Page 53 of Shattered Throne
Xavier tried again. And again. On the fifth attempt, the string somehow wrapped around his legs, his arms, and his torso, leaving him standing in the middle of the grass like a very confused mummy.
Zoe collapsed into giggles. The sound rang out across the park, bright and joyful.
"You look so silly!" She was laughing so hard she could barely breathe.
"This kite is defective." Xavier struggled against his string prison. "This is clearly a manufacturing issue."
"It's not the kite!" Zoe gasped between giggles. "You're just bad at it!"
"I am not bad at it. I'm experiencing technical difficulties."
Zoe turned to me, tears of laughter streaming down her face. "Mommy! Tell him he's doing it wrong!"
I looked at Xavier, wrapped in kite string, dignity in tatters, and the laugh escaped before I could stop it.
"You're doing it wrong," I said.
Xavier clutched his chest—or tried to, but his arms were tangled. "Betrayal. From my own girlfriend."
I glanced at Zoe, hoping she hadn’t heard that. She was safely distracted by the failing kite. "Fake girlfriend," I corrected.
"The betrayal stands."
Zoe dissolved into fresh giggles. I stood up and helped Xavier untangle himself, my fingers brushing his as I worked the string free. He was warm, solid, and entirely too close.
"Let me try," I said, taking the kite.
On my first attempt, it soared.
The red diamond climbed into the blue sky, tail streaming behind it, catching the wind and riding it higher and higher. Zoe cheered. Xavier stared.
"How did you?—"
"Foster home number six." I handed the string to Zoe, guiding her small hands. "The dad was really into kites. It's the only good thing I learned there."
Zoe held the string with both hands, face tilted toward the sky, watching the kite dance in the wind. Her expression was pure joy. Pure wonder.
"I'm doing it!" she squealed. "Mommy, look, I'm doing it!"
"You're doing it, baby."
Xavier moved to stand beside me. Close. Not quite touching.
"Show me," he said. "Teach me."
So I did. I stood behind him, my hands over his on the string, showing him how to feel the wind, how to give the kite room to climb, how to pull back when it started to dive. His back was warm against my chest. His hands were large beneath mine. I remained in the moment. I’d worry about any feelings later.
"Like this?" His voice was lower now. Closer.
"Like that."
The kite soared higher.
When Xavier finally got it airborne on his own—after extensive coaching from both me and Zoe—and my daughter cheered like he'd won an Olympic medal.
"You did it! You did it!"
The expression on Xavier's face made something crack open in my chest. Pride. Joy. Wonder. Like this simple accomplishment meant more to him than any business deal ever could.
