Her breath catches, eyes filling with tears. She sees it now—my choice is already made.
“We’ve got bigger obstacles than most, but I love you. Whatever it takes to protect Preston, we’ll do it.”
“Even if I go to jail?” she says, almost a whisper.
“You won’t,” I assure her.
“Kidnapping is a crime.”
“So is abuse. Locking Preston up, cutting you off—that’s abuse. Emotional, physical. All of it.”
The way she’s staring at me, her breaths shallow, her fear is palpable. I want nothing more than to take that away and replace it with safety and comfort and joy. “She’s untouchable… She has money. Power.”
“So do I, Tinker Bell.” I look into her eyes, steady and sure. “And I’ll use every bit of it to protect you if they ever try to accuse you of anything other than being a loving sister.”
Nodding, tears in her eyes, she exhales heavily and leans against my chest. I hold her close, praying it doesn’t come to that.
40
Charlotte
We’ve lived in unaware bliss here in Provence all week, but the familiar ache of uncertainty sits like a weight on my chest. I’ve lain by the pool all day, my tan now one that only the sun of the Mediterranean can make. Seeing Preston laughing and swimming and roughhousing with Sutton in the water has been good for my soul. Reminds me of why I’ve done what I’ve done. Am I in the wrong for taking him? I don’t think so. Even though legally it probably wasn’t right, it was right for him. If he was happy at home, I would’ve gone on to life after college. I would’ve left him, traveled, gotten a job somewhere else, and just lived how any other woman my age lives.
But that wasn’t his story, so it wasn’t mine.
My thoughts are interrupted by the garden sprinklers. They come on every day at this time like clockwork. The lawn is vast and green, the jets of water spouting from the ground covering every inch, including the decadent garden beds that are full of lush roses.
Sutton’s cell chimes like it has all week. For the most part, he’s ignored it. Looking at the screen, he answers it, talking in low tones. He’s trying to prolong the inevitable, but I'm a realist. I might want him to be my forever, but Maribel taught me to never wish for that.
“Whispers is inundated.” He throws his cell on the lounge chair next to mine, coming to sit near me, Preston now bobbing and swimming, having a great time on his own.
My stomach sinks. “Oh no.” I frown, thinking of poor Rochelle and everyone and the mess we left behind.
“It's a good thing, apparently.”
That has me rearing back. “What?”
“Sawyer tells me Rochelle is doing a roaring trade. The bed-and-breakfasts in town have tripled their prices and the out-of-towners are paying. The distillery is going gangbusters. Local shops are doing well. Sawyer says Annabelle has been selling out of soaps. Peter had to put on an extra driver for his taxis, and the Whiteman’s Bar is full every night. The only people upset are all the billionaires up on Billionaire Boulevard. But the sheriff has blocked off the road to residents only. So they all get to keep their privacy. Besides, I know most of them, so they’ll get over it.”
“Wow,” is all I can say, completely awed. But it makes sense; the media have to stay and eat somewhere. I just didn’t account for the positive effect it would have on the local economy.
“And even better news: Griffin and his team are almost finished on the house. He has three crews there now to try to get it done by the time we get back, or at least soon after that. They’re working around the clock.” He pauses for a moment, both of us sharing a smile. “Rochelle says she misses you, though.”
“I miss her.” I miss the small town that took me in, gave me a safe haven, and loved Preston and me as if we were one of their own.
“I miss her pies…” Sutton says, looking grim, and I laugh.
“There’s more to her than just pies.”
“I know. She’s a hell of a woman,” Sutton agrees.
“She reminds me of my mom. All kindhearted, warm, nurturing. She makes me feel connected.”
“It’s nice that you have her. I think she loves you just as much.”
Sutton goes silent, his mind elsewhere for a moment, looking suddenly melancholy.
“You alright?” I reach out, grabbing his hand.
