He was gone.
CHAPTER 15
THE RIDE
Late the next afternoon, the girls having left earlier to make their train, I left it until Battle had navigated London traffic (he needed his concentration) in his red Audi Q8, and we were on the M4, before I launched in.
“Right, François is a scream,” I told him.
“Sorry?” he asked.
“Prue’s favorite designer,” I explained. “She called him to tell him we were showing. He had champagne and caviar waiting for us, which is gross, by the way. The caviar, I mean.”
“Mm,” he hummed with amusement.
“It was like the Princess of Wales showed up to try on his wild creations. Prue was so stunned. She had no idea he loved her from afar for so long.”
“Loved her from afar?”
That held no amusement.
Zip.
Nada.
None.
“He’s very gay, Battle, so don’t get all brotherly.”
Battle said nothing, though I noted he relaxed.
Such a good brother.
But maybe, in some instances, an overbearing one.
Though, maybe that was the way all good brothers were.
“I think she dropped four thousand pounds in there,” I informed him. “Four hundred on this crazy black knit beanie with all these curled bits coming down. It looks like an octopus. It suits her to perfection.”
He chuckled before saying, “Perhaps why he greeted you with champagne.”
“Maybe part of it,” I allowed. “But he still adores her. I guess they’ve been corresponding a little bit after she became a regular of his online store. It was really cool to see her appreciated like that. I wish you could have seen it.”
“Me as well,” he murmured. Then, “How was Chassie?”
“Okay. Better at the gardens yesterday. But okay.”
“I noted what you said over dinner last night. She seemed preoccupied.”
She did.
“Agreed.”
“But not traumatized.”
“Agreed to that too.”
“We’ll have to see,” he muttered, the concern evident.
