Page 65 of The Princess and the P.I.

They lay in bed for a while, releasing the tension of the day.

She cried over her brother. The news of his calculated murder ripped her wounds open anew.

She cried for her father, his desperation and love for his son.

Even a little bit for her sister, who, Fiona could see now, was trapped in a sad loop of manipulation.

Maurice just held her, breathing in tandem and kissing her tears.

Their legs intertwined underneath the sheets, their foreheads touching. He kept grabbing handfuls of her, like he was testing her solidity, biting her shoulders and rubbing her belly. The intimacy was staggering, and Fiona let a tear slide down her nose.

This lighthearted Maurice, who talked about his childhood fantasy of having Ash from Pokémon as a big brother, was like her in one major aspect. His trust, Fiona realized, was harder to earn than his love.

Sometime in the night—or the day? God, what on earth time is it? —he threw back another shot of Jameson and danced his old uncle dances to old uncle soul music.

“See, this…this is baby-making music, Fiona.” He pulled her up from the bed and wrapped his arms around her. Swaying playfully to the trumpets of Earth, Wind & Fire. Fiona, even with all she had seen and felt today (yesterday?) had never been happier.

Maurice’s blackout curtains kept the room black as pitch, and at some point, he finally drifted off to sleep.

—

She didn’t know if they slept for three days or half an hour, but the abrupt sound of pounding on the door shattered the morning like splinters. Alert, Maurice threw on a shirt to answer. He had barely touched the doorknob when a flood of police officers pushed through the door.

My father.

They’re coming for my father.

Fiona’s stomach plummeted.

Not like this.

Maurice’s words rushed over her.

They won’t stop until they’ve arrested us for something.

But the man’s words surprised her.

“Maurice Bennett, you need to come with us,” the leading officer announced. Fiona recognized him as Tony Ryan. Dark where Maurice was medium, towering where Maurice was once again medium. Detective Ryan ate up the room.

“What’s going on here?” Fiona demanded and shrugged on a nearby smoking jacket.

Detective Ryan looked around at the room then back at her.

“Now, you know I can’t discuss that with you, baby girl,” he said. The way he slid the words ”baby girl” out made Fiona want to return them unopened. Then he turned to Maurice. “I have something you’re going to want to see ASAP.”