Page 6 of Restoration
The familiar refrain in the familiar male voice breaks through my heavy reverie. “Yes?” I’ve been sitting in a leather side chair in Edmund’s bedroom, working on my laptop while he rummages through his closet.
He always claims to want to do his own packing but will eventually get frustrated and let me do it for him instead. So I’m waiting for him to give up.
He emerges from the closet with an armful of clothes. “How much do you think I should bring?”
“Not that many shirts. You’ve got exactly two feet of closet space since you decided on the smaller boat, and I’m not giving you any of mine.”
“I’ll need a couple of weeks’ worth of clothes at least, won’t I?” He blinks at me with an endearing kind of blankness.
“Not really. I can do our laundry on the boat, so you won’t need very much. You won’t be happy with a lot of extra stuff cluttering up your cabin. Stick to four or five days’ worth of clothes and no more than three pairs of shoes.”
He huffs and dumps his armful of clothes on the bed. “Do you mind packing for me? You always know what I’ll want.”
I give him a tight-lipped smile. “Sure.”
“You mad?” He peers at me, and for a moment his expression is observant. Almost sharp, if that adjective can ever be applied to him.
“Of course not. But I did recommend I do your packing, and you said you could do it.”
“I could do it. But you’d only redo it afterward, so you might as well do it from the start.”
“Uh-huh.”
“You seem mad.”
“I’m not mad.” When he clearly doesn’t believe me, I add, “I’m feeling kind of impatient and frustrated. We had everything planned to take the larger yacht with a crew and domestic staff. Then you changed your mind at the last minute and caused a lot of people a lot of last-minute scurrying. Including me.”
“Yeah, I know.” He sighs and sits down on the edge of his bed, wrinkling the beautifully folded duvet. “But the point of this cruise is to get away from everything, and so the fewer people hovering, the better.”
“I get that. But is it really going to be as relaxing as you’re hoping when you have to pilot the boat entirely on your own?”
“It’ll be fine. I love sailing.”
“I know you do.” I sigh. “If you really want to be alone, you could always go by yourself.”
He stares at me as if he’s utterly dumbfounded.
He clearly can’t even fathom my not being here to make his life run smoothly. He can’t even imagine spending two months alone on a sailboat without me.
“I just meant,” I say slowly, “that if you really want to be alone—”
“I can be alone with you.”
Well. Isn’t that a flattering sentiment? “Lovely,” I mutter dryly.
“You know what I mean.” He reaches over and very lightly touches my forearm. “It’s been months now, the whole time I was dating Kontessa, that it feels like I’ve been surrounded by people on all sides. Paparazzi and fans and security staff and... and people. People everywhere. I just need some time without people everywhere, even just a few. I’m used to you, so it doesn’t feel like you’re invading my space.”
I understand exactly what he’s telling me. For the six months he dated Kontessa, everywhere we went was a circus. Nothing was ever private or quiet or even mostly tame. He broke up with Kontessa a few weeks ago, a month after we found him on the floor, high from that drug. The breakup might have been a deep relief to me, but the entire relationship was difficult and stressful for Edmund, and I don’t blame him for wanting to get away for a while.
The truth is Edmund isn’t the only one who needs a break. I was happy about his initial plan for a leisurely, two-month cruise down the Pacific coast, but then he changed his mind at the last minute and so we lost the staff that would make the trip a relaxing one for me.
“Okay. I do get it. But if we’re not bringing the crew and the staff, it’s going to be more work. You’ll have to take care of yourself.”
He blinks at me again. Way too good-looking. Way too rich and adored and blessed. “But I’ve got you for that.”
Of course he does.
I take care of him, and his life runs smoothly.