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“And then some. I’m not a fan of hangovers, or Ford’s afterparties.”
She arches a brow. “You mean there was more craziness after the ball?”
“Naked people everywhere the next morning.” I glance heavenward, because even talking about Ford Stryker requires a plea to the gods for patience. “He entertains guests almost every night. They drink, they have sex, they blast music. It’s amazing I’ve been able to sleep at all. Those walls must be soundproof.”
“That sounds…intense.”
“That’s putting it nicely, but he mostly leaves me alone, so I guess I can’t complain, all things considered.”
Because prior houses have shown me how worse it can get.
“Sounds like he’s different from the others.”
“So far, a good time is his only agenda. He’s strong-armed me into being his date for a party this Saturday.”
“That could be…fun?”
“I only agreed because he promised me a weekend with Sebastian if I accompany him.”
“Landon told me you were allowed to spend time with Sebastian this month.”
My eyes widen. “Sebastian told him?”
She shrugs. “Landon’s been spending more time with him since he came back last month.”
“Do you know where he went during his exile?”
“I heard him mention a cottage on the beach.”
My chest constricts, and Elise must notice the sudden brightness in my eyes because she sets her hand on my shoulder.
“Are you okay?”
Blinking back tears, I nod with a smile I don’t feel. “I know of the cottage. It’s just…memories. Really good ones.”
Her face softens. “You haven’t had many good experiences on this island.”
“No, but we’ve come this far, right?”
“We certainly have.”
I stand and hold out a hand. “How about we make this day shine by spoiling that baby like she—or he—deserves?”
“The baby boutique?”
“Absolutely.”
“Okay, but I’m putting a limit on your gift-giving spree.” With the first real grin I’ve spied on her face all day, she lets me pull her to her feet, and we head toward the shop, trying unsuccessfully to dodge the rain.
10
Apparently, formal attire isn’t required for the evening. Decked out in a pair of khakis and a maroon button-down shirt, Ford appears as relaxed and casual as ever.
“What are you drinking tonight?” he asks, already perusing the limo’s minibar, even though we’ve only been on the road for five minutes. “We’ve got scotch, vodka, whiskey, and champagne, sans the doctor’s magic, of course.” He winks at me.
“Seltzer water, please.”
Ford laughs, his deep rumble filling the neon-lit space. “You still don’t trust me, do you?”
