray reassured her. “Aria,” he said, turning to her next and lowering his voice. “I think I brought us back a few years early.”
She stopped moving. He wasn’t sure she was breathing. Then, “A few years early?”
He smiled. “Yes.”
“You mean the accident—”
“Hasn’t happened yet,” he supplied.
Tears immediately filled Aria’s eyes, and she threw her hands to her mouth. “Thank you, Gray. I don’t know how to thank you.”
“I’ll figure something out.”
They exchanged a smile and then Aria turned to her mother. “Mom, I know this is going to sound crazy, but what’s the date?”
Her mother scowled at her, and it reminded Gray of Aria when she was angry.
“You’re right, it does sound crazy. Do you have a fever?” She hurried closer and pressed her palm to Aria’s forehead. “You’re acting very strange. It’s April 7th.”
“And the year?” Aria pressed.
Her mother slapped her palms against her thighs. “2022.”
“2022?!” Aria began to cry. When her mother and Gray went to her, she reassured them that they were happy tears. “The happiest of my life.” She looked at Gray and smiled. “Thank you.”
“Young man, since my daughter hasn’t introduced us yet, I’m Rose Darling. You are?”
“Grayson Barrington, my lady.” He bowed and smiled at her on the way back up.
“Oh, my,” Mrs. Darling said, bringing her hand to her chest.
“He’s the Marquess of Dartmouth…in England,” Aria announced.
“Oh, my.” Her mother repeated and backed up a step to size him up from head to toe. “How do you know my Aria?”
“I’m a dancer.”
“Romeo?”
Aria took her mother’s hands and nodded. “Better than Romeo.”
“Better?” Gray and her mother asked together.
“So much better,” she answered them both with a slight blush that tempted Gray to go to her and take her in his arms. He wondered if a lifetime would be long enough to spend with her.