Fairytale Come Alive (Ghosts and Reincarnation #4)(64)
Author: Kristen Ashley

Bella was sitting up in bed covers held to her na**d chest, head turned away from Fiona, staring in horror at the clock saying it was twelve after eleven.

Then she was a flurry of motion.

She threw back the covers, catapulted out of bed, snatched up her discarded clothes from the night before and threw them on.

Then she went directly to the wardrobe. Tugging the doors open, she even leaned in to grab her suitcases before she realized they weren’t there.

She stared at the empty space.

Fiona giggled at Bella.

She couldn’t help it; Bella’s face was just too funny.

“What on –?” Bella started to say, stopped then searched the room.

Then she searched the house.

Thoroughly.

Finally, she saw Prentice’s note propped up against the coffeemaker.

Fiona stood behind her, reading over her shoulder as Bella read it.

E,

S is with me so you can sleep in. Call me when you wake up and I’ll bring her home.

P

PS: The coffee’s made, just add cinnamon and flip the switch.

Fiona floated to Bella’s side and saw her face was the picture of shock, her eyes wide, her mouth had dropped open.

Fiona started giggling again. Really, she was hilarious.

Fiona glided behind her as Bella ran to the guest suite.

Grabbing her bag, she started digging. She pulled out an elegant, rich leather, designer travel purse, snapped it open and stared inside. Her brows drew together and her fingers sifted through its contents. Not locating her passport, her face grew pale and she started to shake the travel purse as if shaking it would make her passport magically float to the surface.

She gave up, dropped the travel purse and started digging in her bag. Then she started frantically digging through her bag. Then she dumped the contents of her bag on the couch and pawed through them.

Then she stood, face still pale, staring at the contents of her handbag scattered on the couch. Contents that no longer included her passport.

Her hands were clenched and Fiona bit her ghostly lip.

Fiona watched the expressions cross Bella’s face and Fiona knew Bella made the decision not to be anxious but instead to be angry when Bella unclenched her fists and her eyes flashed.

Fiona stopped biting her lip and grinned.

This was going to be good.

Then Bella snatched up her phone and dialed Prentice.

Fiona got as close to her as possible without getting into shivering distance.

With super-ghost hearing, she listened to their conversation.

“Elle,” Prentice said in greeting.

“Pren –” Bella started.

“You’re awake,” Prentice cut her off.

“Yes,” Bella said curtly. “Prentice, I can’t –”

He interrupted her again, “I’ll bring Sally home. We’ll leave in fifteen minutes. Be home soon.”

“Prentice, I –” Bella began but Prentice had rung off.

Bella took her phone from her ear and stared at it with that wide-eyed, mouth open look.

Fiona started giggling again.

Then she watched Bella dial again.

Fiona got close. Bella got voicemail.

Fiona started giggling (yes, again!).

Bella pressed a button with her thumb angrily and she threw her mobile on the couch.

Then she took a shower, got dressed and was in the great room, hair wet, face murderous, feet pacing when Prentice and Sally walked in.

“Elle!” Sally screeched the minute she saw her.

Fiona’s daughter ran direct to Bella, throwing her arms around Bella’s legs as if she hadn’t seen her in years rather than hours.

The anger in Bella’s face instantly melted away and it got that soft look it got every time Sally hugged her.

Fiona watched as Bella placed a hand to Sally’s hair.

Fiona really liked it when Bella touched Sally’s hair for, she suspected, Sally really liked it too.

Then Bella’s eyes drifted to Prentice as he got close and the soft look vanished.

She opened her mouth to speak but his hand shot out, fingers curling around the back of her head, he leaned into her over Sally, pulling her to him at the same time.

He kissed her, hard but fast.

Fiona could have done without seeing that.

Luckily, it was short.

With his hand still in her hair, faces close, he murmured, “Can you pick Jason up from school?”

Mutely, eyes glazed, lips parted, Bella nodded.

His hand slid to her jaw, his thumb stroking her cheekbone, his gaze roving her face, Fiona registered that he was pleased with what he saw.

Then he finished, “I’ll see you tonight.”

Then he let her go and he was gone.

Bella stared at the door.

Sally stared up from her place in front of Bella, her little arms still wrapped around Bella’s legs.

“Daddy just kissed you,” Sally breathed.

Bella’s head jerked down.

It was clear she had no idea how to deal with this. None whatsoever.

Clueless.

Fiona giggled again.

“Yes,” Bella croaked, her voice scratchy then she coughed to clear her throat.

“I think he likes you,” Sally whispered.

“I… uh… erm…” Bella stammered.

Suddenly, Sally let her go and skipped away, happy as a clam and onto a new topic, asking, “Can we have pancakes for lunch?”

Fiona watched Bella’s shoulders droop, why, Fiona didn’t know. Relief that she’d been saved from the Sally situation by Sally’s short attention span. Admitting defeat about the Prentice situation.

Whatever.

Thankfully, Bella didn’t make Sally pancakes. She made her grilled cheese with carrot sticks on the side.

It looked delicious.

Later, Bella picked up Jason and got the kids sorted. She was making dinner when Prentice called.

Fiona was floating with her arse over the stool next to the one her son was sitting on when the phone rang. She dematerialized and materialized close to Bella and listened in.

“Hello?” Bella greeted.

“Elle,” Prentice said, then didn’t wait for a response, “I’ll no’ be home for dinner.”

Bella’s head twitched when she heard his voice and with a darted glance at Jason at the counter and one to Sally laying on her back on the couch (playing, with difficulty but determination, one-handed with her new kitty), Bella started down the hall.

Fiona followed.

“Prentice –”

Prentice cut her off, “What are you making?”

Fiona watched Bella’s head jerk as she stopped outside the laundry room before she asked, sounding flummoxed, “Pardon?”