Page 43 of The Sovereign: Part One
“Oh, for Chiron’s sake.”My voice broke as I covered my face again, pushing back the tears threatening to fall.It wasn’t embarrassment.I was angry with myself.Ashamed.
“Isara,” he said again.When I didn’t answer, he bent down, gripped the leg of my chair, and pulled me next to him in one swift motion.
He wrapped both arms around me and squeezed.“My love, there is nothing you could say to hurt me except that you don’t want me anymore.There’s nothing you could do to make me not want a life with you.The moment we met?The look on your face?It was everything I was feeling, and I was so relieved to see the same amalgamation of emotion in your eyes.To see your excitement, your nerves, your certainty, your unspoken questions.When we kissed, the way you grabbed me, pulled me closer?I’ll never forget it.Each of those moments is a gift I’ll never take for granted.”
I looked up at him over my fingers, the embarrassment finally setting in.
“This,” he said, pulling my hands down, “hurts me.Please don’t feel ashamed.”
“Please stop being so nice.”
“Absolutely not.I was made to protect you, take care of you, and that includes your heart.”He pulled back just enough to look into my eyes.“It doesn’t matter how or why.What matters is that I’m here, and that I’m yours.”He gently lifted my chin.“Right?”
I cupped his cheek with my palm, letting my thumb brush over his skin before pressing my lips to his.We sat in the middle of the café, surrounded by a society that frowned on excessive public displays of affection, but in that moment, I didn’t care.All I wanted was to hold on to him, to exist in this space where nothing else mattered.
“Wow,” he said, breathless.“Remind me to monologue more often.”
I could only manage a small laugh.“I never want you to feel hurt because of me.I never want you to feel less than everything you are to me, because it couldn’t be further from the truth.I’ve wanted you my whole”—I had to take a breath—“life, Maxim.And even in my most hopeful, most idealized visions, I couldn’t have imagined just how perfect you’d truly be.”
He pressed a lingering kiss to my temple before wrapping me in his arms, creating a barrier between us and the watchful eyes in the café.“Be happy,” he said softly against my skin.“That’s all I ever want from you.”
I nodded against his chest, feeling safer than I ever had before, wrapped in his absolute assurance.
We sat in comfortable silence for a moment, letting Maxim’s words settle between us.Then, I adjusted in my seat.“Let’s talk about something we both remember.I love that we have shared memories together now.Thatmakes me happy.”
Maxim’s lips curled at the edges, pressing his cheek to my hair.“I love so many things about the last fifteen hours.I feel consumed with it.”
I leaned up to press a small kiss to his cheek before we adjusted our posture, settling back into place.Still, I stayed close, unwilling to move even an inch farther away from him.
His smile deepened.“Regarding dinner, because you love that we share this memory…”
I nodded, a wave of self-forgiveness settling over me, as if Maxim’s words had given me permission to let go of my shame, something I’d gotten very good at holding on to.
“When I said it was the best night of my life, I meant it.That black dress,” he sighed, “somehow caught the light just enough to make it impossible to look anywhere else.”
I huffed a quiet laugh, my fingers brushing away the heat rising at my collarbone.“It was just a dress.”
“I wasn’t actually talking about the dress,” he chuckled.“Do you truly not know, Isara?”
I narrowed my eyes with playful suspicion.“I do love a dramatic pause.Enlighten me.”
“That you exist in a way that makes beauty feel like an understatement.”
My cheeks burned as I looked away.
Maxim eased into my view, undeterred by my retreat.“Your surname is Poeima.It literally means masterpiece.”
My lips parted in surprise.“It does?”
“A variation from its Greek and Latin roots, but yes.And you are the very essence of what it represents.”
The exponent approached then, setting down our drinks with such skill that it barely interrupted the conversation.I murmured my thanks, wrapping my hands around the warm cresk, letting the heat seep into my palms.Maxim’s gaze hadn’t drifted; he was still watching me, waiting for me to say more so he could extract something from the small spaces between my words.
I cleared my throat.“I remember how composed you were all night, but I could tell you were paying attention, watching for signs that I was at ease.”
“It mattered to me that you enjoyed yourself,” he said simply.“That you felt comfortable.”
“I did.”I traced my fingertip along the rim of my cresk.“I do.That’s why it’s… nice.To talk about something real.No projections, no hypothetical compatibility assessments.An actual memory to share.And it’s ours.”
