Page 119 of His Kidnapped Queen
“I think you’re cut out to do anything you want,” Scott says sweetly, and I smile, hugging him tightly. He hands me his keys and I walk out to the parking garage, hitting the key fob until I see Scott’s car.
I slide into the driver’s side then drive to Agnes’ house. When I arrive, it’s around noon and Rosa’s out playing in the dirt.
“My shoes is dirty,” she says flatly when I scoop her up, pointing down at her feet, and I’m laughing and crying and she’s looking at me like I’ve lost my mind.
Maybe I have.
Agnes comes to the door, smiling behind the screen. “Well, hey there, stranger,” she says, and I burst into tears.
Agnes makes a distressed noise in the back of her throat and comes outside, taking Rosa from me and hugging me close.
“Oh, it’s alright, Sophia. Hard week?’
“You could say that,” I sniffle. “I need to take her home, we have some things to talk about.”
Agnes just nods. She doesn’t push, and that’s one of the things I love about her.
“Thank you so much, Aggie. For everything,” I tell her, and when I hug her for some reason it feels like goodbye.
When we arrive home, Rosa rushes to her room, picking out the dolls she’s missed.
I let her play for a while, sitting quietly on the edge of her twin bed.
“Mama? Wanna play?”
“Not yet, Rosie girl.” I pause, trying to think of how to say it. “Do you ever wonder about your daddy?”
“I don’t have a daddy,” she says matter-of-factly and it’s like a dagger through my heart.
“That’s not exactly true, honey.”
She looks up at me with wide green eyes. “Idohave a daddy?”
“You do. His name is Luca and we’re going to visit him at the hospital?”
She frowns. “He’s sick?”
“A little bit. He got hurt, and the doctors helped him. So you can’t jump on him and stuff. And…he’s tied up.”
“Tied up?”
I wince. “Handcuffed. Just so he doesn’t get up and hurt himself.”
I’m lying to my daughter all over again, but I just can’t bear to tell her that her father’s going to prison. Not yet.
“We goin’ now? My shoes are dirty.”
“I’ll get your black ones.”
This time, she doesn’t put up a fuss as I dress her in a flouncy dress with tights and a pair of hi-top shoes. I put her dark hair back in a blue ribbon and she twirls around in her dress.
“Do I look pretty, Mama?”
“Gorgeous,” I respond with a bright smile, and I scoop her up into my arms, holding her on my hip as I lead her out to Scott’s car.
“Uncle Scott!” she calls when she sees the car, her face falling when he isn’t sitting in the driver’s seat.
“He’ll meet us at the hospital.”
