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My feet shuffle on the floor as I follow at a careful distance. It’d be a shame to disrupt her controlled chaos for no reason. “I’m just going to text your dad, okay?”
“Uh-huh,” she mumbles while inspecting the contents in my cabinets. The hinges squeak in protest from the abrupt open and shut motions. She doesn’t reach for anything sharp, which gives me the confidence to take my eyes off her long enough to send a message to Jake.
Me:Hey. I invited Syd to hang out for a bit. Cool?
Jerky Jacob:
I let my jaw hang loose at his flippant—albeit expected—response.
Me:Did you srsly thumbs up me?
Jerky Jacob:Sure did
“Miss Harper, look! I’m sooooo beautiful, just like you.” Sydney appears in front of me without warning.
The startle tactic almost squeezes a little pee out of me. Then I see her face, or mostly her mouth. It’s apparent I made the fatal error of leaving her unattended for thirty seconds.
My heart threatens to pound right out of my chest. “Holy shhhhi… ish kebab. Did you find my lipstick stash?”
She puckers her paint job for approval. “Whadayuh you think?”
“Ummm, you’ll certainly turn heads on the street. Probably stop traffic too.”
Her gasp is pure delight. “Whoa. I did that good?”
“Yeah, you even colored outside the lines to be sure.” I roll my lips together to stifle a giggle.
“Yay!” Her fist flies straight into the air while she blows rapid-fire kisses.
Based on the shade, she chose a long-lasting stain. That stuff won’t come off until tomorrow unless we scrub it with a makeup removal wipe. It’s a blessing that Jake isn’t here to witness her creativity. But that’s an issue I’ll concern myself with once her motor shifts into park. If she even hits that gear during waking hours. I’m convinced her energy runs from a nonstop tap.
On cue, Syd’s gaze swings to a spot behind me. “Ooooooh, I love to read.”
I brace myself when her attention sticks to the bookshelf. “There aren’t any for kiddos.”
And that’s putting it mildly. My collection consists of smutty romance and dramatic thrillers.
“Are you positive?” She’s already en route to fact-check.
“Pretty sure,” I insist while jogging to catch her stride.
Sydney screeches to a sudden halt in front of the fireplace. She whirls to study the picture hanging above the mantle. “Wowwwww. Is that you, Miss Harper?”
My eyes take several seconds to stop spinning after so much action. I glance at the framed photograph that’s stalled her progress. The picture behind the glass captures me in an elegant grand jeté. My left ankle throbs at the memory of a failed landing not too long after this shot was taken.
I sniff at the emotions threatening to rise. “Yep, that’s me in college.”
Her stained lips part in awe. “I’ve never seen you dance like that.”
“It’s been a while since I’ve danced like that. I got hurt and had to take a break from the really tricky moves.” Not that those advanced steps were sending me farther than the campus theater. “That’s why teaching is better for me.”
Concern splashes across her pinched features. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, of course.” I lift into en pointe, or as close to it as I can get with bare toes.
Syd offers a round of applause, appearing satisfied with my demonstration. She stares at the photo for another moment. Then her body curls forward in an exaggerated hunch.
“I’m hungry.” It seems the bookshelf adventure is officially forgotten as she pats her tummy.
