All the Feels (Spoiler Alert #2)(19)
“Shrewage isn’t a word.”
“It is now.”
After disarming the alarm and unlocking the door, she stepped inside the stables and found … what might possibly be the perfect apartment for her.
The downstairs was one large open area, with comfortable-looking seating, a widescreen television, a small kitchen and dining area, and a bathroom tucked to one side. Not a speck of dust to be seen anywhere, no doubt because of Dina’s hard work.
More white marble countertops. Stainless appliances. Shining wooden floors. Even another small fireplace bursting with waxy-leaved plants.
The narrow set of stairs at the other end of the room must lead to—
“The bedroom is upstairs. There’s a private balcony, one that overlooks the Hills. If you keep that door cracked, you’ll get a nice breeze at night. There’s a way to work it out with the alarm. I’ll show you.” He stood inside the entryway with his arms akimbo. “I think everything is pretty easy to figure out, but why don’t you take a look around before I leave?”
She kicked off her shoes and went exploring. All the appliances seemed both expensive and easy to use, and so did the television.
The bathroom …
Well, she might never leave the bathroom. It was a much larger version of the powder room in the main house, all marble and gold fixtures, complete with the most glorious hand towels in existence, not to mention entire bath towels made from the material. On the back of the door, there was even a robe in that same fabric hanging from an elegant hook. It wouldn’t fit her, of course, but she appreciated the gesture.
There was a walk-in shower and a large soaking tub and a generous sink and vanity, and she wanted inside that shower right this second. Instead, she reluctantly left the bathroom and climbed the near-spiral stairs to a high-ceilinged bedroom, dominated by a king bed with a fluffy aqua duvet and gracefully curving headboard. The rug under her feet was turquoise and white and pale yellow, and from all signs, the product of sheep who spent their lives deep-conditioning their wool for optimal softness.
When she came back downstairs, she didn’t know whether to kiss him or cry at the prospect of someday leaving the Stable of Dreams.
He was sagging against the door, but straightened when she appeared. “Everything look okay?”
She merely nodded, overcome by the very-much-more-than-okayness of it all.
“The entire property might have basic security features, but make sure to flip the deadbolt when I leave and keep it locked whenever you’re in here. Activate the alarm system too. Understood?” There was no trace of amusement anywhere in his features or voice. “I’ve been lucky to this point, but people know my name, and they can figure out where I live. Be smart, and keep yourself safe.”
He headed for the door. “You have my number. Call me if you need me, and I’ll be here in less than a minute. See you tomorrow.”
She blinked at his back, startled by the sincerity and simplicity of his parting words.
No sarcasm? No parting shots about—
“As always, watch for signs of frivolity and eliminate them with extreme prejudice.” He spoke over his shoulder. “Joy and pleasure could be lurking anywhere, at any time. Stay vigilant, Nanny Clegg.”
Then the door was closing behind him, and he was gone, leaving her somehow both aggrieved and relieved. But he didn’t move far, as she soon discovered.
“I’m waiting!” he shouted from the other side of the door a moment later, his voice muffled. “Can’t you follow simple instructions, you dolt of a woman?”
Once she’d clicked the deadbolt into place, he strode toward the main house. One after another, lights illuminated above him, as if spotlighting his progress on a stage, and she watched that progress from the window nearest the door.
His pace rapid, he moved along the wide stone path bordered by pebbles and various drought-resistant plants. Once he disappeared through the front door to the castle, she set the alarm, stepped back from the window, and pulled the curtains shut against the darkness outside.
She should take a shower, unpack, and get to bed, but instead she wandered the house again, uncharacteristically restless. Even rubbing her cheek against the best toweling in the universe couldn’t ease that weird, empty pit in her stomach.
It was an odd feeling, to have Alex so far away at night.
A relief, obviously. Dealing with him took a lot of energy.
But the little guesthouse was very, very quiet without his oversized presence, or even his half-shouted, half-laughing conversations with Marcus on the other side of a thin wall.
She must simply be lonely for human contact, however aggravating. After her shower, she’d call Sionna.
Then this niggling feeling—like she’d forgotten something important, or left it somewhere it didn’t belong—would disappear. For good, she hoped.
MIMES AND MOONLIGHT
INT. ELEGANT PARISIAN RESTAURANT – EVENING
JOHNNY and ESMéE are sitting across an intimate, candlelit table from one another, virtually alone in the restaurant. She looks distraught. Concerned, Johnny reaches for her hand.
JOHNNY
What’s wrong, Esmée?
Esmée pulls free from his grip and walks an imaginary dog. She points to the dog, then herself.
JOHNNY
I make you feel leashed? Like some kind of pet? But my darling, if you’d ever told me—