Chapter 11: The Porch

Claire's POV

Willem came back from Nashville on Friday night, and I was waiting for him on my aunt's front porch.

I had been sitting there for an hour in a blanket, which was not a coincidence.

He came up the steps with his coat over his arm, tired, and stopped when he saw my face.

"You're angry," he said.

"You went behind my back."

"I did."

"You told me one thing at midnight, after you were already on a plane. You had a whole speech ready about my rule."

"I should have told you before I booked the ticket."

"Yes."

"I'm sorry."

He said it flatly, and he didn't add anything.

I had expected a reason, and the lack of one took the wind out of me.

"What did he say?" I asked.

He sat down on the top step, one stair below me.

"Skip the lunch," I said. "Tell me one thing Rupert said that wasn't about Lydia's rules."

Willem thought about it.

"He said he was the president on paper," Willem said. "And he said he has his own money. Somewhere. He wasn't sure."

"Rich men say strange things."

"Maybe."

"He lives in a house with a pool."

"Maybe," Willem said again, and let it go.

I pulled the blanket tighter.

"Lydia?"

"She sat down and ordered us dessert."

"Of course she did."

"She said she hoped you were taking care of yourself, and she said it nicely."

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