Page 58 of Thrones We Steal

My smile is melting under the inferno of their chants like an ice cream cone on a hot July day. If we wait long enough, they will eventually give up.

The crowd, however, does not share this idea. Instead, they increase in momentum and volume, now adding clapping to their raucous chants.

“They’re undeterred,” Henry says as though I’m a toddler, illiterate to social cues.

If I give in, at least they’ll stop yelling, and we can be released from this mortifying situation. I can deal with the fallout. We’re married now. A tiny peck won’t destroy anything.

“Fine,” I say through my teeth. “But make it quick. None of that stuff you pulled last time.”

He grins and angles his body toward me. The people start going wild when they realize their demands are about to be met. Wolf-whistles and cheers ricochet through the air as Henry cups my face in his large hands. My heart begins a high speed chase with itself the instant his skin touches mine.

Slowly, he bends over me until his lips catch mine and leads them in a soft, sensual dance. He slips one hand behind my back, then swings me backwards, much to the pleasure of the crowd.

It’s a gentle kiss, the kind you’d expect on a first date. He raises me back up and smiles, a taffy-sweet smile that’s only for me. I know this because it’s not on his mouth but folded into the creases around his eyes where only I can see it. And just for a second, I see the Henry I used to know.

Despite the fact that this was a public kiss between mature adults rather than two lust-driven teenagers under the bleachers at a soccer game, it still leaves me breathless. For a span of five seconds, I existed in the center of the rainbow.

“You just became even more envied and adored than you were,” he says. “You’re welcome.”

He releases me back into a world now drained of its color.

* * *

Our limo pulls away from the curb, the cheers of the people still audible through the thick windows. Henry twists the shiny gold band on his ring finger. “Well, we did it. You okay?”

I stare out the window. The trees droop heavy from the rain, and their leaves glisten with droplets of water that dribble to the ground in synchronized movements. The ground is soggy with their offerings.

“I will be,” I say quietly.

The silence hangs like a forgotten melody, thick and oppressive, keeping peace just out of reach. I sense Henry’s fidgeting in the seat beside me.

“C.” That single letter holds concern.

“I’m fine.”

“We did the right thing.”

“Did we?”

“Of course we did.”

“Beck wanted me to run away with him.”

He’s quiet for a few moments, then: “Did you consider it?”

“Yes.” I trace the trail of a raindrop on the window.

“What stopped you?”

“My father.”

“Hey.” He reaches for my hand that has unwittingly clasped my bracelet. “Your father would have been proud of whichever decision you made.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Your dad loved you more than anything.” He stops and I hear him swallow. “I often wished—”

I move my head enough to see him in my peripheral vision. “You wished what?” I ask when he doesn’t continue.

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