Page 20 of Heavy Crown

I unlock the heavy wooden door and then pass her the key. She steps through into the open-plan, cottagey space with exposed beams, and her hand goes to her heart.

“Wow,” she breathes. “It’s so cute.”

“The ground floor apartments are all studios. If you think you might have anyone coming to visit, I can check if we have any two beds on another floor.”

“No, this is perfect. This is…” She searches the space. “This is exactly what I expected to live in when I moved here.” Her delighted smile twists into confusion. “I had a dream about a place just like this when I was still in Canada. Isn’t that weird?”

I scan her face and try to piece together what it is about her features that are so achingly familiar. When I can’t turn up anything, I realize I can’t dismiss her dream either. Have I dreamt of her too? What a strange thought.

“This works for you?” I ask. “I’ll get someone to stock the fridge and freezer if you give me a list of things you’ll want.”

“Oh, no. You can’t buy my groceries. If I can’t go myself, I’ll give whoever money.” She bites her lip. “Or you can garnish my wages for the food and for the clothes Tanya bought.”

We’re not getting into who pays who for what. “The press will be all over you the first time you leave here. Obviously, you’ll need to collect your things from the McGuinty apartment.”

“When should I do that?” She plucks at her lips. “I’m actually supposed to be working right now at the golf course.”

I chuckle. “Safe to say the car accident and Derrick’s wayward dick served as your two weeks’ notice.”

“I’ve spent all this time, you know, trying to make him happy, clinging on to something that didn’t even feel right anymore.” Her chin trembles. “But it’s kind of scary to realize how drastically my life has changed in the last twenty-four hours.”

I lean against the wall and watch her try to fend off more tears. “Need a hug?” My voice is husky as though I’ve been the one crying.

“Would you?” Her expression is full of teary hopefulness. “I could really use one.”

“Go on then.” I step away from the wall and open my arms. She clutches onto me, and her cheek presses against my heart. “Can’t stand to see a woman cry.”

She releases a muffled laugh. “Funny. I turn to putty at the sight of men’s tears.”

“You’ve inspired men to cry, have you?”

Her shoulders rise and fall in my tight embrace. “I am the creator of my own downfall.”

I chuckle, but her words resonate. Standing in this tiny cottage apartment, the yellow I saw ahead of me earlier is morphing into orange on its way to red. There’s something about having this girl in my arms that’s doing all sorts of funny things to me—desire, protectiveness, and this other deep-seated emotion I can’t put my finger on.

Perhaps my mother was right to be worried.

ten

Rory

I’ve been housed in my little cottage for the last few hours with my bags of new clothes, my painkillers, and absolutely nothing to do. Since I’ve come to Bellerive, I’ve barely had a free moment between trying to please Derrick’s parents and fitting in with Derrick’s friends. Realizing exactly how deeply entrenched I allowed myself to get into his life is like awakening from a deep slumber. What choice did I have? The golf course consumed any free time Derrick and I didn’t already have assigned to something else. There was no room for me to join clubs or activities, to pursue my own passions or make my own friends.

I won’t be making that mistake again.

Since Alex didn’t leave me any paper, and I’m not sure when I’ll have a phone again, I make a mental list in my head of the sorts of things I’ll never do again.

I will never work at a boyfriend’s family business

I won’t allow myself to be cut off from friends and family back home for another guy

I’m done pleasing men at the expense of my own happiness

I consider going further and listing all the things I learned in my two years with Derrick, but I suspect letting my mind go there will make me bitter. The truth is that I wanted to come here. I wanted to be with him. But I gave up so much of myself in doing that.

There’s a knock on the door, and I breathe a sigh of relief I won’t be alone staring out the window at the ocean across the fields and recounting all my mistakes.

When I open the door, a tall, dark-skinned man is holding a clipboard and has a slightly annoyed expression marring his otherwise handsome face.