The Princess and The Jester - A.D. McCammon Page 0,16
and it isn’t something I ever want to experience again.
“Oh my god,” she says. “That’s seriously disturbing.”
“Come hang out with me today. I could use a friend, and Arwen is apparently busy.”
Arwen ignored my call earlier, something she’s been doing a lot lately. I’ve suspected something was going on with her and Aidan Shaw ever since he posted that cryptic photo on Instagram, but it’s blatantly obvious at this point. She’s been suspiciously absent with no explanation of where she’s going or who she’s going with. And every time I bring up the golden boy of Westbrook, she gets all antsy. Arwen should know better than to hide things from me, but I can’t figure out why she’s being all cloak-and-dagger about it.
“You’re not going to take no for an answer, are you?”
“You know me so well, Saint.”
“Fine.” She groans. “Send me the address.”
Violet’s wide eyes roam as she follows me through the house. “Umm, you didn’t tell me you were staying in a mansion. This place is insane.”
Her reaction doesn’t surprise me. Neither of us come from families with money—unlike most of the kids in this town—but seeing the way the rich live is new for her. Violet always jokes about Arwen’s closet being the size of her bedroom and getting lost in Thatcher’s house. The Rhodes estate must be overwhelming.
I hook an arm around her shoulders, steering her into the kitchen. “It’s nothing special.”
She gasps once we’re inside, walking out of my hold. Her hand glides over the sleek, white marble countertops as she explores. “Are you kidding? This kitchen is like a dream.”
Violet looks like a kid in a candy store, awe lighting up her pretty face, and a smile tugs at my lips. This is why I asked her to come here. She’s the only person I know who enjoys cooking as much as I do. We both learned as kids out of necessity. She wanted to make sure her parents had a warm meal waiting for them after work, and I wanted to help my mother with her responsibilities here.
“Would you believe they never use it? It’s such a shame to let it go to waste. I thought we could put it to good use today.”
The kitchen is stocked with everything we need to cook or bake just about anything we want. They must’ve had their housekeeper bring everything while I was at work. This place was nearly bare when I made breakfast yesterday.
“Seriously? Gwen’s parents won’t mind?”
“They’ll be gone all day. We have the place to ourselves and won’t be bothering anyone. Besides, I’m sure they’ll be thrilled to have some real food in the house.”
She squeals with excitement, wrapping her arms around me.
Laughter and conversation easily flow between us while we work on the raspberry white chocolate cheesecake—another one of Gwen’s favorites. It helps melt away some of the frustration built up in me from this morning. But by the time it’s in the oven and we’re working on Saint’s grandfather’s chicken fettucine recipe, she starts asking the inevitable questions.
“How do you know Gwen’s family anyway?”
Her question rebuilds the unease in my muscles, and I move to the refrigerator before answering. “I kind of grew up here.”
“Wait. This is where your mom worked?”
When Violet and I became friends, she assumed my family’s status was the same as our friends. Until I explained the circumstances that brought us to Westbrook. Part of them, anyway.
“Yep, this is the place. That’s how I ended up back here, since my mom is away.”
“Wow. I didn’t think you even knew Gwen.”
My stomach churns as I turn back to meet her probing baby blues. Discussing the Gwen situation with Violet is the last thing I want to do, but lying to her would make me a total hypocrite.
“We know each other very well,” I answer honestly, and Violet’s eyebrows bounce with interest. “But knowing someone and liking them are two different things.”
Her lips twist with disappointment, head cocking to one side. “I didn’t think any girl could resist your charms.”
“They can’t.” One side of my mouth pulls into a lopsided grin as I wink at her, and she rolls her eyes with a dramatic flair that’s contradicted by the tint on her cheeks. “I simply choose not to waste them on the spoiled princess.”
Violet offers a nod before returning her attention back to the broccoli she’s chopping. “Doesn’t that make the situation a little awkward, though? What does she say about you being here?”