Page 16 of Scarred Crown

“Do you really think your future wife will be cool with us hanging out all the time?”

“If she’s not okay with it, I can guarantee she’s not my future wife. Besides I’m not sure I’ll ever get married.”

“Really?”

“I barely tolerate people, and I don’t know about subjecting anyone to my life. I might not be the future king, but the royal title’s not that simple, is it?” He shrugs. “Even if I did get married, I can’t see it happening until I’m forty or fifty. I’ll be the silver fox.” He waggles his eyebrows at me.

“I swear to God, if you’re fifty and try to marry some twenty-five-year-old model, we won’t be able to be friends anymore whether or not she likes me.”

“Twenty-six is cool, though?” He ruffles my hair.

“Ugh. Don’t be that guy.”

“Which guy would you like me to be?”

“This guy.” I ruffle his hair in return. “Don’t ever change, okay?”

“Got it. Remain stagnant for the rest of my life. Sounds easy, actually. Could probably manage that.”

I laugh and sip my wine.

We fall into a companionable silence with small bursts of pointing out a streak in the sky while we drink.

“Won’t your parents make you get married at some point?” I ask. A vague memory from my Bellerive history class surfaces.

“In theory, Bellerive Royalty can be married off via arranged marriage any day after their thirtieth birthday if they haven’t managed to make a love match.” Nick gulps his wine. “I’ll be counting on you to save me in that situation, Jensen.”

“Save you?”

“You’ll have to marry me. Keep me out of trouble.”

My heart kicks. Nick. Mine. Forever. I search his face, but it’s brimming with sincerity. “Why would you marry me?”

“Why not? I know I can tolerate large doses of you. To be fair, there’s at least one thing you haven’t mastered from my wish list. I always expected any wife of mine would be able to read a clock. Sort of a vital life skill.”

“Tonight was not my fault.” I slap his chest, and he grunts.

“How about the fifty thousand other times?”

“Hyperbole.”

“Barely.”

“Oh, look!” I point to the sky.

“Distracting me from the point with pretty things.”

“Isn’t that my line?” I tease.

“Will be if we get married. I’ll shower you with jewels.”

“You’ll need to. Marrying you would be a tremendous sacrifice.”

“Becoming a princess is such a hardship.” He scoffs.

“We both know according to Bellerive custom, I would not be a princess.”

“True. You’d have to marry Alex to get that title.” He chuckles. “Whoever does that deserves more than jewels. She might need to be heavily medicated.”