The Last Good Liar (Carolina Kisses #3) - Sylvie Stewart Page 0,77
nights I cried in Camille’s arms until I decided I wasn’t going to let anyone make me cry anymore.
And I anticipate his questions before he can even ask them, explaining that rich families don’t work the same as other families. That reputations trump human decency every time. That extended family is seen as either competition or a burden. That child protective services doesn’t exist for the wealthy. That children sometimes aren’t a blessing.
He listens, often unable to sit still on our spot in the sand. He intermittently stands and I can hear him pacing behind me until he gets control of himself and sits again, his jaw tense, his nostrils flared, but his eyes always warm on me.
When I’m done, I feel as if a grand piano has been lifted from my chest and I remember what breathing is supposed to feel like.
I know Ponch has more questions, but I’ve laid enough on him thus far to keep his brain busy for a good long while. I expect he’s figured out why I lied to him about working for William and Winona and why I’d want to cause them public humiliation after denying us the lease. But he’ll want to know my real reason for hiring a fake boyfriend in the first place. And that, I can’t tell him. Because I still don’t know what I’m going to do about Kitty Hawk, and I can’t have him trying to weigh in. If I’ve learned anything about Ponch so far, it’s a guarantee he’d never allow any woman to put herself in a dangerous situation like the one I’m considering. But he doesn’t know the lengths I’d go to for Camille. And he wouldn’t agree that it’s my choice, and mine alone, to make.
Ponch whistles long and low, liking what he sees. “Nice ride. Where have you been hiding this baby?” He circles the sleek black BMW to get the view from all sides, and I can’t help but roll my eyes at him.
“It’s a rental.”
“What? You mean you don’t have a car?”
I shrug in response. “I always just take one of Winona’s.”
In any other situation, I expect Ponch would say something to the effect of must be nice, but he’s treading lightly after what I will probably forever refer to in my mind as “The Beach Confessions: Andie Makes a Friend.”
After leaving the beach earlier, Ponch dropped me off at home so I could pack my shit for my move to Camille’s—but not before I did some reconnaissance to make sure my parents weren’t there. I didn’t take too much since I only need enough to tide me over until William and Winona leave town. They’ve got to be chomping at the bit to get the hell out of Wilmington, but they’re at the mercy of the Altmans and their schedule. With Kitty Hawk only four hours away, and with less than a week until Friday’s party and the following Monday’s deal closing, there’s no sense in them going anywhere just yet. But they’ll be on the first flight out after signing on the dotted line, and then I can take my time and be thorough about packing. Part of me worries Winona will do something crazy like sell all my dresses and light my room on fire if I’m not around this week, so I made sure to let her know I’m on board for the weekend. In other words, I lied.
Me: Whatever. See you Friday.
That should do the trick.
Then I caught an Uber to the car rental place and plonked down my black Amex for a sporty BMW that, even with its small trunk, can still carry three hundred times more than Ponch’s motorcycle. And, besides, if he doesn’t head home now, I’m calling this awesome family of his to come collect him. What must his girlfriend be thinking?
Nope. Not my business.
I pop the trunk and we each grab a bag to take up to Camille’s. Ponch insisted on meeting me back here to help me get my stuff upstairs, even though I told him I was perfectly capable of doing it on my own. There’s even an elevator to make the job a breeze. But he was hearing nothing of it. The thought has occurred to me more than once since last night that he’s treating me so nicely because he thinks I’m weak, and him being a strong man, it’s his job to protect the weak little girl. Just the idea makes me want to puke.