“Trying to catch flies?” he asked wryly.
I blinked and closed my mouth. I hadn’t realized I’d been staring, but Theo watched me with a smirk. I rolled my eyes, shoving past him and making sure to elbow him hard, not speaking the entire way to the garden.
When we reached the garden, he stood beside me, just a little behind, like the good bodyguard he pretended he was.
In the garden, women were dressed in flowing white dresses with feathery white fans, and swans floated in the fountains—PETA loved this party. There was an empty seat at the table where Grandpa would have been seated, I noted with an ache.
The ocean was dark. Twinkling lights floated like fireflies. Swans glowed in the backlit fountain and feathered their wings, drops of water flying as diamonds before disappearing into the night.
By the maze, hidden somewhat but the tall hedges, I spotted servants setting up fireworks. If there’s one thing a Crowne loves, it’s fireworks. We do them all summer long, culminating in a huge show at our Fourth party.
“I thought you would’ve pulled an Abby by now,” Theo said quietly. No one would’ve known he was talking to me. “You know, started a scene, thrown a few priceless vases.”
I looked at him out of the side of my eyes, then back at the party.
He took a drink, then paused, looking at his water. “Did you put salt in my drink?”
A small smile curved my lips.
I had.
“Your revenge is very Home Alone.”
It wasn’t my revenge, of course, but I couldn’t resist the urge when he’d left his glass unattended. There’d been a time when he’d done the same to me. I’d told him I’d get him back.
That was a month before Gemma… I never got the chance.
Anguish strangled my heart.
“That’s not even clever…” He pulled out an ice cube, shaking off stray water. “I did it first, Abby.”
My eyes popped, but before I could even think about the fact he remembered our pranks, ice was pressed against my lower back, dripping a cold trail. I tilted my head to see. His hand had disappeared inside the open back of my dress, and his hand must be holding the ice cube.
I shifted, the spot where he pressed burning cold.
Theo arched a brow. “Something wrong?”
I refused to capitulate, instead focusing on the empty chair where my grandfather would have sat.
Grandpa was the one person who paid attention to my Christmas list, the only one who checked in on me after another tabloid fiasco. I thought he was my constant. In the end, though, Theo only proved what I already knew, love is conditional. Some people were obvious about their strings, but everyone has them. If you love someone, it’s only a matter of time until they take it away.
As if she knew I was thinking about parental neglect, my mom appeared. Dressed to the nines as always in a bespoke, flowing white dress that may as well have been haute couture.
She eyed my outfit. “What are you wearing?”
I swallowed, the ice dripping down my ass, sliding deeper. “A dress.”
Her frown deepened. “Sarcasm isn’t clever or cute, Abigail.”
“But it…” Melted ice inched closer and closer. “Is…” Farther down between my lips. “Efficient.”
Theo laughed, so low only I heard him. He glided the melting cube down my dress, hand slipping inside my panties, along
my ass, until he had the ice pressed cold to my lips.
“And where is your fan?” my mom asked.
“Uh…” I couldn’t focus, looking around, wondering if people could see what was happening. Theo stared forward, at my back like the good bodyguard he was pretending to be, meanwhile he was spreading me wide with a freezing-cold ice cube.