Page 40 of His Prince
“I’m okay. I just needed a small nap.”
“Angel, you’re going to work yourself to death.”
“I’m not. I’m just…It’s been an adjustment. I just needed a nap. I’m okay. I want to work in the garden some more.”
“Fine, but I’m cooking dinner tonight. I’ll have one of the guys help me.”
“Okay,” I say and nuzzle up to him, loving the feel of being held tightly, but it has to end.
Casey isn’t anything more than a friend to me, an older brother of sorts, a hovering mother hen.
I need to make my way on my own.
I move to the garden when my phone rings. I pull it out, a wobbly smile forming on my face, and when I answer the video call, a telltale sniffle exits me.
“Hi, you two,” I say, my eyes glittering. I swipe at them quickly, and I can see Tatum frowning as he watches me, my father in the background.
“Hey, are you okay?”
“Oh, yes. Just a bit homesick, but I’m fine. Really.”
Lies. All fucking lies. That’s what I am now, a liar. A wave of homesickness rolls through me, and I suddenly feel nauseous. I just want to go home.
I miss home.
Tatum leans forward and purses his lips. “You can tell us, Angel.”
“I really am fine. It’s so beautiful here. The types of flowersthat can grow in this environment are wonderful. And Mikhail has a large greenhouse that’s just for me.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. It’s lovely here.”
I don’t tell them I’m planting the flowers in the overgrown garden and that I bought the greenhouse with my own money, but still…
“We can come visit, right?” Tatum asks, looking back at my dad, who is watching me intently.
“Once you’re recovered,” Anthony replies to him.
My brow furrows, realizing that I’ve missed something major. “Recovered from what?”
Tatum sighs and then waves his hand at the camera.
“What is that? What happened?” I gasp.
“I was kidnapped and they…well, they stole a piece of me.”
My eyes are wide, cheeks flushed, and my heart aching for my friend, for what he must have gone through. “I hope my dad found them. And has ripped them to pieces.”
“Currently in the process,” my dad says, and I nod in approval.
“Good,” I say and then sigh. “I really do miss you all.”
“We will plan a trip. I promise. I want to see how you’re doing,” Tatum says. “I miss you, friend.”
“Same,” I reply and then reassure them once more that I’m well and taken care of.
When we hang up, I bury my face in my hands and weep.