Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 34149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 171(@200wpm)___ 137(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 171(@200wpm)___ 137(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
Now I know I’m right about her. “I bet that costume is itchy, huh?”
She nods again, assessing me. It’s adorable, and my heart melts. How have I never noticed Josie isn’t just introverted?
“Is there a tag at the back that’s tickling you, Little one?”
Her eyes go wider. Finally, she speaks. “How did you know?”
“My sister has sensory processing disorder. I recognize the signs.”
“She does?” Josie’s mouth falls open.
“Yep. All her life. I’m really good at recognizing and eliminating stressful triggers. Years of practice.” I’m reaching her. I’m so fucking happy. My smile is about to split my face.
“I should have tried the costume on at home,” she whispers.
I shrug. “It might have been fine if it were only the costume, but there are too many people here and the music is loud, and there’s a strobe light tonight in the main room.” I hope if I point out all the things I’m aware of, she’ll feel understood.
Another slow nod. “And my shoes are sticky,” she adds.
I smile again. I forgot that one. “That’s right.”
“I’m good at handling two or three things, but it got to be too many,” she says in a Little voice.
“Sometimes you can’t predict these things, Little one. Totally understandable. And you’re so smart to have crawled under the table. Are you feeling better?” She’s making eye contact, and I don’t see signs of her having an anxiety attack, so I’m betting the corner is helping.
“I don’t know.” She squirms, tugging on the Cinderella dress.
“Do you have something on underneath the pretty princess costume, Josie?”
She gasps. “You know my name?”
I smile. “You’ve been coming here for six months, Little one. I know who you are.” I ache to reach out and stroke her cheek or her arm, but I refrain. I don’t want to add to her triggers.
“Oh.” She tugs on the neckline again, wincing. “I have a shirt and shorts on under this. I thought they would keep it from feeling icky.”
“Do you think you could take the costume off, princess?”
When she gives me a slight smile, my chest tightens. “I’m not a princess,” she informs me.
I gasp dramatically. “Of course, you are. You don’t need a costume to prove it.”
“People will look at me funny if I take it off,” she murmurs.
“Nope. We’ll tell them you spilled punch on it,” I declare, rather proud of myself.
“I didn’t even drink the punch. I don’t like… it.”
I wonder what she was going to say, but I’ll have to find out later. “I didn’t like it either.” I make a gross face. “It was too sweet.”
She giggles. “You’re silly.”
And now my heart stops.
“You’re lying under the table,” she points out as if I don’t know this.
“So are you,” I tell her.
“Do you really think I can take this stupid dress off?”
“I know you can. And you’ll still be a princess to me. Just without the annoying pea under all the mattresses.”
She gasps, and her eyes bug out. “You know the story the Princess and the Pea?”
“Of course, I do. Doesn’t everyone?” I tease.
She shakes her head. “No. No one does.”
“Well, I do. I bet you identify with the princess because you know you would notice a pea even under ten mattresses, wouldn’t you, Little one?”
She nods, her eyes still adorably wide.
“I’d like to be your prince if you’d give me a chance. Can you do that, Little one? Can you take a chance on me and let me help you?”
She bites into her bottom lip, thinking. Finally, she nods. “Okay.”
I lift a hand, not wanting to startle her. “Can I unfasten the back for you?”
“Okay,” she whispers, leaning her head forward.
The back of the dress is Velcro, so it’s easy for me to pull the two pieces apart.
She holds her breath while I do so, and I feel confident it’s not my touching her that’s the problem. It’s the sound of the Velcro because she releases her breath as soon as it parts.
Without touching her skin, I ease the two sleeves down and pull the crinkly dress off her. It’s cheap. The kind of thing someone can buy from a Halloween costume store. I bet Josie would love to have a beautiful princess dress custom made from a material that wouldn’t irritate her without Velcro or tags or zippers or any triggers.
And God I suddenly hope I get to be the man—the Daddy—to make that happen for her.
“Is Cinderella your favorite princess, Josie?”
She nods.
I tuck that away in my mind as I carefully fold the dress up in front of me. It’s awkward in my reclined position, but I manage.
Josie is wearing white cotton shorts and a white tank top. I don’t think she has on a bra. She’s petite and doesn’t need one for support, but I suspect she can’t stand wearing them either.
When she glances down at herself, her breath hitches slightly before she pulls her knees up and holds them over her chest again.