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She gestures toward me.
“You’re a billionaire gargoyle.”
“Apparently.”
“Who has been sitting on my balcony for a century.”
“Yes.”
“And I’ve been complaining to you about being broke.”
I fold my arms.
“You have been remarkably thorough in your complaints.”
She laughs harder.
I should be offended. I am offended. But I also find myself watching her. The way her eyes crinkle. The way her vibrant pink curls bounce when she laughs. The way she seems incapable of containing her amusement. She is joy personified.
She’s beautiful.
The realization arrives without warning, and with considerable force. I force my gaze away. Her being beautiful and my noticing is not relevant. Not remotely. I need April to break my curse.
That’s all. Nothing more.
When she finally stops laughing, she wipes her cheeks. “Okay. So you’re rich.”
“Yes.”
“And you want to buy the house.”
“Very much.”
She studies me. “Why?”
I look around. “Because it’s mine.”
“Was yours.”
I grit my teeth. “Yes. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
I take another breath. Then I lean forward. “April, I believe you can break my curse.”
Her expression grows serious. “Okay.”
“I don’t know how long it will take.”
“Right.”
“Or what will be required.”
She nods.
“But your touch has already accomplished something extraordinary.”
Her gaze drops to my hands. Then returns to my face.
