“Yeah.” She worked the cream between her fingers, still smiling. “The way Marcel talked about her in his letters. How he trusted her with everything, and she argued with him, but always backed him up.”
“Marcel was married.” I sat on the edge of the sofa across from her, inspecting the bottom of the little table next to the window, so I could lower it and extend the sofa. There was only five feet between us, maybe less. The compartment was too small for real distance. “And his wife was pregnant.”
“I know.” Her smile dimmed. “It kind of sounds like a wartime romance, but the cheating thing’s a no-go. At least—” She waved her hand. “In the novels I read, it’s not a thing.”
Cheating.The word landed harder than it should have. Carissa’s face flickered through my mind as I found the catch under the table and it lowered with a sudden thunk.
Would Grace be the loyal kind? The kind who stayed through the hard times?
Don’t think about that, Garrett. She’s not yours.
“You said your mom read Regency historical romance. Did she like any other time periods? Medieval? Viking?”
I pulled out my phone. I didn’t choose to stay in this room for conversations about my mother or ones that reminded me of my ex. “I should check in with Arthur.”
“Garrett—”
I was already dialing. “Give me a minute.”
Arthur picked up. “Impatient, are we?”
“Yeah. What’s the status for Prague?” I stood, and despite there only being eight feet of floor space to pace toward the door, I paced.
“Good news. I secured four Pendragon operators who are native to Prague. They’re all cleared for close protection andhave their weapons licenses. We’ll have two with us at all times, rotating shifts. Also, I booked the hotel my father uses when he’s there. Security’s solid. And it’s discreet.”
“Send me their details?”
He grunted a laugh. “As soon as we’re off the phone.”
I stared at the control panel by the door. How many different colors would the lights turn if I fiddled with it? “Did I send you the train information?”
“Galahad,” he said on an exasperated breath, “get some sleep and trust me to coordinate things, would you?”
I needed more to say, but didn’t have anything. “Thanks.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I ended the call, paced back to my bag, and tossed my phone into it.
Grace’s dreamy face was gone, replaced by an uncharacteristic frown. “You don’t like talking about your mother.”
“No.” I should have asked Arthur about the jet. Or the hotel name. Or anything to prolong the call and avoid talking to Grace.
“Okay.” Her hands had stilled in her lap, the lotion absorbed, but the scent flooded the room. “What about your father? You’ve never mentioned him.”
Questions about my father normally had me leaving the room or telling the asker to fuck right off. Neither of those was an option at the moment, so I paced back to the control panel and jabbed at a button that turned the light red. Red? I didn’t want red. That was practically porno lighting.
“Is he why you don’t drink?”
“Grace,” I all but growled. “Drop it.”
She sucked in a quick breath, and I turned to see all the softness in her face vanish. The dreamy warmth from Henri’s stories had drained away, and the grief that kept surfacing when she thought about Didi was crawling back in.
Nice work, Garrett. You fucking asshole.
“You know, I’ve asked you a few times if your protection details are normally like this, and you keep saying this is normal.” She met my eyes. “Is it still true? After everything we’ve been through?”
No. Not even fucking close.“Yes.”
