The Billionaire's Regret
The sea wind was stronger here, tugging at the hem of my dress, pressing the linen to my thigh for a second before letting go again.
I held the railing.
From below, Poppy shouted, “Mommy! I’m not running!”
I looked back.
She stood in place, both hands on her hips, Bunny hanging upside down, Barbie shoeless on the floor beside her. She was not running. Technically. But her whole body was bouncing like popcorn trapped under a pot lid.
“I’m proud in a limited capacity,” I called back.
“Me too!”
“That’s not a normal response!”
“I’m limited too!”