PRETEND PRINCESS
Creed disappeared for a moment and returned with something in his hand—an old leather photo album.
"I need to show you something," he said, sitting beside me on the velvet couch.
The album creaked open, and I saw pictures of a childhood both familiar and not. There were his brothers—wrestling, building forts, stealing cookies. Then his sister, small and sweet-looking, always being held by somebody.
"She was the cute one," Creed said, knocking on a photo. "They all spoiled her rotten. Even me."
"She looks like sunshine," I breathed.
He half-smiled. "Yeah."