Glimpse of Paris
“Sleep well, Paris,” Prue crooned, tucking her little angle to bed.
“When is Daddy coming home?” Paris looked up, frowning.
“Soon,” Prue murmured, stroking Paris′ brown curls. She remembered that she'd forgotten to remove her glasses again.
"No," Paris said, stopping Prue from removing her special eye wear. "It's okay."
“Mommy, can you tell me a story?” little Paris piped up.
Prue looked at the bedside table where a number of books were carefully stashed from A-Z. “What book do you want?” she asked, her mind alreaddy on The Three Musketeers.
Paris touched the wedding band on Prue’s ring finger, his eyes looking bright. “I want to know how Daddy and you got happy ever after—and not those silly ever-afters I watch on TV.”
Prue blinked rapidly. “Okay?” she laughed, recovering from her three-year olds’ question. “But not tonight, when you get older.”
“Is that a promise, Mommy?”
“I promise, Paris.”