A Fairy Tale by Shanna Swendson

Author:Shanna Swendson [Swendson, Shanna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FIC010000 FICTION / Fairy Tales, Folk Tales, Legends & Mythology, FIC044000 FICTION / Contemporary Women, FIC009010 FICTION / Fantasy / Contemporary
Publisher: NLA Digital LLC
Published: 2014-12-03T07:00:00+00:00

Twenty-seven

Central Park

Thursday, 8:45 p.m.

Michael whirled at the sound of Sophie’s voice. His eyes widened when he saw her, then he frowned and glanced around, like he was trying to figure out where she’d come from. Still on the offensive, she said, “We need to get you home and dry.” She tried holding her umbrella over both of them, but it required her holding her arm straight over her head. “Here, you hold it,” she said, putting it into his left hand. “You’re too tall for me to cover.” He took the umbrella without protest, probably because he was too stunned to speak, then went along when she put her hand on his back and began walking.

He finally found his voice. “What are you doing out in this?”

“It wasn’t like this when I went out. I thought Beau could use some exercise.”

“How did you get Beau to come with you? I can’t get him to go to the end of the block.”

“Maybe he likes me better.”

It felt like they were in their own little world under the canopy of the umbrella. She couldn’t help but smile at the thought of the macho policeman holding the umbrella with Degas’s ballerinas on it. The dim light, the shadow of the umbrella, and the way she had to walk pressed against his side to stay in the umbrella’s shelter meant he couldn’t see her injuries and couldn’t read her face. She wasn’t sure what she’d do when they got home and he got a good look at her. Bruises took time to form, but the sleeve of her sweater wasn’t long enough to cover the burn on her wrist, and her cheek still stung from the slap, so she was sure it had left a mark.

Although her hand on his back was meant to steady him, it grounded her, as well. She didn’t know which of them was trembling—possibly both of them. He was at the end of his strength and she’d reached the point of emotional overload. His breathing had become ragged, like it took too much effort to get enough air, and that meant there was no conversation. When they reached the edge of the park, she said, “Are you okay? Maybe we should get a cab.”

He shook his head. “I’m fine.” But he gasped for air between words. “Besides, we’d never get one in the rain, with the dog. Even you couldn’t pull that off.” She was ready to argue, but she saw the number of people standing on the curb. She didn’t know if there was a spell for getting a cab or if the way she always managed to find one had been magic all along.

By the time they reached his street, she’d put her arm around his waist to support him, and he leaned heavily against her. “We’re almost there,” she said encouragingly as they neared his building. She half carried him up the front steps, and then she leaned him against the wall where the intercom was while she opened the door.

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