Page 102 of Thrones We Steal

Where in the world am I going to see Beck tonight? I quickly open my calendar app, but the only thing Maisie has scheduled is dinner in two hours. I’m about to respond when I remember the flowers. They must have been from Beck, not Henry.

I type out a quick reply. Me neither! 7:00 right? x

I’ll be there. xx

He must have moved mountains to get a delivery into the palace and have a car ordered. If he is willing to go to those kinds of lengths to salvage what remains of our relationship, so am I.

The narrow band of disappointment tightening around my chest can go bugger off.

I ring for Daphne and go to my closet to pull out the dress. I know exactly which one he means, but I’m surprised he remembers it. It’s one of my favorites, a draping emerald green number with thin straps that accent my shoulders and lengthen my neck. Once my hair and makeup are done to perfection, thanks to Daphne’s expert hands, I slip into my heels and choose an evening bag.

Tonight is for second chances, and Henry is banned from my thoughts.

I wind my way through the rooms of the palace, lifting the skirt of my dress, and realize my heart feels a little lighter. As I walk through the doorway into the Blue Salon, I smack into a hard body coming from the other direction. I cradle my nose as pain shoots through it. I don’t even need to look up to know who it is. I’d recognize his scent anywhere.

He grabs my arms to stabilize me and pulls back to see my face. “My god, are you okay? I’m so sorry.”

I nod, still rubbing my nose. Tears spring to my eyes involuntarily, the effect of slamming my nose into the brick wall that is Henry’s chest. The thrill coursing through my veins, on the other hand, has nothing to do with that and everything to do with seeing him again.

I am a lunatic. A lunatic and an addict.

“You look incredible,” he says. “Going somewhere?” It’s too early to be coming down for dinner.

“I have a date. With Beck. He’s surprising me.”

His smile is instantaneous and appears genuine. “Have fun.”

“I’m sure we will.”

He moves aside so I can pass, but as I do, he stops me with a hand on my bare arm, his touch lighting my arm on fire, the flames running down my entire body. I turn back.

“You look stunning. That dress brings out the color of your eyes.”

“Thank you,” I say.

“He’s a lucky man.”

* * *

My destination, I soon find, is a private yacht, currently docked, but which, I’m told, will be setting off as soon as I’m on board. I work diligently to keep my jaw from dropping open as I walk up the pier. I’m not entirely successful.

How did Beck do all of this?

The upper deck glows with thousands of twinkle lights, dancing like stars against the black night and sea. Bouquets of hydrangeas gush along the perimeter, their honey-vanilla scent greeting me like an old friend. Waves lap softly at the side of the boat, and a string quartet performs a sweet Mozart melody on the bow.

I’ve stepped into another universe, one in which sadness is not possible.

Beck stands waiting for me with that endearing smile I love stretched across his face. He holds a bouquet of roses. The red of their petals is like blood against the white of the hydrangeas.

“This is absolutely spectacular,” I say as he brings me into the security of his arms, warm and safe. It’s the polar opposite to Henry’s electric touch.

“As spectacular as you are.” After a minute, he pulls back and says, “I’m really sorry for ending things like I did. Truly. I realized the second you left, I’d made a mistake, but it was too late.”

It wasn’t too late, then or now, but I just shush him and rise on tiptoes to kiss his mouth. There are no fireworks, but evidently that isn’t an indication of a healthy, lasting relationship anyway.

The kiss ends, and he smiles. “You look beautiful. Come on, let’s sit down.”

As we set sail, a waiter pours us each a glass of champagne and introduces the menu for the evening. No detail has been overlooked. Soft music drifts across the deck. A different wine accompanies each course, and my favorite dessert, red velvet cake, is served with coffee. Blankets wait invitingly should the evening grow chilly on the water.

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