Page 111 of False God

“Yes.”

“It’s nice.”

A conspicuous understatement. I thought the Beaumonts’ place was big. This villa makes their house look like a fisherman’s cottage. Not to mention its jaw-dropping location, right on the coast with private water access.

“Yeah.” He exhales.

I bump his knee with mine. “If this whole duke thing doesn’t work out, you could start a cleaning company.”

Charlie huffs a laugh under his breath. Glances around, like he’s registering where we are for the first time. “I haven’t been here in years.”

“I love the cypress trees. And I’m pretty sure that’s a fig.” I point it out.

“Do you work on projects like this?” Charlie asks. “Design gardens at private houses?”

“I have, yeah. Last spring, I worked on Christian Davis’s house.”

Charlie’s expression is blank.

“The actor?” I prompt.

He shrugs. “I don’t watch a lot of movies.”

“Okay, well, he’s pretty famous in the US.”

“Did you date him?”

He sounds jealous, and it’s more thrilling than him stalking across the club was. Because I wasn’t trying to make him jealous this time, but I think he still is.

“No. Hiswifehired me for the project. They’d just gotten married and bought their first house together. She wanted the yard to feel like home.”

Charlie’s nod is slow. “This villa was my dad’s wedding gift to my mom.”

“Oh.”

I can see the resentment in his expression now, like he gave me permission to view it by uttering those words.

“I don’t know why he didn’t sell it after they got divorced. But he didn’t, so now, I have to.”

I don’t fully understand what he means by that. Why he feels like hehasto sell it. Because of the memories, I guess? It would be hard to look at a physical symbol of your parents’ relationship, knowing the relationship itself is permanently wrecked.

His parents didn’t just get divorced; his dad died. They’ll never be a complete family again, and that would be hard enough to accept without additional reminders.

Asking more questions doesn’t feel like my place, so I just whisper, “I’m sorry, Charlie.”

“It’s fine,” he says quickly. Then, softer, “I’msorry. I’m dropping a lot on you today.”

“I don’t mind.”

More than that, I like it. I’m not sure who else he confides in.Ifthere’s anyone else he confides in. He reminds me of an ancient god, some iteration of Zeus, ruling the sky, or Poseidon, the sea. Powerful. Unique.Alone.

I flick some water with my toes. “What was your dad like?”

“He was …” Charlie exhales. “He was a hard person to describe.”

“Oh.” I focus on the ripples disturbing the surface of the water, giving him the out.

“He blamed me.”

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