Page 42 of Y'allywood Billionaire

“No way.”

“Way.” I stop walking. “At the end of the book, Grams said that there’s sixty years of missing records after the coup. All foreign records during that time were signed by a transitional parliamentary committee. By the time the records start again, the ruler’s name is Lord Edward Galloway. She couldn’t trace him from anywhere, including all those involved in the coup.”

Maddox hesitates, deep in thought. Then, he says, “We should flesh out the story and see if there’s enough there. Who knows, we might want to pitch it to Bingeflix.”

“Really?” My eyes brighten. “You think they’d go for it?”

“Shit, yeah. A true-story medieval royal shakedown? There’s love, betrayal, double-crossing, murder…everything.” Maddox starts walking again. “I’m impressed with your grams.”

“I know, right? It’s an amazing story.”

I’d really like to know how it ends.“ He points to the castle. “Now let’s get to this place.”

“Ten-four.”

I take off, and when Maddox lags, I say, “Come on, hurry.”

“You forget I’m an old man.” He shakes his head. “I found my first gray hair the other day.”

“I’m sorry. Did you yank it out?”

“Of course.”

He’s right—it is hard to remember our age difference. Seven years, which would’ve felt like a lifetime in my teens. But at twenty-seven, it’s hardly noticeable. At least with Maddox it is, and maybe it’s because he’s a man-boy.

As he and I jog our way up the gravel path to our castle, I see that it’s even more amazing up close. It’s got a moat and a drawbridge.A freaking moat and drawbridgethat was really used! I feel like a princess returning home, waiting for my dragon to fly in and whisk me the rest of the way there.

We approach the stone-paved entrance, and my heart skips a beat. “I can’t believe I’m going to spend the night in a real medieval castle. Laire’s Castle.”

“I gotta say—I’m kind of excited.”

I take a sip from my water bottle. “I hate the reason I’m here, but I’m so glad I’m finally seeing what my grandmother wanted me to see.”

I’m reminded that we’re about to check into separate rooms because of the no-room-sharing rule, of course. And, well…the fact that we’re notactuallya couple.

Which is hard to remember as he guides me in front of him, putting his hand on my back. Or when he holds my water bottle for me as I tie my shoe.

Walking inside, my jaw drops to the marbled floor. Antique candelabra chandeliers hang from the cathedral ceilings. Massive pillars decorate the place as well as faded oil paintings of lords and ladies. Down the hallway is a wooden cavern that has a sign for a pub called McRoy’s.

There’s nothing like this in the States, and suddenly, I feel the age of this society in my bones. “Can you imagine living in a place where hundreds of generations have lived before you?”

“It’s pretty cool,” Maddox says.

“And this might sound hokey, but it’s like they’re whispering to us.”

“Not hokey at all.” His lips split into a grin, as if he understands exactly what I mean. These like-minded moments are happening more and more, and it’s disconcerting. I mean, it’sMaddox.

Standing at the registration counter, we see a group of rosy-cheeked men leaving McRoy’s holding their evening beers in silver goblets.

“This is just like the movies.” I shift my backpack from one arm to the other, and it snags on my ginormous engagement ring. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this thing.

“Itshouldbe a movie.“ Maddox peers down the cavernous hallway. “I need to get myself one of those pints.”

The old man behind the counter says, “We pour the best beer in town. But I might be a wee biased. I’m Mr. McRoy. Bar’s named after me.” He flashes a toothy smile.

“Really? Well, I can’t wait.” Maddox’s lips tick up.

Mr. McRoy looks at me. “So Riley Glenn. You’re Winifred’s granddaughter?”

---