Page 22 of The Prodigal Prince

“I’m staying with my son. If you’d like to sleep in the next room, that’s fine with me, just stay there.” She also glared at him before going through the door.

Mac simply nodded as she disappeared.

He stared at the door as it closed.

He’d stay in his own room, but this could get interesting.

7

The ceiling in the bedroom Mac occupied looked like every other ceiling in that it looked like no other ceiling ever.

It had been a very long time since he’d been impressed by the ornate ceilings found in almost every room. In that, this room was no different.

He stared up at it, his mind wandering as he didn’t even try to sleep.

When he woke up nearly twenty-four hours earlier, he never could have imagined he’d be sleeping in the Sargassian palace with Fiona and his son in the next room and his sister across the apartment.

Life could be so surreal.

A whisper of a sound caught his attention, but Mac couldn’t place where it came from. He lay still, allowing his senses to absorb any changes - a sound, the feel of the air moving from a door opening or closing, the smell of a change in scent, a movement caught in the corner of his eye.

“Mac?”

Or maybe the loud whisper from Fiona.

“Are you asleep?”

Giving her a hard time crossed his mind briefly, but Mac instinctively knew it wouldn’t be a good idea.

“No.” He sat up and turned toward her. “You can’t sleep either?”

In the dim light, he could see her shake her head, blonde hair more visible in the low light than his dark hair would be.

“My brain won’t turn off,” she admitted as she walked toward the window.

“Still?”

She stopped in her tracks. “You remember that?”

Mac swung his legs over the side of the bed. “I remember you sitting on the balcony watching the waves in the moonlight.”

Fiona gave a half-smile. “Probably with a cup of tea.”

A chuckle escaped. “You loved that cup of tea.”

“How do you know?” There wasn’t any accusation about the brevity of the time they spent together. Rather, her tone hinted at pure curiosity.

“The way you closed your eyes and inhaled the scent, smiled, and sighed. You were clearly quite smitten with your beverage of choice.”

She gave him glance she couldn’t quite interpret, but continued toward the window. “Yes. I love tea. And yes, I’ve always had a hard time getting my mind to shut down, especially after a big day like this one has been.”

“Does the tea help?”

Fiona shrugged. “It might have. I haven’t had a cup in a long time. I’m not sure why, just sort of drifted away from it.”

Mac stood and followed her toward the window. She pushed the curtain back enough that she could see out, but it was unlikely anyone could see in, if anyone was looking.

They stood there for several minutes before she broke the silence. “Does your sister know?”

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