When I looked at Henry Smith, his good-looking face really stood out—that sharp brow line gave him this natural air of arrogance and cold dominance. His sharp gaze swept across my face a couple of times before he said, “So you clearly didn’t take what I said the other day seriously.”
"Uncle, you know Aunt Sophie too?"
Before I could even say anything, Evan Smith, who was holding Henry’s hand, suddenly piped up, broke free from his dad’s grip and rushed over to grab my hand.
Seeing this sweet little guy just melted my mood in an instant. I smiled, pulling out the signed football by Mesut Özil. “Happy birthday, Evan.”
Özil was Henry’s favorite football player.
I wasn’t even sure why, but I had a hunch Evan might like football too. When I saw someone reselling the signed ball
