Page 40 of Royal Bargain
I stare at her for a moment, heart tight in my chest.
She doesn’t think less of me for struggling.
She thinks I’m worth helping.
“Yeah,” I say, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Okay. That sounds… amazing.”
Lily lets out a tiny sigh, her fingers unclenching as she fully drifts off. I glance down at her, then at Annika. “Think she’s out enough to put down?”
Annika smiles, and it’s soft in a way that makes my chest ache. “Let’s try.”
We move together, quiet and careful, and I lower Lily into the bassinet with both of us hovering like she might wake at the slightest sound. But she stays asleep, her face relaxed in that milk-drunk baby way that somehow makes all the chaos worth it.
Annika tugs a light blanket over her and lingers for just a second, brushing a gentle hand over Lily’s dark curls.
Then we drift back to the couch, both of us moving slower now, like neither one of us wants to break the calm that’s settled between us.
I grab my tablet from the cluttered coffee table and hand it to her, rubbing the back of my neck. “You really think you can untangle the disaster that is my to-do list?”
She raises an eyebrow, already scrolling through it. “Oh, baby. This is nothing.” She says it like a challenge, like she’s about to wage war on my chaos and absolutely win.
She curls her legs beneath her and starts asking questions—what tasks are urgent, what’s flexible, who I can delegate things to. I answer, half in a daze, watching her work. Her fingers move fast, her expression focused, and I realize I’ve never seen her look this at ease. It’s like she’s slipping into her element, reshaping my mess into something that actually makes sense.
“I color-coded the priorities,” she says, handing the tablet back after a few minutes. “I split your campaign stuff from the family obligations. Everything that can be moved is in blue.”
I glance down at the screen, blinking. “How the hell did you do this so fast?”
She gives a small shrug, lips twitching like she’s trying not to smile. “Told you—I like organizing. Makes things feel less tricky.”
I’m still staring at the screen when she nudges me lightly with her shoulder.
“You’re not a screw-up, Liam,” she says quietly. “You’re trying. That counts for something. It counts for a lot.”
I look over at her, throat tight. There’s something in her expression—gentle and steady—that makes it hard to breathe. Like she sees something in me I’ve been too scared to believe in myself.
I don’t even know what I’m doing, exactly—maybe it’s the hour, maybe it’s just her—but I reach out. Slowly. Just in case she needs space.
She doesn’t move.
Our lips meet in a soft, lingering kiss. No urgency. No fire. Just something solid and warm, like the start of a promise.
We stay like that for a beat too long, foreheads resting together, her fingers curled loosely in the hem of my shirt. My hands are still cradling her face like I’m afraid she might vanish if I let go.
Her eyes flutter open, searching mine—and just like that, I’m gone again. Wanting her. All of her. The fire and the fear and the brilliant mess in between.
I stroke my thumb across her cheek. “Do you wanna go upstairs?”
15
ANNIKA
For a long beat, I just look at him.
The question hangs in the space between us—quiet, steady, heavier than it should be.Do you want to go upstairs?
He’s not pushing. Not pleading. Just offering, open and careful, like he’s holding his heart in both hands and hoping I won’t crush it. And maybe, for the first time in longer than I care to admit, I don’t want to run.
I nod—barely. But it’s enough. He sees it. He always sees me.
