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Arthur arrives at exactly nine o’clock the next morning, looking remarkably different from his usual polished self. Instead of his customary tailored suit, he’s wearing worn jeans, a simple gray t–shirt, and work boots. His hair isn’t perfectly styled–even that single curl is visible across his forehead–and he has a tool belt slung low on his hips.
The casual look k suits him—makes him seem more approachable, more human. More like the man
the man I fell in love with
And it makes him irresistibly handsome, so much so that I can hardly even look at him without turning red.
However, I notice something else as we drive–it’s just us. No Beta Ezra. No journalists following us. Even when we pull up to the
orphanage, I don’t see any other cars..
Out of curiosity, I ask, “Did you tell your PR manager about this or anything?”
Arthur gives me a strange look. “No. Why would I?”
I shrug and don’t bring it up further, but it takes me by surprise. Why wouldn’t he want this documented? Arthur has always been careful about his public image, always thinking about how things will play in the press.
A hands–on project at an orphanage would be ideal publicity. Unless…
Unless he’s still too embarrassed to be seen publicly with me. Even when he knows that would be the one thing that would make
me come back to him and drop the custody battle entirely.
The thought sours my mood somewhat, although I try to push it aside as we head up the front steps. Giulia greets us at the door,
beaming when she sees Arthur’s work clothes and the supplies he’s brought.
Inside, the children are gathered in the lobby, whispering excitedly amongst themselves. The little girl from yesterday–the one
with pigtails and the polka dot dress–spots Miles and waves enthusiastically.
“That’s Amy,” Giulia tells us softly. “She’s been here since she was three. Very bright, but very shy, except, it seems, with your
Miles hesitates, looking up at me for permission. I nod encouragingly, and he cautiously approaches Amy. Within moments, they’re talking animatedly, Miles showing her his shark toy and Amy showing him a tattered stuffed rabbit in return.
Curious, I glance at Arthur and see his expression shift as he watches Miles play with the little girl–sees how Miles occasionally stumbles over words, how he has to concentrate extra hard to follow what she’s saying, how his hands flap slightly when he gets
eyes and the phrase, “He shouldn’t be like that.”
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