“Want to do coffee instead?” I ask Cynthia as we head down the hall. “I think I’ve had nothing but falafel and chips all week.”
Ted’s Falafel and Chips is the island’s oldest food truck, located right across from the elementary school and the high school next door. There’s always a huge line of teenagers outside, but when I’m pressed for time, it’s literally the closest place to grab a bite on days I forget to bring my own lunch.
This week, that’s been every day. I don’t know if it’s because it’s the last week before vacation or what, but my mind has been scattered.
“Sure, I could grab an iced coffee,” Cynthia says, and then her eyes light up. “And a cinnamon bun!”
With that, I know we’re heading to Salty Seas Coffee & Goods, where I already stopped this morning for my pre-class fix. They have the gooiest cinnamon buns imaginable; they’re melt-in-your-mouth and caramelized and almost crispy. I’m drooling already.
But as we’re walking down the street, past the kids and teens lining up at the chip stand or getting slushies from the gas station, Cynthia mentions how much busier this place is going to get this weekend, when kids are out of school across the country and the island swells up like a balloon, and then my mind backtracks to two weeks ago.
It goes back to Monica and Eddie.
It goes back to Harrison.
That fateful encounter with the PPO was the last I’d heard of them being on the island. I never saw him again. They never moved in. The town very quickly, within a day, went back to normal, and all the British paparazzi vanished.
As for my podcast, well, it ended up being my most listened to episode, with it spreading all over the romance community. Tons of people messaged me, wondering who I was and where I lived, while an equal amount said I was lying and full of shit. The joys of anonymous comments and all that. I think listeners were disappointed when my next episode went back to reviewing romance books and I didn’t mention the royals again.
“Hey,” I say to her as we take a side street to the coffee shop. “Can I tell you something weird?”
“Weird?” Cynthia asks. “I love weird.”
I know she does. She’s wearing this necklace that looks like it’s made of tiny animal bones sloppily painted in neon colors. She says a student gave it to her for Christmas, and she hasn’t taken it off since, even though I think those bones belong to a frog and that the child may have cast a curse on her or something.
“Okay, so two weeks ago, when the duke and duchess were in town, well, I went straight home because you told me it was chaos in town, and you were right. Except when I went home, there was a PPO blocking the road.”
“What’s a PPO?”
“Like the royal bodyguard.” She gasps, her hands to her mouth. I go on. “Not just that, but the royal bodyguard. The sexy one. The brooding one.”
The asshole one.
“No way.”
“Uh-huh. He had to escort me to my house.”
“No! Piper. He escorted you to your house? Please tell me you let him do a strip search on you.”
“No,” I say, feigning disgust. His big, strong hands all over my naked body? I, uh . . . “No,” I repeat, more for myself. “He was controlling and a total prick on a power trip. Anyway, the whole point is that Monica and Eddie were looking to rent the place next to me. Obviously it would be perfect for them.”
She gives me a questioning look. “I’ve never been to your house. I don’t even know where you live.”
“Scott Point.”
She purses her lips. “Well la-di-da. Scott Point on a teacher’s salary.”
“It’s a long story, but believe me, it’s not what you think. I live in the old servants’ quarters, and there is no view. And anyway, he was all concerned that I would be a threat to their safety. I mean, me.”
She nods, taking that in. “That’s true. You’re the least threatening teacher on the faculty.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”
I shrug. “I guess because he told me I couldn’t tell anyone and then I kind of forgot with all the end-of-school madness. Turns out, I never saw them again, and it all died down. It’s like it never happened.”
“I guess he really did think you were a threat,” she says, an amused smile on her hot-pink lips, which match her neon bone necklace. “Miss Piper Evans, the most feared teacher on SSI.”
I attempt to elbow her, but she moves her lithe body out of the way. “Hey, apparently he thought I was someone to reckon with.”
She laughs, shaking her head. I’m only five foot three, so any ferocity I have can be likened to a chihuahua’s. “I can’t believe that happened to you,” she says with a sigh. “What a shame, huh? How cool would that have been?”