Page 41 of Royal Rising

When I finally emerge, I keep my head down as Edie stews, storming her way around the bar prep, snapping at Dillon when he asks about Wordle.

I give her time and space because fixing things with women has never been my strong suit. But when she keeps answering me with one-word answers, I can’t take it anymore.

I come up beside her when she’s cutting up limes at the bar and brush her shoulder with mine. “Don’t be mad at me,” I say in a quiet voice.

She turns, still with fire in her eyes. “And who should I be mad at, then?”

“Don’t be mad at all. Dad said stuff and I didn’t know what to think and you’rehere, you’ve always been here—”

“You want to marry me because I’mhere? You know you’re only making it worse.”

Dillon lifts his head from his tablet where he’s playing online Scrabble. “What’s this now?”

I shake my head at him.Later, I mouth but he keeps his attention on us. “I know. I know I’m making it bad, but the kids can’t handle it when Mom and Dad fight.” I smile winningly at Edie, putting every ounce of charm that Lyra says I have into it, and nod to the other side of the bar where Tyler and Bethie are staring at us with trepidation.

“I’m allowed to be mad at you,” Edie insists. I don’t know if it’s the concern of Bethie and Tyler, the undivided attention of Dillon, or maybe even my smile that takes away most of the fire in her eyes.

“You are allowed, but you won’t be.” Another grin. “I’m irresistible.”

“You’re really not.”

Taking that as an opportunity, I step behind her and wrap my arms around her slim waist. Edie is tall but I have the Erickson height, so my chin rests on the top of her head. “That was…” I stumble for a moment over what word to use before giving up. I’ve never been a wordsmith. “I don’t know what that was, but I know I made you unhappy and for that I’m very sorry.”

Edie rests a hand on my arm. “I don’t know what it was either.”

“You’re my best friend,” I say into the top of her head.

“Oh, I know.”

“You might be my only friend.”

“Oh, I know that, too.” She squeezes my forearm, her thumb rubbing circles on the inside of my arm, and I wonder if I should be alarmed at how much her touch soothes me. At how comfortable it feels to have my arms around her, pressing into her back.

She fits. Edie fits with me.

“I know I shouldn’t be mad,” Edie begins hesitantly, “but that felt callous. Kind of selfish. Like… like I don’t matter to you.”

“You matter,” I insist. “A lot. A whole lot of a lot.”

I keep my arms around her because it feels good. Being this close to Edie always feels good, but this seems different. I like the way she leans back against me, her head against my chest. How her thumb keeps stroking my arm.

How she smells like strawberries and coconut because I know what kind of shampoo she uses.

I really like how her breathing matches mine, deep and easy. Content.

Being around Edie is easy—

It’s more than that. I’m aware of the softness of her stomach where my hand rests against it. It would be simple to brush my lips against the top of her head, to tuck her hair behind her ear, the tiny diamond studs I gave her for her thirtieth birthday gleaming in the overhead light of the bar. To trail my mouth down to her cheek, sliding across to her—

“Maj, what time do you want me back for tonight?” Dillon asks me.

Edie stiffens and pushes my hands away. I step back, feeling unsteady, like I’ve had too much to drink.

What just happened there?

“Sorry, did I interrupt a little moment there?’ Dillon asks with a strange look in his eyes.

“No,” Edie says at the same time I open my mouth as if to say, “Yeah, I think you did.”

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