Page 43 of The Child of Rue Royale
With our arms tightly wrapped around each other in silence, tears wetting our faces, we just take each other in. I run my fingers along the scar on his face, the lips I’ve claimed as mine, the eyebrows so perfectlyshaped. His hands roam up and down my sides, caressing so gently, his green eyes staring into mine.
“I’m not going anywhere, right?”
I look up to him, the past several minutes more emotion than I can stand, but I shake my head. “No, I don’t think so.”
“Is bringing me back allowed?” he asks.
I shake my head, and his face falls, the reality of everything hitting him all at once.
“What do you mean it’s not allowed? Are you in trouble?”
“No,” I say, wiping the tears from my eyes. “Not yet, at least.” Aven comes to mind, and my heart drops. “I can’t believe you’re here,” I cry, not knowing how to bring up the fact that he has a son, and just the thought of the words coming out of my mouth throws me into a fit of sobs.
“How long has it been? And why are we in Santa Cruz?”
My teeth scrape against my bottom lip as I assess him, the task of filling him in on everything suddenly feeling very daunting when all I want to do is hold him, kiss him, caress him, and make love to him. But I know he has so many questions that need to be answered, and I need to get it together. There’s time for all of that. I take a deep breath, calling on strength to ground me and then say, “It’s been eleven months.”
HE BLINKS, LIKE HE’S TRYINGto calculate how much time has passed. I won’t info dump on him. I need breaks between questions because there’s so much he needs to know. A flicker of emotion sweeps over his face, and he squeezes my knee. “Who killed me?”
“Franklin had someone set my house on fire. We don’t know who yet. Mother is trying to figure it out. He tried to kill me, not you.”
The veins in his neck grow hard as his nostrils flare. The clenching of his teeth makes his jaw quiver as his eyes scan my face in desperation.
“He’s dead, Bastian. Your mother killed him.” I say it before he can ask, before he can react.
“What?” He shakes his head in exasperation, undoubtedly overwhelmed, and of course he is. “Cassius?”
“He’s fine. Well, he’s not fine. He misses you. But he’s okay.”
Relief washes over him, and his mouth is on mine again. Hard and fast. It surprises me but warms everything inside my tired body. How alive he makes me feel, how complete I feel next to him.
“And here?” he whispers when our lips part, forehead against mine. “How did we get here?”
“Cassius is the executor of your estate and gave us the house.”
“Us?” he asks, looking around the empty beach.
“Bastian. There’s…something I need to tell you.”
The blood in my veins pumps through my body, the fire inside shooting sparks through my heart. I know he’ll be happy—he won’t believe it, but he’ll be happy.
“You’re shaking, baby. It’s okay. I’m back, and I’m never leaving your side ever again. Do you understand me? When you have to shower, I will be sitting on the sink, handing you the soap.” He smiles, wet tears trapped in his eyes, and I can only laugh. What a perfect thing to say.
“I love you so much. I love you. I love you,” I say, and he takes my hand in his, his thumb running delicately along my skin. My head tilts because I’m going to deliver him the biggest surprise of his life, and now I can’t wait.
“Bastian, something happened. Something amazing and—”
“ASTER!” Chantal calls as she runs down the stairs, and Bastian’s eyes swing up to her.
Bastian looks to Chantal, Chantal looks to Bastian, and her breathing stops.
“Holy shit.” She steps back, staring at him for a second, entranced by what I’ve done, and then her head snaps back into reality. “You’re in the sun.”
“Yeah.” I sigh, still shocked about that.
“I can’t soothe him,” Chantal says like she’s speaking in code, and I see tears in her eyes. Aven.
“Come on.” I grab Bastian’s hand, pulling him up the stairs, the sound of Aven’s crying growing louder and louder. Bursting through the door, I run to our room and pull Aven into my arms as Chantal grabs a pair of shorts from the closet.
