He rubs his palms down his tattooed thighs, seems to catch himself, and crosses his arms over his bare chest instead.
Peggy rubs against me, meows, and then leaps into Davis’s lap.
I stare at the man while I attempt to process everything he’s just said.
If he’s right—if this is true—Tillie Jean.
My god.
Tillie Jean would have half of her life ripped out from beneath her. Being mayor of Shipwreck, continuing on the traditions and the folklore—that’s what she was born to do.
And Grady being Shipwreck’s baker. And Cooper being Shipwreck’s public spokesperson.
This is their history.
Their heritage.
Who they are.
And Annika—Annika, who grew up in Sarcasm—what would Annika say?
Fuck history.
That’s what Annika would say because she loves Grady more than she loves town feuds and more than she cares which pirate founded which town.
I think.
I hope.
For once, Davis doesn’t look at me. “You can’t tell your friends.”
“Absolutely not. Are you?—”
“Yes, I’m serious, and yes, I’m sure.”
“How?”
“Research. Tracing genealogical lines. Old paintings. Drawings. Gossip sheets and newspapers from London from before Thorny Rock left on his adventures. His real name was William George. Third son of a baron. Failed military career. Prone to drinking too much and fucking too much and losing his temper too much.”
“Oh my god, Annika’s mom’s last name is Williams.”
“No relation. But her boyfriend probably is.”
“How do you know?”
He sighs and frowns down at Peggy like he doesn’t realize he’s been petting her. “Research. Tracing genealogical lines…”
So this is what dumbfounded feels like. “Are you sure?”
“Already been over this.”
“Butsuresure?”
“I like Shipwreck, Sloane. Fun town. Brings good things to the world. People here treat me like a normal guy. They don’t take my picture and sell it to the tabloids.”
I flinch.
I took his picture and told my family he was my boyfriend.
