Page 19 of Heavy Crown

When I rise, my mother rises with me. “Alexander.”

“Look, Mother, if it makes you feel better, her visa is only good for one more year. I understand Derrick McGuinty lured her here with the promise of a marriage eventually. Obviously, that’s not going to happen now, so she’ll be going back to Canada in a year. Her time in the country is limited.” This time my sigh is real. “But none of that actually matters because I know my place and my commitment to the country comes above all else.” I ignore the dip in my stomach at the reminder of Rory’s ticking clock.

My mother searches my face for a beat longer than necessary before giving a curt nod and stepping out of my way.

Rory has been crying. I’m not sure what set her off, but the Bellerive National is on the bed when I collect her to view the apartment we have available. She won’t start in the kitchen until I’m back from my European tour. Dr. Bennett warned with a concussion like hers that she’ll need to take it easy—avoid screens, bright lights, listening to loud music, and reading.

I tuck the paper more firmly under my arm as I lead us to the apartments in the far-left corner of the estate. “You heard Dr. Bennett advise you against reading, correct?”

“I didn’t read it.” Rory’s tone is sullen. “I saw the pictures and… and it hit me, like really hit me for the first time, I could have died.” She tucks her hair behind her ears. “I almost died.”

I can’t deny the truth. Would the car have gone over the edge before the paramedics arrived, or did Kane and I disturb the car enough to cause it to shift? We’ll never know for sure.

“And then I started thinking about how I almost died because my boyfriend of two years—the reason I moved here, the reason I’ve been trapped in a shitty go-nowhere job—couldn’t keep his hands off his high-school sweetheart. He also had the nerve to say he was so happy I was alive and he couldn’t wait to get me home to take care of me.”

I eye her and take the newspaper out, flicking it open while we walk. “Thought you said you didn’t read it.”

Her blush starts at her chest and migrates up into her cheeks. “I might have skimmed it.” She glances up at me, and her chin juts out in defiance. “You left me alone for hours. What was I supposed to do?”

“Sleep, take a shower, contemplate what I look like naked—all suitable distractions. Any screens, music, reading, or staring into bright lights are not.”

“I did two out of those three things,” she says.

“Why didn’t you shower?” I feign confusion.

She shoves my shoulder while I speed read through the article. Derrick the Douche is quoted almost ten paragraphs in. I bet she didn’t skim it—I bet she read every last word.

“A shower and sleeping weren’t enough,” she clarifies. “I was bored.”

“Should have gone for option number three as well. I guarantee it would have met all your needs.” I waggle my eyebrows at her.

She gives a little laugh and then winces before touching her temple.

Up ahead, the apartment building looms. Not many of our employees live on the estate, but whenever someone runs into trouble with rent or splitting up with a partner, or some other life crisis, we often offer to house them for a while.

“These are the apartments?” Rory’s skepticism is clear.

“Funny looking, aren’t they?” I smile. “They were built at the start of the Spanish Flu to contain and quarantine any infected employees. Each apartment, regardless of the floor, has its own staircase and its own entry door. Nothing communal in the whole thing.”

“Lots of privacy.” A frown sits between her brows. “If it’s been here for over one hundred years…”

“My grandmother updated them about twenty years ago. So I’m not going to pretend the apartment is incredibly modern, but everything works, the rent is cheap, and your privacy is guaranteed.”

She takes in the building from the stone terrace. “No one minded that you were doing this for me?”

Her question is a minefield I’m not walking through. “Why don’t I show you the apartment?”

“I’m not going to say no, Alex. It could be a dungeon and I’d say yes. I have nowhere else to go, despite Derrick’s pretend devotion.”

I frown and glance toward the palace. “We do have a dungeon, if you’d prefer that,” I tease.

She laughs and then winces again.

“Your head’s bothering you?” I peer at her and try to remember when she last had some medication.

“Only when I laugh, so stop being funny.” She gives me a playful punch in the arm. “Which one is mine?”

“Around the back.” I lead her toward the right side of the building. “Ground floor.”