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“Wow. You do know a lot about it,” I add, and he grins proudly.
“And then after the babysitter comes, you can leave and eat oysters and drink campaign.”
“Drink what?” I ask, wondering if I heard him right.
“Campaign! Like the stuff grown-ups put in those cups that Mom says I can’t touch or I’ll get in trouble.”
“I think you mean champagne,” Candace says gently.
He stomps his foot in annoyance. “That’s what I said!”
“Right, well, that sounds very lovely. I’d love to join you,” Candace says, a blush forming on the tops of her cheeks. She’s looking down at Briggs instead of me, and I wonder if it’s due to nerves.
She explains she still has to finish with pick-up and then clean up her classroom. I ask her when she’ll be done, and we promise to meet her out in front of the school then.
When we leave, Briggs insists we have to go get really dressed up while we wait for Candace to finish. There’s a kids’ clothing store on our walk home, and it’s a good excuse to duck away from the photographers out on the street.
Briggs marches right up to the clerk behind the counter and speaks with very enunciated words. “Excuse me, I am going on a date. I need to be fancy. Like a prince.”
The shopkeeper looks to me for confirmation, and I nod in agreement.
“Of course, right this way. I think I have just the thing for you,” he says to Briggs, talking to him like he’s his most loyal customer.
Briggs follows after the man until we make it to the back corner of the shop where there are outfits for kids to wear to weddings, little suits and dresses.
Briggs surveys them for one second then points his finger up to the top. “That one. It’s perfect.”
“Briggs, that’s a tuxedo.”
Why do they even sell tuxedos for kids?
“Right. It’s what princes wear in the movies. I want that one.”
It doesn’t stop there either. Once he has his tuxedo, apparently I need one to.
“I thought you were the prince,” I tell him as we continue our walk back to my apartment, now with a huge shopping bag in tow.
“I am, but so are you,” he says exasperatedly. “We have to both wear tuxedos. And I promise I won’t look more handsome than you, so don’t be sad.”
Right. That’s what I was worried about.Chapter EighteenCandaceI’m still worked up about the way Erin shouted at me in front of Logan. It’s the plight of a preschool teacher working in a place like The Day School. I try my hardest. I wrap myself up in tissue and read a book about mummies and really feel like I’m going the extra mile to be a good teacher, and then BAM, a parent like Erin waltzes in and has a go at me.
I’m not very good at taking criticism even when it’s the constructive sort. I wish I could stop going over her words in my head, but they’re in there good and cemented and they’ve got me wondering if I tried hard enough to get Margaux to take a nap earlier, if I should have been stricter and really forced the issue. No. It’s useless. In this line of work, you’re damned if you do, damned if you don’t. On another day, Erin would have shouted at me if I had forced Margaux to have a lie-down.
I’m sitting out on the steps with a stomach that’s quite grumbly and annoyed with me and a brain that can’t seem to get over the terrible end to my workday when Pat’s SUV pulls up to the curb.
Briggs and Logan climb out from the back, and a laugh bursts out of me before I can help it.
It’s not that it’s funny what they’ve done. It’s just so wonderfully cute!
Briggs is dressed in a tiny black tuxedo! I didn’t even know they made tuxedos so small! And his lovely brown curls are all tucked back and real glossy like he’s got some hair gel on them. In his hands, there’s a bouquet of sunflowers.
Behind him, Logan stands with his hands in his pockets and a sort of nervous smile playing on his lips. He’s dressed up too, just like he was for the gala, all black and debonair and drop-dead gorgeous. He doesn’t have flowers; he’s let Briggs have them all, but well…what does he need flowers for? He’s the gift, isn’t he?
I sort of wobble as I push to stand, a cacophony of butterflies fluttering loose in my stomach.
“Ms. Candace! I mean, Princess Candace! Your carriage is here!” Briggs says, sweeping his arm back to the SUV.
“Wow, how did I get so lucky? Two princes?”
“Don’t worry, I’m just the chaperone,” Logan teases as I step toward them. “But we better hurry and get off the street or the photographers will find us. I saw a few a while back.”
