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“But I got better,” she whispered shakily. “I stopped.”
I squeezed her hand. “Yes, you did, babe. And Xavi will too if we help him. He’s just excited to meet you.”
I turned to Xavier with a warm smile. He seemed to relax. Slightly.
“Xavi,” I said. “This is Sofia, my daughter. Sof, this is my friend Xavi.”
Sofia drew her little gaze from Xavier’s shiny black shoes slowly up his long legs, then up his tall body until her neck was craned completely back. They stared at each other for a long time, reminding me somewhat of dogs of the same breed who instantly recognized each other at the park. Not always friendly, but somehow noting a kinship.
Terror washed through me. What if she knew? Sofia was at the age where she liked nothing better than to prance in front of the mirror in one of her princess costumes, cooing at her reflection. What if she looked at the face peering down at her and recognized the deep, sloping blue eyes, the full, broad lips, and onyx hair?
What if she never forgave me for it?
“You’re really tall,” she told him, then turned back to me, possibly just to rest her neck. “He’s really tall, Mommy. He looks like a skyscraper.”
Xavier’s black brows formed a deep frown, then slowly, he squatted down until he was closer to her level, only a few inches taller instead of several feet.
“Better?” he asked, one side of his mouth quirking, blue eyes twinkling. “These are for you. Camellias. My mum told me never to meet a new girl empty-handed.”
Sofia’s eyes popped open as she accepted the flowers. For a second, I could imagine myself in her shoes—a tall, handsome man, bending down almost to one knee, presenting flowers, speaking with a dashing accent. It was like one of her fairytales had come to life.
Lord, my daughter was a goner.
“What?” Xavier asked, clearly dumbfounded as he looked up at me. “Did I do something wrong again? I didn’t say ‘fuck,’ did I?”
I looked back at Sofia, who didn’t seem to have noticed the second curse.
“You sound like a prince,” she said, which came out solemnly as pwince while she accepted the flowers. Then to me, “Mommy, he sounds like a prince. He looks like one too.”
Xavier frowned up at me questioningly. But I understood immediately.
“It’s the accent,” I told him. “She watches a lot of Disney.”
“Mommy loves princes,” Sofia told him. “She watches movies about them all the time.”
“Sofia, I do not,” I scolded her a little too harshly. “You’re the one who loves all the Disney princess movies.”
She shook her head vigorously. “No, not those, Mama. Like the movies you watch when you think I’m asleep. Like Downtown Cabby and Sense and Spaghetti.”
“Ooh,” I said, managing not to laugh at Sof’s creative titles.
Xavier wasn’t quite so good at hiding his own dismay. But he didn’t laugh. In fact, he almost looked concerned.
“Those are period dramas,” I corrected her. “Most of the characters are gentry, not royalty. None of them are princes.”
“Well, they all look like princes,” Sofia assured herself. “And they sound just like him.”
Ergo, it was clear, Xavier was a prince.
“No wonder you like him, Mommy. I heard you tell Aunt Kate that you wanted to marry Mr. Darcy because of his voice.”
My cheeks immediately flushed.
“Is that so?” Xavier murmured warily.
“Oh my God,” I muttered, studiously avoiding his gaze.
“Are you going to marry Xavier because of his voice, Mommy? He sounds just like Mr. Darcy.” She turned to Xavier. “Are you a lord or a duke? Because that’s okay too.”
