Don't Speak (A Modern Fairytale, #5)(86)

Looking out the window at the cold expanse of snow covering the lawn, she couldn’t help but remember Erik. They’d spent so many nights curled up in those Adirondack chairs together, talking, touching, kissing, sharing their dreams and their hopes and their love.

The ghost of Erik was everywhere she turned at the Pamlico House, where they’d loved each other so desperately. She’d grown so much that summer, changed so much, learned so much. She’d loved so deeply, it hurt. And even though she considered herself over Erik now, being here made it ache again, which she resented.

Not to mention, it had been many years since she’d separated her Erik from the Governor’s Son, but here? In this place where she and Erik had been so happy? It was hard to convince herself that the man she’d loved was dead and gone. Somewhere in the world—at an office desk in Raleigh, most likely—Erik Rexford was very much alive.

And her daughter, who had her father’s beautiful eyes, was a constant reminder that someday she’d need to tell Ava Grace who he was and how to find him. It scared her breathless to even turn her mind to it.

Her cell phone buzzed on the table, and she flipped it over to find several e-mails delivering at the same time. There was no cell reception, and the Wi-Fi at the inn was coming in fits and spurts. She scrolled through message after message from Madame Scalzo and her assistant and other designers in the New York office. They didn’t love the designs she sent last night, which meant a day or two of revising the sketches.

She sighed. “Ava, I have to do some work today. Do you think you could watch a movie on your iPad when we get back up to the room?”

Ava Grace squished up her face and shrugged. “I did that already. It’s borin’, Mama.”

Not only had Ava Grace watched movies and TV shows in the car all the way from Boone to Buxton, but she’d been watching them for two days in their hotel room. She was probably going stir-crazy by now, but that didn’t change the fact that Laire needed to do several hours of work and the iPad was the perfect babysitter, unless . . .

Kelsey popped back into the dining room with a heaping platter of pancakes in one hand and a coffee carafe in the other.

“Who wants more pancakes?” she asked.

“Me! Me! Me!” cried Ava Grace.

“Kelsey,” asked Laire, “do you do any babysitting?”

Kelsey placed three large pancakes on Ava Grace’s plate, then turned to Laire. “Sure. Lots. You need a sitter?”

“Desperately. How about today?”

“Definitely. I can make time. When were you thinkin’? Tonight?”

Laire cringed. “Um, now?”

“Now now? Like, right now?”

Laire held up her phone. “I just got a dozen messages that’re going to keep me busy until late afternoon. I pay well.”

“But I still have an hour of breakfast left, and then—”

“Ava wouldn’t mind sitting here and eating pancakes, would you, Ava?”

Ava Grace shoved another mouthful between her lips and shook her head.

“And I, well, it’s almost seven thirty. Even if you gave me until one. One o’clock,” she said, trying to bargain. “Five and a half hours. I could get a ton done.”

Kelsey looked at Ava Grace, who grinned up at her. “Well, I guess I could watch her until one. But she’ll have to stay here in the dinin’ room until nine, and if she’s good, she can help me make cookies, and then we’ll go outside and make a snowman, and then—”

Laire’s phone buzzed again, and she jumped up before Kelsey could reconsider. “That’s perfect! Thank you so much!”

Kelsey winked at Ava Grace before refreshing Laire’s coffee and heading back into the kitchen.

Laire picked up her cup and turned to Ava Grace. “Promise you’ll be good for Kelsey? Mind her? And use your manners?”

“Yes, Mama. Kelsey’s my new best friend . . . after you and Mr. Mopples.”

Laire chuckled as she stood up, leaning down to press a kiss to her daughter’s head. “And you’re my beautiful girl.”

“Your beautiful princess, Mama,” said Ava Grace, a drop of maple syrup making a slow descent down her chin.

“Wait a minute.” Laire paused, grinning down at her as she wiped the syrup with a napkin. “Are you a princess now?”

“Yes,” said Ava Grace nodding, her eyes dead serious. “Daughters of princes are always princesses, Mama.”

“Oh.” Laire’s heart stuttered for a moment, but she kept her smile pasted on her face. You’re going to have to tell her the truth whether you like it or not. Someday she’ll need to know. “Yes. Of course, baby. You’re my princess. Always.”

Damn you, Erik Rexford.

As unexpected tears burned her eyes, she turned quickly away and hurried back up the stairs to their room.

***

As Erik headed down the stairs with his keys in his hand, the smell of pancakes reminded him that breakfast was served from seven to nine, and lucky for him, it was just after seven thirty. As he reached the reception area, Mr. Leatham, who stood at the reception desk, cleared his throat meaningfully.

Erik stopped on his way to the dining room, looking at the innkeeper with eyebrows raised.

“You just missed her,” he said, his expression dour. “The li’l’un’s mama.”