Chapter 53

Looking up from my laptop, the tall, lanky, pre-teen my favorite guy had turned into, stood in front of me. At nine years old, Cash was almost my height and had those steely grey eyes. It wasn't the grey that was so unnerving, but rather the thick black ring that surrounded them. His dark hair was a romantic complement to his olive skin tone. He was such a pensive child but well-liked by others his age and very involved in school activities.

Hayden would never admit it, but I'd done him a favor not letting him look like a preppy twit as a baby. She might argue I'd created his image, but it suited his personality. He was the edgy, broody, silent type-the Doc Martens, spiked hair, and dark clothes were just who he was. Pinstripes would've had him in headlocks by the time he was four.