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I grab Belle’s hand and lead her to the Range Rover. “C’mon, sweetheart. Let’s go.”
I get her buckled in properly then I slide into the back with her. Now that I finally have her, I can’t bea
r to be apart, even if it’s only in the front seat.
Kingston doesn’t question me as he gets behind the wheel and presses the ignition button. Belle is chatting animatedly, telling me about her new school, a few friends she made, her dad’s girlfriend, who she says she likes a lot. She seems to be handling having her entire life uprooted much better than I have. It amazes me how resilient kids are.
I don’t even pay attention to where we’re going. I’m so absorbed by the fact that my sister is sitting right next to me, that I tune everything else out. It’s not until Kingston pulls into a parking lot that I take a look around.
Oh my God.
Belle squeals when she sees the familiar landmarks. “Ooh! Can we get ice cream? And a pretzel? And ride in the shark heads?”
Kingston’s eyes meet mine before he faces her. “Whatever you want, kiddo. This is your day.”
I’m speechless as I help Belle out of the car.
He takes my hand. “This okay?”
I squeeze his hand, nodding. “It’s more than okay.”
His face lights up in a smile. “Let’s go then. We only have a couple hours.”
The three of us walk out of the public parking lot hand-in-hand and climb the stairs leading to the pier. We weave through the crowd, making our way past souvenir and various food stands. As we pass through the entrance to Pacific Park, I glance up at the metal octopus above my head and recall the last time I was here. It was almost a year ago—my seventeenth birthday, to be exact. Belle and I were standing with our mom in this very spot. When Belle was a little younger, she was afraid to pass through the entrance because she thought the octopus was real and that it would swoop down and grab us with its tentacles if we went under it. Once we finally managed to convince her it was a sculpture, she’d stick her tongue out and say—
Belle tugs on my hand to stop and sticks her tongue out. “I’m not afraid of you, fake octopus.”
I’m practically on the verge of tears from the bittersweet memory. Kingston looks at me questionably and I mouth the same words to him that he said to me: I’ll tell you later.
He nods, intuitively knowing how hard this is for me, but also how unbelievably happy I am. Could he possibly know what significance this place holds? He must, I decide. Kingston is obviously resourceful, not only finding out where my sister lives, but also making arrangements with her father, somehow convincing him to allow us to take her out for the afternoon. Why would this guy—one who’s proven to be self-serving since the day we met—go out of his way to do something so incredibly selfless and sweet? This is by far, the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.
I keep my questions to myself for now and decide to enjoy the limited time I have with Belle. We walk throughout the park and play some of the boardwalk games. Kingston shows off his baller skills, winning a giant stuffed animal for Belle by sinking some baskets. We go on the shark head tilt-a-whirl ride that always makes me feel sick, but Belle loves it so much, I suffer through it. We gorge on soft pretzels, churros, and cotton candy, before grabbing burgers for dinner. We even go for a ride on the Ferris wheel, and I somehow manage to make it through without crying. Grabbing a few ice cream cones, we eat them while walking on the beach as the sun begins to set.
Belle falls asleep on the ride home and remains asleep as I pull her out of the Range Rover. She wakes briefly when I kiss her on the forehead before handing her over to her dad. Kingston and Jerome exchange a few quiet words before Jerome takes my sister inside and we head back to the car.
I lean my head against the window as we pull onto the road and start driving. When we stop at a red light, Kingston places his hand on the side of my face. I turn into his palm, pressing a soft kiss in the middle before looking up.
“Thank you.” My voice is barely above a whisper, but I know he hears me.
He swallows hard as his eyes search mine. The light turns green, so he turns his attention back to the road, breaking the spell. I return my focus back to the window when he doesn’t respond.
I startle when he links his fingers with mine a moment later. “Thank you for allowing me to be a part of it.”
I squeeze his hand and smile. For the first time in months, I feel genuinely happy and it’s all because Kingston Davenport does actually have a soul, and a damn fine one at that. Who would’ve thought?
CHAPTER NINETEEN
KINGSTON
“So... Jasmine... Belle... I’m sensing a theme.”
Jazz’s smile grows. She hasn’t stopped smiling all afternoon. I wouldn’t think it was possible, but she’s even more beautiful when she does that.
“Yeah, my mom had a thing for Disney princesses. Obviously.” She laughs. “Jasmine was her favorite princess. According to her, she took one look at me, and knew that I would be independent and a little rebellious, but also sweet and compassionate. All traits someone would use to describe my royal counterpart.”
Also a perfect way to describe you.
“For Belle,” she continues. “That was actually my favorite princess, which is how she got her name, but she’s actually lived up to it which is a little freaky when I think about it. My Belle is kind, imaginative, a little quirky, and the girl can spend hours in front of a book. We’ve spent a lot of time in the library.”
