Page 57 of Slow Kind of Love

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “She must have had some reason—”

“I’m sure she did,” he replied sharply. “But she sure as hell didn’t share it with me. Who does that?”

“Did you really think she was the one?” Her voice was gentle.

“I called my father and asked for the ring.”

His cousin’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

“I wanted to make her my wife, so yeah, she was the one.” He pushed his plate away and got to his feet. “I thought we were past her fears about our age difference. I didn’t think she cared what people thought. She was beyond that, or at least I thought she was. But she left and didn’t say why, and I thought she’d be back. I figured she panicked at the sight of the ring, so I gave her some time because I’m a nice bloke. But it’s been nearly two weeks, and there hasn’t been one word. Not one,” he finished savagely.

Rose got to her feet and joined him at the kitchen counter, where they both stared out the window at the lake beyond.

“Have you tried calling her?”

“I told myself I wasn’t going to, but that lasted a couple of days and then bit the dust, as they say around here. I called and left messages. Three days ago, I went round to her place. It was locked up but good, and her neighbor told me she was grabbing her paper and such because Elise had gone away on vacation.” He laughed, a bitter sound that made his cousin wince. “She’s on fucking vacation, and I’m bleeding all over the place.”

They continued to stare out the window for several more moments, and then Rose leaned against him.

“It’s time, then, don’t you think?”

“Time for what?” He glanced down at her.

“Time to go home. Back to England. Back to Grove Manor.”

Link turned back to the lake and all that sunshine. He spotted a couple of birds diving into the water, no doubt trying to catch their dinner, and beyond that, Pottahawk Island. A place he’d planned on visiting this summer with his ladylove. All the bright and vibrant spring colors looked dull and brown to him. This place had lost its shine. Maybe Rose was right. Maybe it was time.

He swore and pushed back from the counter. “Are you ready to head back, then?”

She shrugged. “New York was fun, but it’s no different than London or Milan, and Cee Cee is a right pain in the arse. My god, she’s gotten so dull and narrow minded. I would have come back here sooner but I met this busboy who was loads of fun.”

“I suppose I could look into a flight.”

“Already done.”

“Commercial?”

“Private.”

“You were so sure of my answer, then.”

“No, and I was sweating bullets thinking I’d have to cover the change involved in chartering the plane.”

“It’s more than a few pennies.”

“Right.” She grinned. “I’m super glad you can afford it.”

“What time are we scheduled?”

“Anytime you want. You just to call the pilot. He’s somewhere called O’Hare.”

Link put in the call and gathered a few clothes and personal items, including the ring that still sat on the table beside his bed. He tucked it into his travel bag, grabbed Pepper’s paperwork, and, about an hour after his cousin had pushed her way into his house, he turned the key and locked it up tight. They’d called a car service so he didn’t have to deal with his vehicle, and when the driver arrived he instructed him to make one stop before heading to the city.

Poppy came out as he slid from the car, and she gave him a big hug. “You’re leaving.”

“Yeah,” he replied, handing her the keys to his cottage. “Get someone to look after things. I’m not sure when I’ll be back. There’s lots to keep me busy at Grove Manor.”

“Boone isn’t here. He’s at the complex.”

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