Enemy's Secret - Ashlee Price Page 0,59

laugh with a shrug. "Don't know - you tell me."

Under the table, he squeezes my hand. "We did."

Looking over my shoulder, he laughs.

I follow his gaze, and my jaw drops when I see what's on Madison's plate.

"Oh no you don't," I tell her, moving to intercept her.

A few steps away from our table, clutching her plate to her chest in a protective stance, Madison stops, eyeing me balefully. "But Mom, there were only five left. I had to make sure everyone got one."

Hands on my hips, I ask, "Oh really?"

She bobs her head. "Really." Picking up the first croissant, she hands it to Harley. Then the next to Greyson.

By this point, we're all chuckling.

An hour or so later, we've got our Disney-ready clothes on and our full-but-not-too-full-and-no-outside-food bags packed.

The day gets off to something of a rocky start, which is mainly my fault.

Who would've figured that the lines would be horrendous at freaking 9:15 AM? Or that the skip-the-line passes would happen to be sold out too?

OK, I might've guessed the second part, but still. That doesn't make it less shitty.

A few hours later, we're roasting under the merciless noontime sun and Madison has actually started nodding off by the statue where we've been waiting for a good half hour, when Landon turns to me, waving two passes. "I don't want to beat a dead horse. But Nolan and Emerson definitely won't be needing these."

"Fine," I snap, grabbing them. "Let's just go."

The rest of the day goes smoother. In the time it took us to almost go on one ride, we manage to go on five and get food. Yes, the rest of the day is a whirlwind: rides, more rides, ketchup-laden French fries, a window-sized white chocolate cookie, even more rides. Madison's face-wide grin is the only thing that remains constant as we hit up Space Mountain, the Pirates of the Caribbean, It's a Small World, the Haunted House...

That, and how damn good Landon is with her. Maybe since he's a giant kid himself: lifting his hands up on the roller coasters, pointing out all the coolest things to check out on the rides themselves.

Or it could be that I'm biased because he's so damn gorgeous. He can make a pair of dark wash Levi's and a red t-shirt look like an Abercrombie and Fitch ad.

Dinner that night is at Be My Guest, the Beauty and the Beast-themed restaurant that is way more elegant than I expected. Hearing the name, I expected a campy, toy-laden ode to the Disney classic. Instead, I got glamor that I'd expect more in some upscale adults-only thousand-dollar-a-night resort.

Cherrywood claw-legged table... Gilt ironwork chair... Vast overhead painting of the night sky... Golden chandeliers glittering with flames... A beaming Mickey-hatted Maddy on one side of me... A grinning Landon on the other...

Is this a fairytale?

Or is it a perfect shimmery bubble - destined to be popped?

Even the waiters have smiles so genuine that they make you want to smile too.

"Would you be having the His and Hers Spousal Special?" our red-head waiter asks me and Landon.

"Oh, we're not..." I begin.

"Yes, they are!" Maddy declares delightedly.

"I'll just have steak," I say firmly.

"Me too," Landon agrees, with a sidelong look at me that could mean anything.

After the waiter has left and Maddy has gone to the bathroom - insisting on going by herself - I turn to Landon. "Sorry about that."

He just chuckles. "Don't be."

Under the table, he squeezes my hand again, and this time he doesn't let it go.

The warmth of his hand goes right through me. It sends a fluttery feeling through me, one that makes me want to tap my toes along to the peppy song the small orchestra's playing in the far corner, or just grin like an idiot at nothing at all.

Maybe this is the 'Disney Magic' they talk about? The one I dismissed as a marketing ploy, or a park goer's hollow praise.

Whatever it is, it's really gone to my head. That, or the $500 bottle of wine Landon insisted on getting us.

It's making me feel like anything is possible. Like Landon is here for good. Like him and me, no matter our differences, can actually work. Like I could tell him right now.

"Landon," I say suddenly.

Because - screw it - I should tell him. Screw playing it safe. He's here now, with us, he's proven himself half a dozen times. Maybe this isn't the right time, but the truth is, there never will be a right time.

"Yeah?" he says.

His phone