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“I want you to make one up. Tell me a love story. I want one that starts with Once Upon A Time!” she said, getting more excited as she spoke.
I paused, then moved back to sit on her bed with a smile. “You like Once Upon A Time stories?”
She nodded. “That’s how all the best ones start.”
“You’re completely right.”
She scooted herself down into the blankets and pulled her stuffed animals up to her cheeks, waiting patiently for me to start.
“Once upon a time, there was a very stupid man.”
Molly giggled. “Is it Daddy?”
I raised my eyebrows. “Of course not. The characters in this story are entirely fictional. That means made up,” I added when I saw the look on her face. “One day, the very stupid man was attacked by a beautiful, gorgeous young princess. She thought he was a bandit, you see.”
Molly nodded seriously. “Is she a warrior princess?”
“Um, sort of. She took some self-defense classes a few years ago, but she’s a little rusty.”
“K. got it.”
I bit back a smile. “Well, the princess decided she kind of liked the bandit. He was grouchy, a little scary, and he looked like he needed her help. So she decided to offer her services to him.”
“What did he say?”
“Yes, at first. But then the foolish bandit did something stupid–see, that’s what is called a theme. The theme of this story is that the bandit keeps doing dumb things. He just can’t seem to get it right. It’s part of why he needs the princess.”
Molly nodded.
“He loved having the princess around, but the bandit decided he wanted to go back to his swamp.”
“Ew, he lived in a swamp? Was he stinky?”
“You would think so, but the bandit usually smelled pretty good. It was part of why the princess put up with his attitude. That’s the problem with bandits. Most of them are devilishly handsome. Princesses have to be careful around bandits.”
“Oh, I see.”
“If the bandit was smart, he would’ve talked to the princess and told her what was on his mind. He could’ve just said he was feeling confused because he wanted to stay with the princess, but he also felt like he needed to go back to his swamp. But what do you think he did?”
Molly’s forehead scrunched up in thought. “Did he keep it a secret?”
“Worse. He was mean to the princess so she’d leave him alone. That way, he wouldn’t need to tell her what he was really thinking.”
“Stinker,” Molly noted.
“Definitely,” I agreed. “But the princess was gracious and kind. So when the bandit came begging forgiveness again, she decided to allow it. And guess who didn’t learn his lesson the first time? The bandit made the same mistake, but he was even meaner this time. So the princess decided she was done giving him chances. The bandit went back to his swamp, and the princess took her heart and locked it up in a cage where he’d never get it.”
“She took out her heart?” Molly asked, horrified.
“Well, guess who decided the swamp didn’t seem so wonderful anymore? Mr. Bandit realized he’d made a mistake and he came back to the princess’ castle. He got below her window and went to his knees. He shouted, ‘princess, I’m the stinkiest fool in the whole realm. I don’t deserve it, but would you please take me back? Please forget what a dumb fool I’ve been!’”
Molly giggled. “He sounds silly.”
“Very. But the princess said ‘no’. So the bandit decided to cheat. He broke into the princess’ castle when she was asleep and he stole her heart right out of its hiding spot.”
Molly’s eyebrows shot up. “What did she do?”
“What could she do? He had her heart now. It doesn’t matter if he cheated. He still got the thing, didn’t he?’
“Wow,” Molly said. “That is a weird story.”
“Yes,” A deep voice agreed from the doorway behind me. “Weird, and full of historical inaccuracies. I’m pretty sure he was a handsome prince, not a bandit. And I also think it’s a stretch to say he cheated. In the version I heard, the handsome prince would stop at nothing to save the princess’ heart. She had locked it away, but she didn’t realize a heart can only stay locked up for so long before it withers away and turns black. So if the handsome prince hadn’t been willing to do anything to get it back, she would’ve lost it all together.”
“Oh, that is better,” Molly agreed.
I gave Greyson a sour look but smiled. “Hmm, nope. That definitely doesn’t sound like the version I know.”
Greyson moved past me to kneel and kiss Molly on the forehead. “Night, chicken legs.”
Molly flapped imaginary wings and made chicken noises at him, then yawned hard again.
Greyson had moved his family out of the inn. The two-bedroom next to my apartment had become available a few weeks back and they’d snagged it immediately. Now we were hardly ever apart when I wasn’t working.
