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Moving closer, she extends her hand, closing her fingers, all but the little one.
“Do you know what happens when you break a pinky promise?”
I shrug my shoulders with a grin. “What happens?”
“You have to cut your finger off.”
Ava gasps beside us, throwing her hand over her mouth. Andy nods in agreeance.
“Geez, Amelia. A bit dramatic, don’t you think?”
“That’s why you don’t break the promise,” she informs me.
I extend my own hand and wrap my finger around her small one. She squeezes it tight, but as I try to pull away, she grips tighter, her face turned all serious.
“William Rockford Romano, pinky promise you’ll come to my wedding and buy me the most expensive present. No matter what song I choose, you have to dance with me even if you hate it.”
“I promise, Amelia Grace Edwards. How about a China set?”
“That’s so 1950’s,” she complains.
“Do you even know what that means?”
“Yes, Mommy says it all the time,” she says confidently, yanking my finger again, causing me to scowl. “Do we have ourselves a promise?”
“We have ourselves a promise.”
Amelia pulls away with a satisfied smile on her face while Andy and Ava continue to stand beside us in a confused state.
Babysitting these kids is exhausting. Amelia is the most challenging of all. I’ll take Andy, who rarely speaks, and sweet little Ava, over the spawn of the devil.
Surely, Amelia will forget her little promise, and I’ll be long gone living my own life. I mean, she’s eight. Plenty of years to grow up and forget all about this moment.
Plus, there’s no way in hell I’m sitting through a wedding. Let alone dance to some stupid love song.
Weddings suck.
I feel sorry for the man who falls in love with her one day. She’s going to ruin him, and he’ll probably curse the day she was born.
All I can say is—thank god it isn’t me.
1
AMELIA
Present
“I don’t want to be that person, but are we there yet?”
I rest my hands on my hips while trying to gulp for air, desperate to alleviate the burn inside my chest. Austin stops a few steps ahead of me, then turns around to wait. He doesn’t respond to my question, ignoring my complaint with a grin on his sun-drenched face. With his sunglasses on, and a Laker’s hat perched on his head to block the Californian rays, he extends his hand to help me continue.
“Quit complaining, Millie,” Ava yells over her shoulder. “The fresh air could do you some good.”
Ava is a known workout addict. For fun, she enjoys Pilates, yoga, and running—partaking in marathons with Dad. Granted, she has the most amazing body from her physical efforts. Dad is also pretty fit. However, I choose to block out the comments often made by women whenever a photo surfaces of him online. Mom has the patience of a saint. If anyone publicly made comments about my man, I would have something to say about it.
Though when it’s about your father, the man who raised you, swipe up and pretend you didn’t just read the most graphic comment of your life.
Austin is holding my hand tight with an uncomfortable sweat building between our palms. Every inch of me hurts. My knees, my feet, and my lungs burning, making it extremely difficult to breathe. I don’t know why I agreed to go hiking, considering it is my least favorite pastime, but Ava is very persuasive. Often, it was easier to agree with her just to shut her up.
