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Should I go find his mother? See how her morning is going and if there's anything she needs?
Or is it acceptable to get a cup of the coffee I smell brewing to take the edge off first?
Considering I collapsed under a pile of her dogs last night, she probably wouldn't judge me too harshly for needing a little added caffeine, so I creep into the kitchen, stopping short when I see it is already occupied.
Nicholas smiles at me, his creased face full of warmth and kindness. "Good morning, Miss Valerie." He stacks a cup of coffee onto a beautiful, floral embossed tray. "I’m just about to bring Helena her breakfast. Would you care to eat with her this morning?"
My stomach growls because violence must also work up an appetite. "I can make myself something. I don't want to put you out—"
Nicholas holds one hand up. "It's not putting me out at all." He uses the same hand to motion toward the sitting room where Fynn’s mother spends most of her day. "Helena is outside on the terrace. I'm sure she would love to have company while I finish up."
"There's a terrace?" I sound impressed because I am. I didn't grow up poor—my father’s good enough at what he does to earn a substantial income—but this penthouse is next level.
Next, next level.
And I’m desperate to see the terrace. I still hesitate, even though spending time with Fynn’s mother is the whole reason I’m up. It just feels wrong for me to sit around while someone else waits on me, so I motion to the tray Nicholas is now loading with a second cup of coffee. "Can I take that with me? Save you a trip?"
He gives me a wide smile as he lifts the tray, holding it out between us. "I would appreciate that. Thank you."
I take the tray, feeling warm and fuzzy inside because of how kind he’s being to me. "You're welcome. I'm happy to help any way I can."
I'm not used to gratitude. I lived for so long with people who demanded what they wanted from me and expected nothing less. It would never have occurred to my father—or my mother—to be grateful to me for anything. They found no pride in the fact that I graduated at the top of my class. Could have cared less when I managed to complete a double major in four years. Gave zero shits that I never missed curfew, never snuck out, and never talked back.
So Nicholas's appreciation and thanks feeds that withered little bit of me that was and is so desperate for validation. I know I shouldn't care what anyone thinks. I know I should only live for myself. That's just not who I am. And for the first time in my life, I'm okay with that.
Taking the tray, I carefully balance the cups and spoons as I move in the direction Nicholas gestured, passing through the sitting room on my way to the floor-to-ceiling windows that, upon closer inspection, aren’t windows at all. They’re doors.
Shifting the tray to one hand, I twist the levered handle and carefully make my way outside. The railed space directly on the other side of the windows is narrow, likely to avoid obscuring the view, but as I turn to my left, it opens up into a spacious expanse of tropical greenery that has my jaw-dropping.
The sound of the ocean carries up on the breeze as I make my way to the pergola in the center of the area. Vines blooming with bright pink flowers wind along the pillars and planks, giving it a secret garden sort of feel that has me extra excited I agreed to enjoy breakfast with Helena.
I find her inside the structure, seated in a wicker chair lined with plush cushions, gazing out over the ocean. She turns to me as I approach, offering a soft smile. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"
I settle the tray onto the table at her side. "It's gorgeous." I straighten, looking out over the same ocean she's back to watching. "I've had breakfast in worse places."
She lets out a single, loud laugh, her head tipping back. "As have I." Turning, Helena collects one of the cups, dropping in a square of sugar and a little cream before stirring it all together. "London is beautiful in its own way. I love all the history there, but I wanted to spend the rest of my life somewhere with sun and sand and water."
I settle into the seat across the table from her, taking the other cup, skipping both the cream and sugar. "I'll take your word for it. I've never been to London."
Helena waves one hand. "Fynn will take you there soon enough." Her eyes come my way. "Maybe now that he has you, he won't spend so much time worrying over me, and he can go back to his life."
It's not difficult to tell Fynn’s mother isn't healthy. Her body is thin and a little frail, and her skin is slightly pale. Fynn hasn't explained to me what's going on, and I haven't felt like I have the right to ask, so I just nod, even though I sincerely doubt what she's suggesting will happen. I don't technically know Fynn well, but he’s not the kind of man who would move across the ocean from his sick mother, leaving her behind to deal with it on her own.
Heck, I barely know her, and I wouldn't want to do that.
"I'm the reason he stayed even when Jessica started spreading the rumors about him." Helena continues gazing over the water. "I told him to leave many times, but he refused."
"That's because he's selfless." It's an easy observation to make. Especially given our circumstances. At this point Fynn knows I'm getting way more out of this deal than he is. He would probably be fine if he walked away now. Jessica’s admitted the truth, and the tides are turning for him. But he’s still adamant he'll hold up his end of the bargain. Even though it's dangerous and more than a hassle.
His mother smiles, her expression taking on a wistful edge. "He's always been like that. Ever since he was a little boy he's enjoyed helping people. Lifting them up. Cheering on his friends and making sure he was the first one in line to congratulate them over any successes they had."
I know everything she's saying is benign, but my thoughts immediately take a turn and are filled with all the hushed and heated words Fynn has growled into my ear. The way he showers me with compliments and praise, even when he's unhappy with me.
"I know I am biased, but my son is a good person." The softness in her expression disappears, replaced by the hard lines of a scowl. "That's why it destroyed me to know so many people were saying such horrible things about him."
I don't know what makes me say it, but a confession jumps right out of my mouth. "I think I broke Jessica's nose yesterday." I press my lips together, sealing them shut, cheeks heating with embarrassment. I shouldn't have told her that. I want Fynn’s mother to think I’m just as good of a person as he is. That I'm also kind and smart and—
Helena straightens, her head snapping my way. "You're kidding."
