The Royal and the Rebel (Royally Pitched 2)

“Sorry,” he said, meeting Jalissa’s stare.

“I have to leave. I will expect to hear of your plans for surgery.”

Rowan nodded, like she expected. She came to him and dispensed kisses to the top of his head. Then, Juliana stood. Jalissa grabbed Juliana’s shoulder in an oddly familiar way. He supposed there were protocols for touching royalty, but Juliana didn’t seem to care. She relished the attention, her whole being engaged by his mother’s touch.

“Thank you for taking care of him. It might not be clear to you, but I can see he is more optimistic with you here.”

Yeah, right.

“You certainly appear to be able to handle him but know you can call me if you need a break.”

Rowan rolled his eyes and shifted impatiently in his seat. “I’m right here,” he stated.

Jalissa waved him off. “Good-bye, dear. It was lovely to meet you.”

Then, she leaned forward and embraced Juliana. Rowan bristled at this turn of events. He didn’t need these two women to connect. His mother was one of those warm souls. If people were a color based on their true heart, his mother would be a soothing buttery yellow—all sunshine and comfort. Rowan was afraid he was the iciest silver.

When the door closed, Juliana moved away from him and perched on the edge of the sofa across the room. She leaned forward, dropping her elbows onto her knees and clasping her hands in front of her.

“So,” she said, leveling him with a look, “how long do we have to continue to play out this charade?”

And damn if that wasn’t a question for the ages.