Reluctantly Royal
Page 20

“He won’t.” I stared up at him. “He’ll sleep it off tomorrow and then go back to normal.”
“Did your grandfather leave you any money?” He let his hand slide to his side. “Did he put any aside for you?”
“I have what’s in my bank account, but I don’t think he had a will. It all goes to my dad.” My breath hitched in my throat. “The title, the house, the money. Even the township falls on my dad. Don’t you get it? It’s not just about me and Marty. I can’t let him ruin all of that. I can’t let him make your family look bad for bringing us back.”
His eyes darted down to my lips and I swear I could still feel his kiss. A breath shuddered out of me.
“Don’t worry about my family. My mother knew what she was doing when she brought you back.” He stepped close. “You’re not the first family that has had a problem with alcohol. There are ways of handling this if you’ll let me help.”
“I . . . I don’t know, Max.” I licked my lips. “Having you around will just make him feel threatened.”
His chest rose in an angry breath. “This is insane, Meredith.”
“Just . . . just trust me.” I put a hand on his chest. “Look, I appreciate you wanting to be my knight in shining armor, but I know what I’m doing.” No, I didn’t. I had no idea how I was going to handle my father, but the last thing I needed was someone swooping in and making it harder.
“I’m leaving, but I’ll be back.” He took my hand. “I have to.” His eyes willed me to understand.
“Give me a day.” Compromise. I could do that. “I’ve got to speak to the township tomorrow.” God, I still had no idea what to say. I could fake it, though. I was good at that.
“When is the funeral?”
“Three days.”
Reaching around me, he pulled my phone out of my back pocket. Quickly he typed into the phone and hit send. His phone beeped and he pulled it out of his pocket and checked something before handing my phone back to me.
“Call me if you need me.” He looked at me earnestly. “Even if it’s just to sit with Marty.”
“Okay.” I took my phone back and slipped it into my pocket. I hoped he couldn’t tell that I was lying. I wasn’t on my best game right now. The last thing I wanted to do was involve a member of royalty in my family drama.
“Meredith . . .” He sighed and shook his head. “I’ll be back.”
His eyes searched my face for a minute and then he was gone, the door closing softly behind him. I leaned against the stair railing and took a minute to catch my breath. That man kept me on my toes. God, I was the wrong kind of woman for him. And what had I been doing when I let him kiss me? Kiss me! I didn’t kiss men. It was too raw, too real.
Sweet Lord, it had been delicious. The kind of kiss that made you feel like a woman.
Dangerous. He was dangerous. I’d broken my main rule for men after two days of being around him. How the hell had he wormed his way where other men couldn’t get with a bulldozer?
I looked over where I had set the sketchbook and felt my breath catch. He had captured Marty in just a few strokes of the pencil. Down to the baby fat still in his cheeks and the way his mouth hung partially open. It was beautiful and he had done it with a child’s sketch pad and number two pencil. I picked up the book and carefully pulled the picture out.
Taking the steps two at a time, I opened the door to Marty’s room and slid the sketchbook back on his desk.
“Mom?” His voice sounded so small in the dark room.
“Yes?” I opened the door wider and looked at my son. “What do you need?”
“Is Max gone?” He rubbed at his eyes.
“Yes, baby.” I walked over and sat down on his bed. “He had to go home.”
“I like him.” He rolled over and reached out for my hand. I wrapped his fingers with mine and squeezed gently.
“Me too.” It was true. I liked Max. More than I had liked anyone in a long time. Which was scary.
“Good.” He yawned. “Will you stay until I fall asleep?”
“Sure.” I kicked my shoes off and curled up next to him.
“Thanks.”
I kissed his head and pulled him against me. His legs were hitting another gangly, awkward phase, his ankles peeping out of his pants. It wouldn’t be long until he was taller than me.
His little fingers gripped my wrist and I smiled. He might be growing faster than a weed, but he was still my baby right now.
It wasn’t until the sunlight streaming through Marty’s window hit my face that I woke up. Marty was sprawled across the bed, his leg draped over mine and one arm thrown above his head. Carefully I extracted my body from his bed and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes.
I tiptoed down the hall and into my room, where I hurried into the shower. I still needed to figure out what I was going to do for the speech later that afternoon. I needed to wake up my father and see if he would be willing to do it, or if he would at least come stand with me in family solidarity.
I closed my eyes and let the water run over my face. There were only three outcomes that I could foresee. One, he would tell me to do it myself and go back to sleep. Two, he would insist on doing it himself and drunkenly slur through the whole ordeal. Or three, he would come and stand beside me while I handled the responsibility and then blame me for something not going right.
Getting dressed, I put on what I considered “lady” clothes. A skirt and blouse, dark, to show mourning, but I couldn’t resist wearing some kick-ass heels. I needed something to make me feel strong and pulled together, and those shoes were just the thing. Looking in the mirror, I nodded in approval. I pulled my hair up into a simple twist and chose very bland jewelry. Simple studs and the ring Granddad had given me.