Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
I take in a deep breath until my lungs feel like they might burst, the pain nearly impossible to ignore.
“We don’t have to eat it,” I say after a moment. “You can eat it later. Anytime you want. And we don’t have to talk. Just know that I’m Laila, and I care for you a lot, and that I’m here.”
We sit like that for thirty minutes until she falls asleep in her chair.
The moment I’m outside in the sunshine, I start to cry.
Nine
LAILA
Two years ago
I can’t sleep.
I’ve been staring up at the ceiling for hours, doing that annoying thing where I try to make myself feel better for getting only seven hours of sleep, for getting only six hours of sleep, for getting only five hours of sleep, the hours counting down while my mind winds up.
I’m stressed. And it’s not just the usual anxiety that comes with being a nanny for a literal princess—it’s Grandma I’m worried about. I got a call from my cousin Peter, who lives near her, that put me on edge. Seems she’s been acting a little erratic lately, going for walks along the fjord in the night. Strange behavior that frightens me, makes me want to ask for the first available days off so that I can go and check on her.
A shuffling sound breaks me out of my thoughts, and I look to the open window. Even though it’s mid-September and the nights are cool, I can’t sleep without fresh air on my face.
I get out of bed and look out the window to see James walking across the path from the back gate to the house. He’s wearing a suit as usual, and he doesn’t seem overly drunk or anything until he suddenly stops and crouches down, staring at something on the ground.
I watch him for a few moments as he does this, until I feel like a creeper. Then I decide, To hell with it. I grab my robe and throw it on over my nightgown. I slide on my slippers and head downstairs, being quiet as I pass by the rooms. In the time I’ve been working at Primrose Cottage I still feel like I don’t know any of the staff. Everyone really keeps to themselves here, and I don’t know if it’s a British thing, or maybe it’s a royal thing, but there’s absolutely no camaraderie among the workers. Monica and Eddie are the exceptions to this, the only ones who have really welcomed me.
Aside from James, that is. He’s becoming my only friend here, which is scary, especially since my feelings for him over the past few weeks have become less and less friendly and way more…sexual. I can’t even help it at this point; ever since that dinner, it’s like my body has become completely in tune with his. I can feel his presence, his energy, before I even see him, my pulse going wild, my stomach swarming with butterflies, heat between my legs and all that jazz.
I really shouldn’t be doing this, heading out to see him in the middle of the night. I’d be better off in bed and staring at the ceiling and worrying myself to death.
You just need to get laid, I think.
And yeah, that’s the problem. I do.
And, fuck, I want it to be with James.
But I digress.
I tiptoe down the hallway and peek out the door to see James still crouched down, looking at something on the ground. I quietly step outside and walk over to him.
“What are you looking at?” I whisper.
“It’s a frog,” he says, slowly looking up at me. He doesn’t look surprised to see me out here, but then again, knowing his hearing and instincts, always on alert, he probably knew I was coming.
He points into the grass to the side of the path, and I crouch down next to him to get a better look. Lo and behold there’s a frog in the grass, its skin shiny in the lights. It fixes a round eye on me and then hops off.
I watch it go and look at James. “Sorry, I think I interrupted something.”
There’s something different about him tonight; his eyes are a little glazed, and he seems like he’s not really here. Or maybe he’s drunk and I’ve never seen him this way up close. Even when we went to the pub after dinner with Piper and Harrison, the two of us only had one drink each before Charles showed up with the car. And when we sometimes have drinks together in the study, neither of us have very much.
He gives his head a shake, then gazes at me.
“No, it’s all right,” he says, getting to his feet. “I was getting tired of staring at something that won’t talk to me.”
“Now you know how I feel with Madeline,” I say with a chuckle, reaching out as he begins to lean unsteadily to the right. I grab his forearms, relishing the feel of their strength beneath my fingers.