Annabelle scampered down the stairs, her curls flying wildly behind her as she searched for any place to hide from sight. It was her favorite game to play and she made her grandfather play it often. Her stocking feet silently slapped against the cold floorboards, making no sound as she hid behind the giant vase in the foyer. Her face was flushed with excitement, enjoying the freedom that she was allowed in her new home. Chloe had never allowed her to play inside, fearing for the priceless pieces of art that decorated the home. The young diva always claimed to have a headache that prevented her from playing with her daughter.

John's shoes made a heavy thud on the floor as he peered behind curtains and opened closet doors in his search. The older man hid a smile that threatened to spread his lips as he pretended that he could not find her. Her muffled giggles had given away her location long ago, but he played along to make her think that she was good at the game. It had been a long time since he had enjoyed the games of youth in his own home, as his work and responsibilities had kept him away from Brady and Belle. It was perfect with Annabelle, knowing that she was his to enjoy rather than parent.

"I'm going to find you," he said ominously, eliciting a fresh round of giggles. Quickening his pace, he rushed around the corner and knelt down beside the ornate Chinese vase. "Got you."

Annabelle squealed as she launched herself into her grandfather's arms, kissing his cheek affectionately. "Again?"

John smiled good naturedly, his eyes sparkling as he watched her smile up at him. "Maybe later," he said. "You've worn me and your dad out today. What do you say we go check on that soup we put on earlier? Lunch maybe?" He turned to the living room, laughing at the sight of his son. Brady had long since given up the battle and fallen into a deep sleep on the couch. His mismatched socks and faded jeans stood out against the cream colored material of the sofa.

Opening her mouth to speak, her words were overpowered by the sound of the door bell ringing. She wriggled her way out of his arms and ran for the door.

"See who it is first," John said as he pulled himself up from the floor. Before he could even make it, he could hear his granddaughter asking a stranger about her identity. Making his way to the door, he stopped short upon recognizing the woman standing there. She looked more mature than the last time he had seen her, but the soft way her hair framed her face and way she carried herself were the same. "Nicole."

"Good afternoon, Mr. Black," she said softly as she smiled down at the child. "I'm sorry to disturb you, but I left something in Brady's car. I was hoping that I could get it."

"Daddy's asleep," the child told her. "When were you in my daddy's car?"

John placed his hand on his granddaughter's shoulder, silently praying that the child would not say too much. "I'll get the keys for you. Would you like to come in and wait?"

Nicole looked hesitant, but the older man had left her no choice but to enter the penthouse. Eyeing the young girl warily, Nicole stepped inside and smiled. "You must be Annabelle," she said softly. "You look like your father."

"I am just like him," she answered. "Granddad says that I act like him and am just as stubborn." Angling her head to the side, she looked thoughtful. "What's stubborn?"

Nicole bit back a laugh as she began to relax a little. She should have known that Brady's daughter would have that same charm and charisma that settled her. "Well, it means that you like to do things your way. You probably don't like people to tell you what to do."

"I like to be in charge," the little imp of girl admitted. Curious, she picked up the woman's hand. "You have pretty nail polish. I like pink."

"Me too," Nicole said, sliding her foot out of her heels. "See. I even use it on my toes." She wiggled her toes for the child to see.

"Oooohhhh, pretty. I want some polish just like that." Annabelle let her eyes roam across the woman's long legs and softly colored skirt. "You're real pretty."

"Thank you," Nicole told her sincerely. "You're just beautiful." Wistfully, she regarded the child's curls and rosy cheeks. This was exactly the child she had imagined as Brady's own. It made her stomach clench to think that Chloe had essentially abandoned the young girl. It seemed unfair that the diva could turn her back like that when women like Nicole would have killed to have become mothers.

"No," Annabelle said sadly, staring back at the couch where her father slept. "Mommy's beautiful. I look more like my daddy." There was a tangible sadness about the way the child lamented her mother's beauty.

Bending down to the child's level, Nicole brushed aside the curls on her head. "No," she stated firmly. "You are beautiful. Your daddy is very lucky to have a little girl like you in his life."

"Yes, I am," Brady said from the doorway. His blonde hair stood on end and his clothes were wrinkled from the impromptu nap he had been taking. "You're here about the file?" Reaching over toward the small table against the wall, he fished it out from under the stack of newspapers. "Here."

Nicole gratefully accepted the papers, running her hands across them softly. "I went to do some work this weekend and couldn't find them. You can imagine my panic." Her usually forceful tone had turned quiet and shaky with him staring at her. His grogginess made his eyes seemed even sharper and more focused than before.

"No problem," he told her with his eyebrow raised. "I see you met Annie."

Nicole smiled at the child and then back to Brady. "Yes, I did. She's the spitting image of you and I would assume just as much trouble too." Winking at Annabelle, she shared a quick giggle.

