Divorced But Desired by the Mafia King
Her eyes sparkle as she gazes up at the balloons in my hands, and looks down to see my knee-length, rhinestone dress that floats from my waist like a cloud of cotton candy.
“Well, it isn’t every day Jayson turns 6,” I smile back at her. I never dress like this, preferring the practicality of a smartly tailored suit and the simplicity of a face clean of makeup, but Jayson always wanted me to be like “the other mommies,” who wore fancy jewelry and sparkling dresses.
“I thought I’d be a princess for him today.” I point at the tiara and glitter.