Chapter Twenty-Six
Alara set down her brush and stared up at the view of the castle she'd just finished painting. She'd completed the one of the bare land earlier in the week, and she'd been eager to finish this one as soon as she could.
When Reaves had told her Ollie and Callie weren't around today—so they couldn't have their Saturday pool day—she'd asked if he and Zia wanted to come over to the house with her instead.
It wouldn't have been ideal, though, and Reaves had suggested he could take Zia to the shelter to visit Homer.
Of course, that was where Zia had wanted to go.
She pushed her chair back and wrapped her arms around herself, looking at the painting she'd just completed. It really did look like a fairytale castle.
She hugged herself, having to admit that for the last week—since she and Reaves had finally spent the night together—her life really did feel like a fairytale.
Charles was the kind old king Zia had described.
He'd made everything possible for them, and when he'd returned last Sunday, he'd made everything so easy.
She suspected Reaves had talked to him, told him they'd spent the night together, because since then it had just somehow been assumed that Reaves would keep sleeping in her room. And he had.
And Reaves—how she loved that man. He might be Prince Daddy to Zia, but to Alara, he was the king of her heart.
Of her whole world. He was working hard; he and Ollie made a great team.
Charles kept mentioning how well things were running under their leadership already.
And Charles himself seemed so much happier, more relaxed, now that he got to pursue his passion for being a winemaker without having to deal with the business side of things.
She turned to look back at the house. From her spot out here in the yard, it really did look like a fairy tale cottage.
She hadn't made as much progress on it as she'd expected over the last week, but the paint was ordered, and she'd shown Charles preliminary designs for upgrading the bathrooms and the kitchen.
He kept insisting she didn't need his approval—that this was her project.
Her house. She smiled at the thought. She was starting to cautiously believe that it could be.
She still couldn't quite believe the sum of money Delaney had told her Ollie was happy to pay for the painting he'd commissioned. And she'd already lined up a couple more people—no, clients; Delaney said she had to call them clients—who wanted to commission paintings too.
She fished her phone out of her purse to check the time. She should get back up to the castle. Reaves had said he and Zia might stop to see Grady, Hannah, and Ava on their way back, but she wanted to be there, ready, when they arrived home.
There went that word again. Home. It seemed to come so easily now. She stopped to examine it—but there was nothing left in her that wanted to resist it. Jesse had always told her to just hang in there, because one day she'd find her place in the world.
Now she knew she had.
~ ~ ~
"Prince Daddy?"
"What's up, Z?" Reaves met Zia's gaze in the rearview mirror as he pulled away from Hannah and Grady's cottage.
"Thank you for taking me to see Homer today."
"You're welcome. I told you we'd go."
"I know. And you don't say things unless you mean them."
"I don't." As he approached the gate on the way out of the Jacobs estate, he pursed his lips, resolving that he'd always live up to her faith in him.
He slowed the Land Cruiser as they reached the gatehouse. Slade wasn't there, but John poked his head out and raised his hand.
"There's the Quiet Dragon. Can we say hello?" Zia called from the back.
"Sure thing." He put his window down and had to do Zia's for her.
"Quiet Dragon! Quiet Dragon!" she called.
John came over and nodded at Reaves. "Hey, Miss Zia. It's good to see you."
"It's good to see you, Quiet Dragon. We got our happy ever after, you know."
John grinned at Reaves and nodded. "I'm glad to hear it. You deserve one."
"So do you. We need to find you a princess."
John chuckled. "I don't know about that. But if you find one, let me know, okay?"
"I will," said Zia. "She's out there somewhere."
"Don't get too carried away with that one," John told her. "I think most princesses prefer handsome princes to quiet dragons."
Reaves could only smile when Zia said, "It doesn't matter what most of them want. You only need one. And I know there's a princess out there who needs a quiet dragon all of her own. I'll ask Prince Daddy to bring me to tell you, if I find her."
"Well, I appreciate that," John told her.
He looked up, and when Reaves followed his gaze, he saw Becca's Land Rover pulling in off the road.
"We'll get out of here," Reaves told John. "But I'll give you a call. You should come out next time we all get together."
"Thanks. Maybe I will."
"See you soon, Quiet Dragon!" Zia called.
Reaves grinned at the way John waggled his fingers in a little wave. He was relieved that Becca only waved as she passed—he enjoyed talking with her, and he knew Zia did too, but they were already going to be back later than he'd expected.
