Billy & The Beast (Ever After, New York #3) - Eli Easton Page 0,42

AC was much preferable to the out of doors. Billy cut veggies for a salad while I tried my hand at a meat sauce for the pasta and Jack stared at the ground beef wrapper, plotting theft.

It was an ordinary, domestic scene of the type I was becoming addicted to. Since telling Billy about the car accident a month ago, and confessing my terrible secret—my culpability in the deaths of two innocent people—we’d grown closer, inexplicably bound together, like a rope that tightens the more you tug.

I’d tried to scare him off. I’d tried to show him he was mistaken to romanticize me or feel any affection for me, beastly creature that I was. He’d seen my scars. He knew about that awful night. And yet, each reveal had only brought him nearer to me.

In the past, I’d always found that the more I learned about someone, the less I liked them. What’s the saying? Familiarity breeds contempt. But not with Billy. Somehow we fit together. And the more we opened up, the more we showed each other who we truly were, the more secure that fit became.

Billy put down the knife and fetched something from one of his bike bags in the corner. He brought it over and held it out. He definitely looked nervous now.

I took it. It was a brochure for a sailing company on the Hudson River. Want and dread warred in my heart. “What . . . ?”

“It’s in Kingston, only an hour away. I figured if we went on a weekday, and got there early, there wouldn’t be many people around. I could go in and take care of all the paperwork and stuff. All you’d need to do is move from the car to the boat. And you know, sail it. ’Cause I have no idea how to do that. You said sailing was one of your favorite things, so I thought you might enjoy it. Last chance before fall. You know?”

I looked up at his hopeful expression.

Oh, this was a terrible idea. What if someone saw me? Took photos? I could just see the images splashed across the tabloids. Me in my mask and gloves, cavorting on a sailboat. montgomery heir resurfaces looking like frankenstein.

But what if I wore a hat and sunglasses? No one knew what I looked like now. No one knew I had a mask. And why would any paparazzi be in Kingston, New York? It wasn’t exactly a celebrity hangout. Also, a rental sailboat was unlikely to be big or flashy enough to attract notice. It wasn’t like I was going out on a yacht in Cannes.

Could I even sail a boat again? Was I up to it? It took balance, flexibility, strength.

I was crazy for even considering this.

“We could go out for just a few hours,” Billy shrugged, trying to sound casual. “I asked the guy at the boat rental how crowded it was there, and he said it’s usually really slow on weekdays until noon or so. If we go early, we could be back in the car by eleven. And this rental shop is on the south end of town, so we don’t even need to go to the main harbor.”

He’d put a lot of thought into this. Had he Googled how to take your disfigured boyfriend out on a discreet cruise?

And, God, what if I could get away with it? The idea of being on a sailboat again gave me a fluttery sense of anticipation. Joy. I hadn’t stepped foot outside the gates of Malfleur in a year. There had been days when I thought I never would.

Did I dare to now?

Billy stepped closer to me and put his arms around my waist, his gaze steady, encouraging. “I promise, it’ll be super casual.”

I hummed. “I suppose we could drive over there and check it out,” I said. “See if it looks private enough.” Safe.

Billy’s smile was off the charts.

A week later, on a Wednesday, we rented a Hunter 326 sailboat. We were out on the water by 8:00 a.m.

Just as Billy had promised, the boat rental place was on the southern end of town, in an area of docks and a few factories. Once out on the water, we only saw one fishing boat in the distance, plus a two-man crew team out for their morning row.

I was well covered up, wearing a sun hat with a wide brim, my mask, a windbreaker, and long pants. A nagging voice in my head continued to