I nod. “I moved here for work. To be honest, since I’m kind of in charge of my mother, I thought it would be a better place for her. Victoria is lovely, but it’s still a city, and I wanted someplace quiet and peaceful.”
Harrison grimaces. “I guess it’s been anything but that lately.”
“Not really. But I suppose a little change never hurt anyone.”
“And your father? I remember you saying he left when you were a teenager.”
I swallow thickly and nod. It doesn’t necessarily hurt to talk about it, but it’s not my favorite subject. “He did. I was fourteen.”
“Amicable divorce?”
I laugh bitterly. “No. Otherwise I wouldn’t have said he skipped out. Because that’s what he did. Just straight up one day didn’t want to deal with me or my mother anymore. She was too much for him, always so dependent and paranoid. In some ways I don’t blame him, but he took a vow for better or for worse, and when she got worse, he decided to leave us. I mean, he knew when he married her what she was like. My mother has always battled with her mental issues. Her own parents were abusive; I don’t even know them, never met them. So it wasn’t like my dad didn’t know what he was getting into.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. It is what it is.”
“Sisters, brothers?”
“Only child. So taking care of my mother became my responsibility. You can imagine that after that, she took a turn for the worse. Meanwhile, my dad is now remarried and lives in Toronto. My stepmother, his new wife, had kids from a previous marriage, so he’s just busy being a father to them and not to me. Whatever. I’m over it.”
I can feel Harrison’s eyes on me from behind his sunglasses. “Not an easy thing to get over.”
He’s called my bluff. Obviously I’m not over it. All the therapy sessions I’ve had, and I’m still not over it.
The scenery along the road changes from the dark, towering hemlock and fir to open fields and vineyards. The sky widens above us, this saturated blue, as the car coasts down the hill past olive groves and pastures dotted with sheep. This is probably my favorite part of the island.
I roll the window down and breathe in the air, wind messing with my hair. I grin, press my foot to the gas, and the car zips down faster. It feels like I’m flying.
When we finally get to the bottom, zooming past the turnoff to the local brewery, I glance over at Harrison. He’s staring at me.
“What?” I ask him.
“Nothing,” he says after a moment.
We get to the ferry terminal just in the nick of time. They don’t leave every hour and I wasn’t sure we’d make this one, but we manage to roll onto the ferry a minute before it’s due to leave.
This ferry is small with an open car deck. There’s nowhere really to go except a small lounge area and some outside upper decks, but that’s okay since it’s only a thirty-five-minute sailing.
“Want to take a walk?” I ask him once we’re parked and the ship starts to pull away.
“Yes,” he says, and I can hear the relief in his voice. He manages to unfold his large frame from the car and get out.
I get out from my side, and we work our way through the lanes of cars, the ferry packed at this time of year, and then head to the upper deck. We stop by the railing and stare out at the harbor as the ferry chugs along, passing immaculate, secluded houses with ocean views and tiny scenic islands that make up the thirty-five-minute passage.
The wind messes up my hair, making it swirl around my face, but I don’t care. I close my eyes and breathe in the fresh, salty air.
Then I feel Harrison step closer to me.
His fingers brush against my cheeks, gently pushing my hair back behind my ears until I can see again.
And all I see is him.
“You looked like you needed some help,” he says. He says it so simply, it’s like he has no idea that his touch unleashed a kaleidoscope of butterflies inside me.
“Hey!” a sharp, obnoxious voice yells, shattering the fragile moment between us.
I turn to see some heavyset, thirtysomething guy with a camera approaching me, trucker cap on backward. “You’re that girl!”
I stare at him, my heart racing because he’s coming up pretty loud and pretty fast, and I have no idea who this man is.
Harrison spares no time. In a flash, he’s putting his frame in front of me, one hand reaching back, signaling for me to stay behind him.
“Back off,” Harrison growls at the man.
“She’s the girl! She’s one of the royals.”
Despite the situation, I can’t help but laugh. “I’m a royal? You must be blind.”