Zach doesn’t question the request. He just starts coloring, so I follow his lead.
“You're doing it wrong.” She points at my section of the tower. “That's supposed to be pink, not purple.”
Zach sniggers under his breath.
“Oh, right. I’m sorry.” I swap crayons, and she nods approvingly.
“It's okay. Everyone makes mistakes,” she says gently. “Mommy says mistakes are how we learn.”
“Well, your mommy's very smart.”
“The smartest.” Ella grins before going back to her coloring.
We color for a few minutes while Ella tells us all the facts about her made-up castle and its imaginary princess inhabitants while I try to stay inside the lines.
“I think I should cancel.” I hear Tiff’s voice before she appears at the bottom of the steps.
That’s when I forget how to breathe.
Fuuuuck. What the actual fuck have I done?
She’s wearing a red dress that falls just above her knees as she pushes her long hair to the side so she can put her earrings on.
“I’m not sure I really feel like going out after everything that happened.”
Her gaze catches mine, and for the longest time, we just…stare. Suddenly, I feel like we’re back in the library, and the world has fallen away.
I need to say something. Anything, but my brain has apparently short-circuited because all I can manage is to sit there like an idiot, cataloguing every detail. The way the red brings out the green in her eyes. The subtle curves of her dress. The way she’s biting her bottom lip.
I want her so badly it’s becoming a major problem.
“Mommy!” Ella squeals, abandoning me and Zach in favor of Tiff. “You look like a princess!”
My hand clenches around the crayon so hard, I feel it snap under my touch.
She’s not wearing that for you, idiot.
I toss the remnants onto the pile of crayons close by and sigh. Zach’s giving me a shit-eating grin, because I bet he knows what I’m thinking right now.
“Thank you, baby.” Tiff smooths down the dress self-consciously.
Zach leans in. “You good, man? ‘Cause that’s the face of a guy realizing he might’ve fumbled the whole damn game,” he mutters to me. “You’re going, Tiff,” he says louder. “You look too good for Reese to play it cool.”
Reese. Right. Reese. She’s wearing it for Reese.
The guy she’s going on a date with. Never with you.
I shake my head, willing myself to get out of my own thoughts.
She’s beautiful. I already knew that, and she’s still not mine.
Standing, I say, “You look…” I clear my throat. “You look really nice.”
Nice. What a pathetically inadequate word to describe her.
Zach snorts quietly beside me. “Nice,”he says. “Real smooth, Shakespeare,” he murmurs. “That’ll keep her thinking about you all night.”
He places his unbroken crayon down and heads over to them, offering Tiff a hug, which she gladly accepts.