“Want to go in?”
“Sure.”
I push the door open wider. The sitting room was one of Mom’s favorite places. It’s a huge room with two floor-to-ceiling windows at one end and a fireplace at the other. The last time I was in here, Dad announced his engagement with Brooke.
“You look like her,” Hartley remarks, her silver gaze still fixed on the portrait.
I stare up at my mother’s oval face. “We’ve all got her hair and eyes.”
Hartley shakes her head. “No, it’s the shape of the face. And your eyebrows. Your mother has perfect eyebrows and you do, too.”
“I guess?” I’ve never given it much thought. “Who do you look more like—your mom or dad?” I instantly wish I could take the words back. I know she hates talking about her parents. “Forget I asked.”
“No, it’s fine.” Hartley shrugs. “I look more like my dad. Parker, my sister, takes after our mother. Delicate. Sweet.”
I snort. “She didn’t seem delicate or sweet at the diner.”
Again, I want to bite my tongue off. Why do I keep saying dumb things?
But Hartley surprises me. She leans an arm against the mantel, her fingertips rubbing along the lower part of the mahogany frame. “Sweet and delicate are her weapons. You don’t want to make her angry because she’s such an angel. You want her approval. Her love and affection.”
Wow. She could be talking about my mom. “But you’ll never get it because she’s too self-absorbed.”
My turn to surprise Hartley. Her eyebrows raise a notch. “Know someone like that?”
I point to the painting.
Hartley’s pretty lips turn down at the corners. “That sucks.” She twists around to face me. Her hands are clasped. It looks like she’s holding something between them but I can’t tell what it is. “I’m sorry about the other night. I flew off the handle and got mad at you for no reason.”
I exhale as if a giant balloon inside me just popped. “No, hell. I’m sorry. I’ve been pushing you.”
She raises a hand for me to shush. “How about I apologize first and then you go?”
“Okay.” I make a zipping motion across my mouth.
Her lips twitch. “I’m very sorry for being a brat the other night. I’m sorry for yelling at you. I’m sorry for ripping off the necklace. That was terrible.” She reaches for my hand and places something in my palm.
Curiously, and with a lot of excitement, I gaze down at the gift. It’s a thin leather bracelet with a silver buckle.
“I know it’s not much—”
“It’s awesome,” I interrupt. I hold it out. “Put it on for me.”
When she does, her fingers tremble. I want to pull her into my arms and hug her, but I’ll wait until she’s done fixing the clasp.
The walnut brown leather looks good against my tanned skin, and I like the silver accent. “Love it,” I tell her.
“I know you don’t wear anything but the watch but—”
“It’s perfect. Don’t say anything else, because I love this and I won’t stand for anyone insulting it, not even you.” I hold my wrist in the air. “Looks sick.”
She grins. “I don’t know how sick it is, but I’m glad you like it. Oh. I have one other gift.”
“Yeah?” I ask cautiously. I don’t want to scare her off with my eagerness.
“My other gift is this—I did something to piss off my parents and now they’ve banished me.” Her fingers absently trace the frame of the painting. “I have another sister. Did I tell you about her?”
I shake my head. “No, but I saw her picture in the newspaper article I found online.”
“Her name’s Dylan’s. She’s thirteen. I’ve only been able to talk to her eight times in three years.”
Hartley stops talking. I can tell she’s on the verge of tears.
I take a step toward her, but she puts up a hand. “No. I can’t take any sympathy at the moment. I’ll break down and I don’t want to do that.”
“I talk to Reed at least once a week,” I find myself admitting. “I’d probably be an emotional mess if I couldn’t see or talk to my brothers more than a couple times a year.”
“Yeah… It hasn’t been easy.” She twists away and ducks her head. I suspect she’s wiping away a few tears, but I pretend not to notice.
“We should kidnap her,” I suggest.
“My sister?”
“Yup. We’ll go to her school, sneak her out during the day, and go to the pier. Whaddya say?”
“I wish.”
“I’m serious. I’m good at shenanigans. I could pull this off without a hitch. We’d buy funnel cakes, which I know from past experience you love. Headbands with animal ears. Bunnies for you and Dylan. A tiger for me.”
Hartley’s smiling. “Why not a tiger for me and bunny ears for you? You’d look cute in pink.”
“I’d be so cute that the whole midway would grind to a halt and then Dylan wouldn’t get to go on any rides.” I wink.
Hartley’s smile grows bigger, and the anxious, itchy, crabby feeling that ate at me for the past twenty-four hours fades away.
“I want to see her!” someone shouts from the front hall.
The familiar male voice freezes me in my tracks.
“Ella’s not home,” comes my father’s icy reply.
“Bullshit. I know she’s here,” Steve snaps. “Get out of my way, Callum. She’s my daughter and I need to speak to her.”
Hartley taps me on my shoulder. “I should probably leave,” she murmurs.
Her discomfort at hearing this matches mine, only for different reasons. She thinks I’m embarrassed, but I’m worried about Ella. “No. Stay here,” I whisper.
“What you need to do is stay far away from her,” Dad snaps back. “The only reason we haven’t filed a restraining order against you is because we didn’t think you were stupid enough to show up here.”
“You’re the one who opened the gate,” Steve says snidely.
I inch the door forward, and Dad and Steve’s voices immediately get louder. I’m perplexed why Dad would let Steve in. Hopefully, Ella is far away and doesn’t know her dad’s here.
I grab my phone from my pocket and text Reed.
Steve’s here
I kno. Ella texted me
Damn.
Where r u? Reed asks
In the sitting rm. Where’s Ella?
Top of stairs
“Shit,” I mutter.
Hartley comes up beside me. “What’s wrong?”
“Ella’s bio dad is out there causing problems.” I jerk my thumb toward the foyer, where the argument’s still going strong.
“What choice did I have?” Dad says. “You were waking up the entire neighborhood, parked out there and laying on your horn like a maniac. You’re lucky I didn’t call the cops.”
“Why didn’t you?” Steve mocks.
“Because Ella’s already been through enough. The last thing that girl needs is to see her father once again carted away in handcuffs. But I mean it, Steve. You’re not to come near her. You’re no longer her guardian—I am. The court—”
“Screw the court!”
Hartley flinches. I lay a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
“She’s my daughter, Callum. And I don’t know what horseshit your lawyers have been feeding you, but Ella is going to be a witness for the defense, not the prosecution. My daughter is not going to testify against me.”
Hartley gasps and then slaps a hand over her mouth.
I bring my lips close to her ear. “And you think you’ve got skeletons in your closet, huh? Trust me, no secrets you have are dirtier than the ones we Royals have.”
“You Royals always have to be the best at everything,” she jokes weakly. Her face is pale and her eyes are wide.
“Welcome to my life.” I take her hand and grip it tightly in mine. She squeezes back.
Out in the hall, the two dads are still arguing. In here, we’re comforting each other.