Bridget
The next fewweeks were miserable, not only because I was sick and healing from my injuries, but because the lull in my public schedule gave me plenty of time to freak out about Nikolai’s abdication.
I was going to be queen. Maybe not tomorrow or a month from now, but one day, and one day was far too soon.
I lifted my wineglass to my lips and stared up at the night sky. It was three weeks to the day since my conversation with Nikolai.
My concussion had healed, and I’d long since recovered from my cold. I still had to be careful with my wrist, but otherwise, I was up and running again, which meant I had to attend meeting after meeting about how and when to announce the abdication, how to handle the fallout, plans for my permanent move back to Eldorra, and a million other things that made my head spin.
That morning, my family, Markus, and I agreed on an official announcement a month from now. Or rather, everyone else agreed, and I went along with it because I didn’t have a choice.
One month. One more month of freedom, and that was it.
I was about to take another drink when the door to the rooftop creaked open. I straightened, my mouth falling open when I saw Rhys step outside. Judging by the way his eyebrows shot up, he was as surprised to see me as I was him.
“What are you doing here?” we asked at the same time.
I huffed out a small laugh. “Mr. Larsen, this is my house. I should be the only one asking that question.”
“I didn’t think anyone came out here.” He took the seat next to me, and I tried not to notice how good he smelled, like soap and something indescribably Rhys. Clean, simple, masculine.
We were on the rooftop of one of the palace’s north towers, which could only be accessed via the service hallway near the kitchen. Compared to the palace’s actual, terraced rooftop garden, it was nothing, barely big enough for the chairs I’d bribed a staff member to help me bring up. But that was why I liked it. It was my secret haven, the place I escaped to when I needed to think and be away from prying eyes.
I drained the rest of my wine and reached for the bottle at my feet, only to realize it was empty. I rarely drank so much, but I needed something to ease the anxiety following me around like a black cloud these days.
“Just me. Most people don’t know about this place,” I said. “How did you find it?”
“I find everything.” Rhys smirked when I scrunched my nose at his arrogance. “I have the palace blueprints, princess. I know every nook and cranny of this place. It’s my—”
“Job,” I finished. “I know. You don’t have to keep saying it.”
He’d said the same thing in Dr. Hausen’s office. I wasn’t sure why it annoyed me so much. Maybe because, for a second, I could’ve sworn his worry for me went beyond his professional obligations. And maybe, for a second, I could’ve sworn I wanted it to. I wanted him to care about me as me, not as his client.
Rhys’s lips quirked before his gaze traveled to my forehead. “How’s the bruise?”
“Fading, thank the Lord.” It was now a pale yellowish green. Still unsightly, but better than the glaring purple it used to be. “And it doesn’t hurt so much anymore.”
“Good.” He brushed his fingers gently over the bruise, and my breath stuttered. Rhys never touched me unless he had to, but at that moment, he didn’t have to. Which meant he wanted to. “You gotta be more careful, princess.”
“You’ve said that already.”
“I’ll keep saying it until you get it in your head.”
“Trust me. It’s in my head. How can it not be when you keep nagging me?”
Despite my grumbles, I found a strange comfort in his nagging. In a world where everything else was changing, Rhys remained wonderfully, unrelentingly him, and I never wanted that to change.
His hand lingered on my forehead for another moment before he dropped it and pulled away, and oxygen returned to my lungs.
“So.” Rhys leaned back and laced his fingers behind his head. He didn’t look at me as he asked, “Who do you usually bring up here?”
“What?” I cocked my head, confused. I never brought anyone up here.
“Two chairs.” He nodded at mine, then the one he was sitting in. “Who’s the second one for?” His tone was casual, but a tight current ran beneath it.
“No one. There are two chairs because…” I faltered. “I don’t know. I guess I hoped I’d find someone I wanted to bring up here one day.” I had silly, romantic notions of me and mystery guy sneaking up here to kiss and laugh and talk all night, but the chances of that were growing slimmer by the minute.
“Hmm.” Rhys was silent for a second before he said, “You want me to leave?”
“What?” I sounded like a broken record.
Maybe the hit to my head had scrambled my brains because I’d never been this inarticulate.
“Seems like this is your secret spot. Didn’t realize I was intruding when I came up here,” he said gruffly.
Something warm cascaded through my stomach. “You’re not intruding,” I said. “Stay. Please. I could use the company.”
“Okay.”
And that was that.
I couldn’t hold back a smile. I didn’t think I would enjoy sharing this space with anyone else, but I liked having Rhys here with me. He didn’t feel the need to fill the silence with unnecessary small talk, and his presence comforted me, even if he irritated me, too. When he was near, I was safe.
I stretched my legs out and accidentally knocked over the empty wine bottle, which rolled across the floor toward Rhys. I bent to pick it up at the same time he did, and our fingers brushed for a second.
No, not even a second. A millisecond. But it was enough to send electricity sizzling up my arm and down my spine.
I yanked my hand away, my skin hot, as he picked up the bottle and placed it on the other side of his chair, away from both our legs.
Our brief touch felt indecent, like we were doing something we weren’t supposed to do. Which was ridiculous. We hadn’t even planned it. It was an accident.
You’re overthinking.