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“I know who she is,” I reply calmly, opening the refrigerator and pulling two cold beers out, handing one to a consternated-looking Fitzy.
“Does Izzy know? Does Gulliver know?”
“No. But it’s not what you think. Penelope is the reason the will is broken.”
“It’s not what I think?” he whisper-shrieks. “I think you’re sleeping with the enemy.”
“She’s not the enemy, at least not anymore. She fixed everything, Izzy’s free, and the Rhodes are gone.”
“And Penelope did that?” he asks slowly.
“Yes, she did it to save them both. Now their parents have gone overseas and they’ve banned Penelope from the house, and she literally has nothing. No clothes, none of her things, nothing. Izzy and Gulliver asked her to move in with them, but she’s got so many walls built up around herself she’s practically living in a fucking metal-spiked maze. But she’s…” I trail off, unsure how to explain her and this thing between us.
“Hmm,” Fitzy says, his eyes narrowing as he assesses me.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing,” he says with an unnerving smile. “Did you mention you were cooking? I’m starving. And for goodness’ sake, Hawthorn, go and put some clothes on.”
Laughing, I excuse myself for a second and walk into the bedroom, glancing at the closed bathroom door as I pull on some sweatpants and lay out one of my button-downs and a hairbrush on the bed for Princess. I’m a little too eager to see her in my clothes again, or maybe it’s knowing she’ll only be wearing my shirt that’s got me riled up.
Retreating back to the kitchen, I find Fitzy hauling a rail of clothes across the deck. “How the hell did you get that up the gangplank?” I yell, pulling more things from the refrigerator and adding them to the pile I started earlier, before Princess and I skipped to dessert.
“Just because I’m a stylist and fabulous, that doesn’t make me incapable of a little manual labor,” he says, rolling his eyes dramatically.
Smirking, I laugh as I grab a chopping board and start to dice the veggies for a quick stir-fry. Pouring some oil into a wok, I throw the veggies and some chicken into the pan, then add the satay sauce I made this morning and left in the refrigerator. Within minutes, the deep peanut aroma fills the air, and my stomach growls.
When the sound of the shower abruptly stops, I turn my head toward the bedroom and swallow thickly.
“Oh, this is fun,” Fitzy says, winking playfully at me from the seat he’s taken at the kitchen island.
“Shut up,” I scold him, refocusing my attention on the food cooking in the pan. If Fitzy wasn’t here, I’d have abandoned dinner and been in there with her, licking the droplets of water from her naked body before I got her all dirty again.
When the food is ready, I split it between three plates, grab silverware for all of us and a bottle of sparkling water for Princess, then move it all to the island, sliding Fitzy’s plate in front of him. Turning, I look toward the bedroom, expecting her to appear, but the door remains shut, and for a moment I panic that she’s run again. “I’ll go fetch her,” I say, scowling at a still-smirking Fitzy.
Crossing the galley to my bedroom, I consider knocking, but if she’s naked, I don’t want to give her a chance to cover up her beautiful body. Pushing the door open, I step into the room and find her sitting on the end of the bed wearing my shirt, her hair twisted into a braid that’s fallen over her shoulder and made the cotton of my shirt almost transparent beneath it. She looks so fucking young and scared.
“You, okay?” I ask.
She nods, but it’s not exactly convincing.
“Want to try that again? Are you okay?”
“I’m trying to convince myself to run,” she says, shocking the hell out of me with her honesty.
“I figured as much,” I say, sitting down next to her.
“What are we doing?” she asks, her eyes begging me to explain. But the problem is I’m as clueless as she is.
“No fucking clue, but I don’t plan to stop.”
“Tell me what to do, Hawthorn,” she begs, tears filling her eyes. “I don’t understand any of this, and I just need someone to tell me what to do, because you think I’m this princess, but I’m not. I don’t know how to be anything other than what they told me to be.”
Our eyes lock, and for the very first time, I feel like I might be starting to understand the girl next to me. So, I nod, lift my hand, and pinch her chin between my thumb and forefinger. “Come eat dinner, then let Fitzy help you.”
Docilly, she nods, mouthing “Thank you” to me, before she pushes to her feet and follows me out of the room.
“Goodness me, I thought your sister was petite, but you’re so beautiful and so tiny,” Fitzy gushes as Penelope follows me into the kitchen.
