Page 79 of Heavy Crown

As much as I hate to admit it, Nick has a point. But my fear that we’ve already gone too far, that she’ll stop seeing me before I’m ready if she realizes, overshadows any logic. A risk I will not take. If there is a chance we can be together, I’m not telling her about Simone. No reason for her to ever know I came so close to betraying her.

“I will take your words under advisement,” I say.

Nick sighs and opens the door to my office. He lets Julia exit first, and then he gives me a long look. “Don’t make her hate you. Trust me—you don’t want to go down that path.”

Then he’s gone, and I’m alone in my office with my dark thoughts. If I can’t marry her, perhaps having her hate me will be a blessing for both of us.

thirty

Rory

Alex appears at my door, and even from the couch, I sense his dour mood. He dismisses Stella, and instead of coming to sit with me, he putters around my kitchen, searching for scraps of my baking.

“Midnight brownies on the bottom shelf of the third cupboard on your right,” I say.

He glances at me and opens the door I indicated. The top pops off the container. “Thanks,” he mutters.

“Not a good day at work for your seventh day in a row?” Apparently I am going to bring up his workaholic tendencies.

“Only seven days in a row?” he asks between brownie bites. “Thought it was more like fourteen or thirty-six or...” He lifts his gaze to the ceiling. “Twelve thousand and forty-five.”

That is not a math equation I’m going to attempt, but it sounds like he just calculated his whole life. I adjust the blanket over my shoulders and shake my head. “Most people at least take the occasional day off.”

“I am not most people.” He dusts off his hands and flicks on the kettle.

“If—or when or however this whole royal thing works—you decide to have a family, you might need to adjust your work-life balance. You know... so it’s balanced.” I scrape my hair back and settle deeper into the couch.

“Definitely not in the mood to discuss what my life could be like if only I were better at managing it.” His shoulders are tense at the kitchen island, and his back is turned to me.

I’m not feeling well, and he’s clearly in a pissy mood. No doubt we’re going to end up fighting. With other men, I’ve tended toward docile and pleasing. Confrontation was a big no-no. Whatever they wanted, I rolled over and did. Even when my relationship with my parents was on the line, I didn’t argue with Derrick, I gave in. Of course, I never expected them to truly cut me out. Misjudged that one.

However, Alex and I have a strange dynamic. While it feels as though I’m the one pursuing him, I haven’t worried he’ll stop coming around or cut me off. Even earlier today when he held my hair while I puked, I didn’t worry that would repel him enough to stop appearing on my doorstep. Embarrassing? Yes. Doom us? No. I’ve hidden much of myself from other men in a bid to please them and never realized. Not once have I hidden any aspect of myself from Alex. He gets the unvarnished truth.

“You’re in a shitty mood,” I say.

“Indeed.” Alex glances at me over his shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

“Weak. Queasy. But I’ve stopped throwing up every hour on the hour. So I’ll take that as a win.”

He dips his tea bag into his cup at the island. “Tea?”

“Probably the last thing I need is something to keep me awake.”

“You’ve got that terrible chamomile sleep tea in your cupboard too.”

“Ooh. Yes. Do I dare try it?”

He shrugs. “Already held your hair back once today. Perhaps we can go for the hat trick by the end of the night.”

“Goals,” I say. “Gotta have ’em.”

A hint of a smile tugs at his lips. “You’re in a mood as well. I’ll chalk it up to food poisoning.”

“I’ll risk the tea,” I say.

He makes me a cup in silence, and then he sets it on the coffee table beside me. “Your vile-tasting tea.”

I leave it to cool beside me. “Tell me why you’re in such a terrible mood,” I say.