As he pulled out onto the road, Zia heaved a big sigh, and he had a feeling he knew what was coming.
"Prince Daddy?"
He smiled to himself. "Yes, Z?"
"Do you think Homer's okay?"
"I do. But I think you're right—I think he'll be happier when he can leave the shelter."
"Can we take him home?" she asked.
He inhaled deeply before he answered. He knew he couldn't say it yet, however much he wanted to. All he could do was tell her the truest thing he had.
"I hope so."
He got Zia out of her seat when they got back to his dad's place, and the minute her feet hit the ground, she ran off up the steps into the house. He collected her backpack and followed her inside.
Faye poked her head out of the kitchen and grinned at him. "How did it go?"
He went to her and kissed her cheek. "It was great. You want to see that dog, Faye."
She chuckled. "You know I do. I want to make sure it's going to be well behaved. I don't need some mutt in my kitchen, stealing sausages."
He laughed. "Stop pretending you're not as excited about it as I am."
She gave him a wry smile. "I'll stop pretending when I know it's for real." She lowered her voice. "But listen—do you know what your dad's up to tonight?"
He grinned. "Yeah, I do. Don't you?"
"No, I don't. He asked me to make a simple dinner—things we can all pick at, instead of sitting down with knives and forks.
Says he wants to eat out on the terrace.
He's got something up his sleeve, but I don't know what it is.
" She narrowed her eyes at him. "If you know, then it must be something for the girls, right? "
"Yeah. It is. I didn't know if he was going to do it tonight, but…"
"Oh." Faye's eyes grew wide. "Is he going to…?"
"I think so. I think trying to keep up the pretense is killing him."
Faye laughed. "I can see that. Well—get on out there. Your dad and Alara are on the terrace. I'll catch up with you in a little while."
"Is there anything I can do to help?"
She reached up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Just keep being you."
He wrapped her in a hug. "You do the same."
She pushed him off. "I wouldn't know how to do anything else. Oh—and don't forget to water the sunflowers, will you?"
"I'll do them now, before we eat."
Out on the terrace, his dad and Alara were sitting in the wicker chairs while Zia scampered around them, telling them all about her visit with Homer.
He went to kiss Alara’s cheek before asking, "Wanna come help me water the sunflowers, Z?"
She turned to stare at him for a moment, tilted her head to the side, then looked back at her mom and Charles. "I'll be back," she told them, before running to Reaves.
As they made their way down the side of the house, she skipped in circles around him. "Did you know that people eat sunflower seeds?"
He was about to say that yes, he did—he liked them himself—but he decided to wait and see what her take on it was before he committed. "I have heard that," he said. "Do you like them?"
Her little eyes narrowed. "I do like them. But I like them because they're going to grow up to be sunflowers. If someone doesn't come along and eat them first."
He couldn't hold back a laugh. "Yeah. I didn't think about that."
She looked up at the large golden heads of the sunflowers they were watering. They were starting to fade now, and he scooped her up to point out the seeds.
"They're not ready yet. But when they are…"
Zia's eyes went wide. "When they are, we'll have hundreds and hundreds of sunflowers!"
He bit back a laugh. "Yeah. We might need to talk to Grandpa Grape about that. He likes them—but I don't know about hundreds and hundreds of them."
He had to hold her steady as she leaned back suddenly, peering around to see if she could spot his dad. But he was out of sight from here.
"I'll ask him," she said. "We must save the seeds. We can't let people eat them. Maybe we can scatter them—or take some to the Cornflower Kingdom and the Bluebell Kingdom. Everyone should have sunflowers, don't you think?"
"Yeah. I think they probably should."
He set her down when he heard Faye calling them to come eat.
~ ~ ~
Alara could barely contain herself while they ate. She couldn't wait to see Charles's face when she showed him the two paintings. She'd managed to set them up on easels in his study when she got back and had recruited Faye's help in making sure he wouldn't go in there before she was ready.
She loved listening to Reaves talk to him about the winery. She'd loved the relationship they had right from the beginning, but it seemed even sweeter now—now that Reaves was so engaged with the House of St. James.
When Charles finally set his napkin down, she couldn't take it any longer. She glanced at Faye, who nodded encouragingly. Reaves took her hand and held it on top of his thigh, and Zia grinned at her.
"Did you finish it, Mom?"