she’s made herself scarce. Creed, on the other hand, somehow got roped into an endless string of dinners and cocktail parties. I almost feel sorry for him.
When we pull into the driveway, I see a For Sale sign in the yard, and yank my sunglasses off to gape at it. What the hell?
Charlie’s sitting in his chair in the living room when I walk in, and he smiles as he looks up and sees us.
“What’s with the sign?” I ask, feeling this niggle of worry in my lower belly. Dad shrugs his shoulders loosely, but I can tell he’s stressed out about it. There’s a little ‘V’ of worry between his brows.
“The landlord wants to sell, and I can’t afford a down payment for a house right now. Don’t worry too much about it. The real estate agent let me know it’s likely to be purchased as an investment property, and having us as long-term tenants is a valuable asset.”
“What about the money in my—” I start, but Dad’s already shaking his head.
“There are six offers on the property already. Homes don’t come up often in Grenadine Heights. Don’t worry, honey. You save that money for college and stop worrying so much about your old man.” My mouth purses into a thin line. I wish he’d told me about this sooner. Or maybe the sign was in the yard when the tour bus dropped us off last night, and I just didn’t notice? I was so nervous about my Planned Parenthood appointment today, I easily could’ve overlooked it.
“I’ll never stop worrying about you,” I tell him, giving him a kiss on the forehead.
Miranda and I change and head out for the day, coming back to find a Sold placard stacked on top of the For Sale sign. We exchange a look, climbing out in the dark, and then jumping when a person stands up from the shadows of the porch. I’ve been meaning to change that bulb out …
“Marnye.” It’s Windsor, pushing red hair off of his forehead. He waits for me to pause next to him, and I notice he’s got a bulb in one hand and a screwdriver in the other. “I noticed you needed a light, love.”
“What are you doing here?” I ask, as I get my phone out to use as a flashlight, so he can see better. Miranda lets herself inside, giving us a moment of privacy. “And why are you sitting in the dark by yourself?”
“Just tired,” Windsor says, installing the bulb and flooding the porch with light. He turns to look at me, and I see it written all over his face, the dark lines of fatigue. He puts the screwdriver aside and then reaches into the pocket of his leather jacket, pulling out a folded wad of papers.
I take them from him, and squint at the fine print, glancing up suddenly.
“You bought our house?” I ask, blinking in shock.
“Just barely. There were quite a few other offers—and not all of them from pleasant or even neutral parties.” Windsor smiles at me, but it lacks some of his usual glitter. He’s exhausted. Whatever is going on behind the scenes, it’s wearing him down. And I don’t want that. I don’t want him working himself to the bone for me. “I just paid ten times what your house is worth.” Windsor laughs and scrubs a palm down his face. “Harper really, really wanted it.”
“You’re not going to raise the rent, are you?” I ask, but it’s just a joke. My heart is thundering in my chest, and I just … I want to hug him. So I do. I slide my arms around his waist, and give him a squeeze. He returns the gesture, and then places a ring of keys in my hand.
“Cash purchase, quick close. Money can buy … almost anything.” Windsor smiles and pulls away from me, heading down the driveway with his hands in his pockets. I consider following, but I get the idea that he wants to be alone. He pauses at the edge of the yard, waves at me, and then continues on toward the bus stop.
I still don’t get why he doesn’t drive.
In reality, I know nothing about the British prince, the bully of bullies.
But I want to.
I want to so damn badly.
The rest of the summer seems to crawl by in hot lazy days, buzzing cicadas, and as much time spent with Charlie that I can manage. The questions I have about Isabella, and the new