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But after the way Hudson looked at me ten minutes ago in the kitchen, I want him to see me in this instead of the baggy sweats and hoodie I’ve been wearing around his house.

So, I don’t overthink it. I put on the dress, tie the pretty sash around my waist, and turn around.

Then gasp.

Because there’s an adorable little girl standing in my bedroom.

She waves and smiles. “Are you a princess?”

Thirteen

Dash

Briar is on a tear, determined to figure out why my kitchen is such a mess and what happened. If I let her think I fell and dropped everything, she won’t give me a moment’s peace. Nothing else will make sense, though, so I’m glad when I hear Frankie’s footsteps tapping on the floor.

“Mommy!” Frankie’s eyes are wide.

“You okay?” Briar looks up from where she’s wiping down the counter—despite me asking her not to.

“There’s a princess in the guest room!” Frankie announces triumphantly.

Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

I nearly groan but manage to keep my emotions in check.

“There’s what?” Briar’s brows knit together. “What are you talking about?”

“Cinderella is in the guest room.”

If my life wasn’t about to get hella complicated, I would have laughed at the excitement on Frankie’s face.

Briar isn’t stupid.

She also knows that Frankie is incredibly bright. She doesn’t just make stuff up like this, so if she says there’s someone in the guest room—even if she insists it’s Cinderella—there has to be at least a modicum of truth to it.

Briar dries her hands and turns to leave the kitchen.

“Briar. Stop.” My voice is low but firm. “I said stop.”

She turns slowly, hands on her hips, the question in her eyes unmistakable. “Hudson?”

There’s no way out of this.

She expects—and deserves—an explanation.

“I’m allowed to have guests,” I say in an even tone that keeps Frankie from catching on to my frustration but gives Briar the clear indication that I’m not kidding around.

“Yes. You are.” Briar seems confused. “But you’ve never hidden one before. Is this—oh shit.” I don’t know what conclusion she’s come to, but it makes her glance down at Frankie worriedly.

“Briar, just let me?—”

“Who’s in the guest room?” Her eyes meet mine, hers filled with a combination of worry and curiosity.

“It’s not—” I’m cut off by movement in the doorway.

“Hello. I’m Willow.” And she breezes in like my sister and niece aren’t about to lose their minds.

In a blue dress I’ve never seen before.