"I don't know about that," Brady laughed. "I was never as much trouble as she is. I ate my vegetables, cleaned my room…"

"Oh, I'm sure you were a saint," Nicole said, shooting him a threatening look. She knew too well about all the sides to Brady.

"We were about to have a little soup and some sandwiches for lunch. You are welcome to join us." He looked a bit hesitant, unsure why he'd just let those words fall from his mouth. Nicole was the type of woman who liked caviar and champagne, not tomato soup and grilled cheese.

"Oh please?" Annabelle begged, wrapping her own fingers around Nicole's hand in an attempt to drag her into the other room. "You could paint my nails?"

Letting out a shaky laugh, Nicole let herself be led into the dining room, smiling ruefully at a perplexed John. He was obviously startled to see that she was still there. Quickly, he covered, throwing down an extra plate and bowl. "Glad to see we have company."

"Isn't she pretty, Grandpa John," Annabelle said as she ran after her grandfather. "She's got pretty toes and fingers."

Brady laughed nervously, pulling out Nicole's chair for her. Just the simple brush of his fingers on her shoulders made him almost jump from the jolt of electricity. "She has this thing about nails right now," he told her apologetically. "I think it has to do with not having a woman around the house."

"It's quite alright," Nicole assured him, taking a sip from the soda that John had poured. "She's an adorable child."

"She's my life," Brady admitted as he stared at the closed door to the kitchen. "After everything that has gone wrong, Chloe, the tabloids, everything, she's the one thing that's real. I'm very lucky. I just sometimes wish…" His words lost their punch as he realized that he had almost said too much.

"What do you wish?" Nicole asked softly.

Brady quickly shook his head, dislodging the thoughts in his head. He knew that Nicole did not want to hear how he wished his life had turned out. No good would come from telling her about the ring that he had carried around for the entire month before Chloe had come back or his plans to marry her. She would not react well to his dark thoughts that he wished it had been her that was the mother of his child, not Chloe. There was no way that it would help at all. "I just wish that Annie was lucky enough to have a mother who loved her."

Nicole nodded thoughtfully, staring at the closed door as if it would open any second. "Maybe someday she will," she said suddenly. "You could meet someone and get married again. You're still young." She immediately felt the acid in her stomach churn at the mere thought of him getting married again.

"I don't know about that," Brady said in a whisper as his father and daughter reentered the room. "I think I'm pretty unlucky in love. Maybe I should just face facts and remain single."

XXXXX

Brady cracked the door a bit to peak in at his daughter, expecting to find her fast asleep in the middle of the pink room that John had specifically ordered for his only grandchild. He was surprised to find her sitting up in the bed, a book spread across her lap. Her freshly painted fingernail pointed to each word that she was trying fervently to sound out. "Hey Annie," he said affectionately as he took a seat on the edge of the bed. "I thought I told you lights out."

She looked at him pleadingly, her blue eyes as big as saucers. "Just five more minutes, daddy. Please." Looking remarkably like Belle, she was impossible to resist.

Brady pulled the book from her hands, smiling as he recognized the familiar pictures and words of one of his favorite fairy tales. "Why don't I read it to you?" he asked, remembering the number of times that he and Belle had read the very same book. It was his little sister's favorite too, filled with enough adventure for him and enough romance for her. "I used to read it to my sister all the time It was her favorite during any thunder storm."

Annabelle agreed readily, snuggling up in her father's lap for the story. She stayed wide eyed and enthralled through the whole thing, asking questions and begging him to read sections again. Finally, she settled back down and listened to the famous line that ends all fairy tales.

"And they lived happily ever after," Brady said as he snapped the book shut. "Are you ready for lights out now?"

She looked to ponder the thought for a moment, dreading the answer she was expected to give. "Daddy? Are you ever going to find me a new mommy?"

Brady felt the jolted realization of surprise, his face blanching at the question. "I thought we were doing fine here, just me, you, and grandpa John?" He immediately cursed Chloe in his head, hating that his daughter was longing for a mother as flippant about her responsibilities as his former wife.

"We are," the child assured him. "I just thought that you'd be happier with a wife. Maybe Miss Nicole would marry you?"

Brady recognized the familiar twinkle in his daughter's eyes, having seen Belle give him those same looks whenever she wanted anything. "Why do you think that I should marry Nicole?" Brady asked as he tucked her in.

"Daddy?" she said in an exasperated tone. "She's beautiful and fun and smart and wears pretty nail polish." Wiggling her fingers back at her father, she showed him the manicure that Nicole had given her. "See?"

"All of those things are important," Brady agreed. "But there are other things too. If…and I mean if…I ever get married again it has to be to a woman who loves both of us. She'd have to be a very special woman to be a part of our lives." Inside, he couldn't help but think that Nicole would fit that bill too.