I said to the man in the doorway, a man who looked nothing like me. The Frog King stood just over six feet with sandy brown hair tinted gray at the tips. He wore an inexpensive linen suit and loafers with a small scuff on the toe. His chiseled face looked carved in stone. No expression, no happiness or joy at seeing his only son, a son he hadn’t bothered to see in over two years. “Jean-Michel.” The Frog King nodded in my direction. “You look... well.” “What are you doing here?” I asked, staring into his sapphire eyes. My eyes. The only feature we shared. Admittedly, I should’ve asked something like, “No wedding? What are you talking about?” but the shock of seeing my father, here, in Lollie’s shop after years of absence affected me more than I was willing to admit. The Frog King rarely left his castle, let alone ventured anywhere near his black sheep of a son. The Frog King cleared his throat. “May we speak in private?” “Of course, sir.” Karl quickly jumped to his feet.
