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“My arm hurts.”
Jaime popped up. “I’ll get the nurse.” He was out of the room before she could even react.
Oh, boy. That wild look in his eyes scared her. “I’m so sorry you fell, sweetheart.” True to form, Kinny had attempted a spin and taken a hard fall, fracturing her forearm. It wasn’t a bad break, though.
She reached for the hand that didn’t have a needle in it. “Oh, your fingers are so cold.” She cradled it inside her cupped ones and blew warm air on it.
“I can’t feel anything, and Daddy’s scared I’m going to have surgery.”
“Did he tell you that?”
“No, I heard him talking to my grandma.”
She tried to ignore the pinch of hurt that he hadn’t told her.
It’s not about me.
Except it was kind of about her because if they were going to be together—essentially, as a family—he should be coming to her, confiding in her. She’d cut him some slack, though. After all, hadn’t everything played out exactly how he’d feared? He’d wanted to keep his daughter in the bubble for this very reason. Of course, he felt guilty.
Or angry.Maybe he blames me.
He has to.I’m the one who pushed.
Dammit.She had to talk to him.I have to know what he’s thinking.
This is killing me.
When he came back, he gave a flick of his hand. “She’s got enough painkillers in her through that thing.” He went around to the other side of the bed and kissed his daughter’s cheek. “I’m so sorry, baby.”
In her mind, she could hear the rest of that unspoken sentence play out.I never should have put you in that class.
Yes, you silly boy. You should have.
All kids get hurt.
Especially the ones who’ve been sealed in bubble wrap their whole lives.
With a flourish, she presented the box she’d tucked into her tote bag. “I have something for you.” She’d tied a pretty pink and purple bow on it. “Ta da.”
Kinny’s eyes brightened. “What is it? Which one did you bring?”
“I brought you three profiteroles. One has a caramel crunch top, the other’s strawberries and cream, and the third one’s—”
The little girl jerked up. “Nutella?”
“Hey, hey. Lie back.” Jaime checked the IV port and drew the blanket up to her chest. He took the box from Grace, opened it, and then handed it over. “Here you go.”
Kinny bit into one, the creamy brown filling squeezing out. “It’s so yummy. Thank you, Gracie.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I got an idea.” Wide-eyed, she looked to her dad. “Instead of a birthday cake, can I have these?”
“You can have whatever you want.” But he seemed confused. “You just want, like, a platter of cream puffs?”
“Actually, I can make a croquembouche, which is a tower of them.” Grace loved the idea. “So, it’ll look like a birthday cake, and we can put some candles in it. How does that sound? Here.” Knowing the little girl had no idea what she was talking about, Grace pulled out her phone. “Let me show you.” When she found an image, she showed them the cone-shaped tower of shiny cream puffs.
“I love that,” Kinny said.
