I blinked at him, surprised that he was getting this worked up about it. He must really have feelings for the woman.
Suddenly, Andrew was off. At first, I thought he'd decided that he'd had enough and he was leaving. But when I looked, I saw that Emma was on the ground, crying loudly and holding her hands out in front of her. She had clearly fallen hard, probably tripping over her own feet in her excitement.
And Andrew was there to kiss it all better.
I watched as he knelt down next to her, concern etched in every line of his face as he inspected her hands and helped her wiggle all her fingers. Once he was satisfied that there was nothing broken, he bent down and kissed both of her palms. Then, he reached out and ruffled her hair.
Emma chirped something at him, and he threw his head back and laughed, opening his arms to her. Emma hopped up and leaped into his arms, letting him catch her.
Andrew came slowly back over to me. “Emma says she's tired and wants to go home now,” he said.
I raised my eyebrows at her in surprise, but her shriek of laughter confirmed that he was just kidding. “That's not what I said!” she giggled.
“It isn't?” Andrew asked, widening his eyes at her. “Silly me. That's what I heard.”
“I want to go play with the theater stuff,” Emma said. “Please.”
I smiled. She always did like to play dress-up. “All right, let's see if we can find that,” I said, consulting the map that they'd handed us when we came in.
“I'm gonna be a princess,” Emma announced, digging out a bright pink dress and a purple tiara. She found a golden crown and expectantly held it out to Andrew. “Come on; you have to be the prince.”
Andrew blanched, looking over at me, but I just smiled sweetly at him. “Don't look at me, I'm not going to be the prince,” I said to him.
He frowned, twirling the crown around in his hands. But then, he looked at Emma struggling into her dress, and I saw a soft smile break out on his face. He put the crown on his head and rummaged through the bin of clothes until he found a cape to wear with it.
“I guess I have to rescue you, Princess Emma?” he asked.
Emma rolled her eyes with all the self-assurance of a three-year-old. “Princess Emily,” she said.
“Should I rescue you, Princess Emily?” Andrew corrected.
“Nah,” Emma said, grinning at him and brandishing a sword. “I can fight just as good as boys. See!”
I watched them race around for a while, plastic swords in hand, until Andrew dramatically “died” when Emma slashed him across the chest. I clapped my hands as they both stood up and bowed.
Then, Emma skipped over to me, tugging at my hand. “Mama, Mama, wasn't Mr. Goldwright great?” she asked excitedly.
“He was,” I agreed, looking over to where Andrew was standing. He looked almost bashful, and I had to remind myself that this was all new for him. I smiled, hoping some of the pictures on my phone had turned out. I couldn't wait to send them to Misty.
For the first time in three years, I actually felt attracted to Andrew again. Seeing him interact with Emma like that did something inside of me. It made me want him. As he scooped Emma, sans princess costume, up into his arms, I could see his biceps flexing, and as he pulled her close and kissed her on the nose, I had a sudden flashback to the first kiss that he and I had shared.
I shivered. My body flashed hot with lust.
But then he looked over toward me, an unreadable look on his face, and I was reminded of the fact that we'd been bickering again before Emma had fallen, before we had come in here to play dress-up.
I remembered that he had Renée, and these feeling of lust couldn't happen. It didn't matter that Emma was his child. He had chosen someone else, and I had to accept that. I swallowed hard, hoping I didn't look as distressed as I felt.
Fortunately, Andrew's attention was still focused on Emma. “You know what conquering princesses get as their reward?” he asked her.
“Gold?” she suggested.
“No, not gold,” Andrew said. “Something better than gold.”
“What's better than gold?”
He burst out laughing at that. “What about ice cream?” he suggested.
Emma's eyes got wide, and she looked pleadingly back at me. “Mama, can we? Can we get ice cream?”