Tommy chuckles. “In this neighborhood? Brother, I’m not even gonna blink.”
A while later, I’m at the penthouse, sitting across from Nicholas in the library. “It’s about Ellie’s new flat. Have you seen it?”
He grins. “She was going on and on about it at dinner last night. She seems very excited about having some independence, standing on her own feet.”
“But you haven’t actually seen the place yourself?” I push.
And his hands stop shuffling papers. “No. But judging from your tone, I’m guessing I should.”
“The sooner the better.”
He rises from his chair and I follow him out to the living room, where Olivia is reviewing paperwork for their new charitable venture. Since Lord Ellington acquired Ellie’s mother’s pie recipes and is selling them as fast as they can ship them, the diners are no longer serving them. Instead, they serve hot, nutritious meals instead, cold sandwiches and hot coffee—to anyone who enters. They’re only asked to pay what they can.
Nicholas holds out his hand. “Road trip.”
She stands, pecking his lips. “Where are we going?”
“Ellie moves into her new flat today—let’s visit.”
“She said she wanted us to wait until she got everything set up.”
Nicholas meets my eyes over his wife’s pretty, dark head.
“Let’s surprise her. Your sister likes surprises.”
When Olivia steps through the doorway of the flat, with her eyes as big as quarters, it’s clear that Ellie isn’t the only one surprised.
A booming sound comes from outside, a few blocks away.
“Hey guys!” Ellie greets her sister and brother-in-law. “I didn’t want you to come by until I got everything ready. What do you think? Isn’t it great?”
Nicholas, a man known for having a way with words, has trouble finding them. “It’s . . . something.”
And all Olivia can manage is, “Wow.”
The boom sound comes again. Before I can comment, Nicholas asks, “Is that . . .?”
“Gunshots?” Tommy finishes. “Aye. They go off about every twenty minutes. Like a poor man’s Big Ben.”
A scraggly bearded vagrant, naked except for a dirty, worn trench coat, peeks into the window and waves.
I motion towards him. “The neighbors seem friendly.”
Olivia marches to the window and pulls down the shade—and the whole bloody curtain rod falls down.
Did I say the place should be condemned? It should be bombed.
“Why is it so cold?” Nicholas asks.
Ellie’s face scrunches a bit. “Yeah—there’s a minor issue with the heat.”
“What’s the issue?”
“There isn’t any.”
She raises her finger. “But it’s okay—I have a plan.”
Nicholas scratches his brow. “Can’t wait to hear it.”
“I thought I’d get one of those outdoor fire pits and I’d put it by the window, of course, so the smoke can blow out.”
“A fire pit?” Nicholas repeats.
“Yeah,” Ellie goes on. “You know, the Native Americans used to have fires inside their tepees and the smoke would escape out the top,” she explains.
“Tepees?” Tommy parrots.
“Right.” Nicholas nods. “Okay. Ah, Tommy, can you take those boxes, please? Logan—get those on that side, and I’ll carry these,” he says, hoisting two large boxes near his feet.
“What are you doing?” Ellie asks.
“You’re not staying here,” Nicholas tells her.
“I know it’s not perfect . . . but I love it,” Ellie wails.
“We’ll find you a new place to love. I’ll even ask the owner to loosen the pipes so they leak if that’ll make you happy, but you can’t stay here. Absolutely not.”
“But—”
“Holy shit!” Olivia screeches. And jumps. “There’s a rat! A huge rat!”
“Don’t hurt him!” Ellie yells. “I saw him before. I was going to try feeding him. I already named him Remy—from Ratatouille—he’s cute.”
“Remy’s not gonna be so cute when he’s eating your toes while you sleep,” I tell her.
She points her finger at me, all cute and pissy. “You’re not helping.”
Olivia starts repacking boxes.
Ellie leaps towards her. “Wait, Liv! Back me up—sister code.”
“You can’t stay here, Ellie. There’s no way.”
“But it’s got character written all over it,” Ellie whines.
“I think you’re mistaking character for the message the serial killer wrote on the wall in blood, after he dumped the bodies here.”
Ellie scowls at her big sister, shaking her head, “Marrying a prince has made you soft, Liv.”
Olivia laughs. “I was never hard enough for Remy. Ever.” The new princess snaps her fingers. “Let’s go.”
She then follows her husband and Tommy straight out the door.
While I close up a box at my feet and lift it, Ellie stands in the middle of the room, turning in a half circle. She’s quiet and seems . . . tiny in the empty flat. Dejected.
I step up behind her. “There’ll be other places, Elle.”
Her purple tipped blond hair sways across her back as she shakes her head. “Not like this.”
“No, they’ll be better. Nicer, safer places. You deserve better.”
She spins around then, with a burst of righteous energy. The tips of her small ears go pink and her cheeks are rosy with anger.
“You ratted me out to Nicholas,” she hisses.
And there’s a devil inside me that wants to tease her, toy with her—like a lad tugging on a girl’s braids—just to see how she’ll react when I do.
“Yeah, I did.”
Ellie folds her arms, all adorable simmering fury—a pretty pussycat who just discovered her claws. “I didn’t take you for a narc, Logan.”
I shrug. “Now you know.”
She jams her finger towards my chest. “You are on my permanent shit list, buddy. I’ll never forgive you for this. Never.”
I lean in close, dropping my voice. “Since now you’ll actually be alive for all those years that you’re busy not forgiving me, I’m gonna put this one down as a win.”
She sticks her tongue out, then twirls around and stomps away.
And, Christ, even her tongue is cute.
Somebody fuckin’ punch me.
Six months later
FOR THE NEXT FEW MONTHS, Ellie stays put—at the well-secured penthouse with Prince Nicholas and Olivia. Their lives go on—there are social events and announcements and the occasional royal duty. The rest of their time is spent working on expanding the Amelia’s charitable diners. Eric Hammond, almost two years sober now, has thrown himself into the venture and works every day at one of the three locations—cooking, washing dishes, interacting with employees and patrons—doing whatever needs to be done to keep the places running smoothly.
The press still swarms the royal couple like a nest of annoying nits, publishing articles that have no truth to them. But Nicholas settles in happily to married life and his mostly civilian American existence. While Lady Olivia, her father and Ellie adjust fully to their celebrity-by-association status.
And Ellie occasionally . . . dates.
It’s a sore subject. Mostly because it irks the fuck out of me.