Page 95 of The Prince Who Loved Me

“Wow.” Rob folded his arms and studied him. “The first time—and probably the only time—I offer to do something for you and you turn it down?”

“Wait.” Sebastien couldn’t let him just leave. “You can do something for me.”

“Man, I should have left when I had the chance.” Rob hoisted himself up on the dryer.

Sebastien snorted out a laugh. “I’m sure it was no secret I didn’t like you when you started sniffing around.”

Rob rubbed his mouth where Sebastien had decked him when he first came to Fountenoy Hall. “Gee, I hadn’t noticed.”

“You’ve also kept my presence here to yourself and didn’t pester me too badly about being a prince.”

“Admittedly, that last one has been really hard. Really, really hard. I don’t think you appreciate just how hard.”

“And the most important thing – you’re good for Wendy.”

“I love her,” Rob said simply.

“Yeah. You do.” Sebastien stood up and extended his hand. “I’m glad to call you my friend, Rob Upshaw.”

“Hey.” Rob took Sebastien’s hand. “Me, too, man.”

“I’m leaving Fountenoy Hall. With all these disruptions, Wendy’s business is going to suffer. I can’t be the cause of that.” He wouldn’t stop trying to reach Brandi, but being here would only cause more problems.

Rob opened his mouth, then closed it again before speaking. “You’re probably right.”

“I want you to tell Wendy for me. I’ll text her later, but if I talk to her in person, she’ll find a way to talk me out of it.”

“Yes, she absolutely would. When are you leaving?”

Sebastien’s phone beeped and he checked to see if it was a message from his bodyman. He held up his phone. “Now.”

Chapter 22

Brandi balanced her weight on her feet next to the tree they used as a makeshift home plate in the orchard, her bat up and ready. The ball whipped by her but she swung anyway, still getting out the aggression from last week.

“You missed,” Jordan said.

She brought the bat up again.

The loss of Sebastien’s friendship was hitting her harder than a line drive in her belly. He had called her, texted her, emailed her in the past week, but she hadn’t answered. All she could hear was the refrain, over and over again, in English but with Sebastien’s voice:You could be right, Father. It was the perfect cumulation of her fears, of everything she’d been feeling.

He had left one of his sketch journals in her room and an envelope with her name written on it. It all went under her bed, unopened. Envelopes never brought good news.

The sad thing was, she had reached for her phone so many times to send him a text about something funny or the profile of a Your Blind Date user, or to tell him about the research she’d done on successful distillery tours, only for that empty part of her to remember what had happened. Instead she texted Paisley or Charlotte. They were probably going to start blocking her number, but she didn’t want Wendy and Jordan to have to choose.

She wasn’t sure whose side they’d be on.

Crumbs, she missed him.

Wendy tossed the ball back to Jordan, who positioned her glove again. “You’re swinging at everything.”

Brandi swung at the air.

“You’re dipping your bat,” Wendy said. “You stopped doing that in high school.”

“There wasn’t anything for me to hit,” Brandi said.

“That’s no excuse for bad habits,” Wendy said primly.