Midsummer Night's Dream by Anya Summers

Author:Anya Summers [Summers, Anya]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: S & G Books, LLC

By the time Sylvie arrived at her third story walk-up apartment, lugging her suitcase and already missing Dean something fierce, it was nearly dinner time.

The entire flight home, she had wrestled with the idea of looking for a position in Denver as soon as she made it back. It was stupid to remain in a place that held very little appeal for her.

Her apartment seemed microscopic after the days spent in Dean’s house with all the wide-open spaces, not to mention his baby grand. With her stomach rumbling and protesting the lack of food, she glanced in her fridge and grimaced. Her romaine lettuce was wilted, the strawberries were moldy, and the rest of her fresh fruit and vegetables looked rather sketchy.

And she didn’t want to go through the process of trying to defrost chicken or figure out what to cook. Exhausted both physically and emotionally from the day, she made the executive decision to order a pizza. She got one loaded with veggies so she could lie to herself and say it was healthy.

And then she texted Dean.

Sylvie: I made it home.

She got a response two minutes later, like he had been watching his phone: I’m already looking at flights. Get me the dates you’re off for both holidays, and I will get the tickets.

Sylvie: I will double check the dates at school tomorrow to make sure they are accurate before I give them to you.

Dean: I want to FaceTime.

There was a knock on the door. That was fast. Mario’s Pizza usually took longer. But considering she was starving, and already looking at the sketchy strawberries like they might be worth the risk, she was grateful the food had arrived so fast.

Sylvie: Can we do it after I eat? My pizza is here, and I’m starving.

Dean: Eat. Then call me later.

She thumbed out: Sir, yes, Sir. With a kissy emoji behind it.

At the second knock, she shouted, “On my way, just a moment.”

At the door, she undid the lock and deadbolt. Yanking the door open with a smile on her face for the delivery man, she stilled when she didn’t spy the familiar bespectacled twenty-something college kid. On her doorstep was a petite blonde girl on the cusp of puberty. She couldn’t be more than eleven or twelve. She was golden and pink, with her bright neon pink peacoat. Her blonde hair was styled in a French braid. And she was staring at Sylvie oddly.

“Can I help you? Are you lost?” Sylvie asked, thinking that this was a bizarre end to her long day. And the girl on her doorstep unsettled her. Those big, blue eyes stared at her with rabid interest.

“That depends. Are you Sylvie Addams?” the girl asked, clutching her hands together.

“Yes, I’m Miss Addams. Do you know me from Westhill? Are you one of my students?” Sylvie asked. Her heart pounded in her chest as she stared into eyes that were so like her own.

The child shook her head nervously and replied, “No. None of that. Did you perhaps give a baby girl up for adoption twelve years ago?”

Oh god!

It couldn’t be.

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