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As I said on the flight from Gatwick to Algarve, then again later, Eliza and I had shopped both at the resort and in town, buying her things she could keep here. I’d added to her purchases, surprising her with sexy lingerie, which she was happy to model for me, and bikinis she would also put on but refused to venture outside in.
“I hope we can return soon.”
I stepped back and looked into her eyes. “Do you?”
She cocked her head. “Does that surprise you?”
I sat down in the chair she’d occupied and pulled her onto my lap. “I assumed you’d want to be in Brighton as much as possible.”
El rested her head on my shoulder. “Creativity doesn’t come on demand. There are times when the best thing an artist can do is let a piece rest, get a fresh perspective, and when they return to it, they’ll better know what it needs.”
I nodded. “Your time there will also allow you to see your cousin and his wife.”
She kissed my cheek. “Thank you for that, Levi. I appreciate you knowing how important that is to me.”
Apart from the night she’d told me what Saint did for her parents, she hadn’t spoken of them, yet she’d asked many questions about my family.
“What about visiting London?”
“I should. Now, I regret giving my tenants notice. At least then, I was notified if anything was amiss. Plus, I’ll need to figure out what to do about my car.”
“Your car?”
“The reason I needed a ride the night Harper had surgery was because the bloody thing wouldn’t start.”
“You should’ve told me. I could’ve arranged for someone to look at it.”
She shrugged. “It may be a lost cause. I doubt it would survive many trips back and forth from Brighton.”
I raised a brow, and she giggled.
“Yes, my protector, you may assess the decrepit SUV that sits in my garage.”
“You can always use my car.”
Her eyes opened wide. “I don’t think I could drive it. The steering wheel is on the wrong side.”
“You’re amusing,” I said, tickling her until she begged me to stop. I did only because she also begged me to make love to her.
The morning we left, I took El up to the rooftop. It had been too cold and windy to do previously.
“Come over here,” I said, leading her to the railing on the side of the house closest to the ocean.
“The view is spectacular.”
“It is, but look down.”
“Oh! It is a blackbird.”
The shape of the overhang on the main floor so closely resembled a bird that the construction workers started calling my house melro—which was the Portuguese word for the bird El mentioned.
I’d arranged for a car for El to be delivered to Brighton as well as a place for us to stay temporarily while she got things settled at her studio.
I’d spent most of the flight worried she might not appreciate my choice of vehicle or the flat I’d let sight unseen. However, my concern about both was for naught.
She’d squealed in delight when we drove up to the flat and I told her the Range Rover in front was hers. She had the same joyous response as we toured the flat that sat two blocks from her studio and fronted the beach.
“Are you sure I haven’t overstepped?” I asked.