Page 74 of Charmed

"Exactly how it sounds. Okay, Riley, I understand. I heard you and I agree."

His lips flatlined in confusion. "I'm going head out of the room now to take a shower before you realize I just gave you a direct order. And that you complied."

Chapter Twenty-One

“So, we have a plan.” Tristan straightened from the mansion’s dining room table and crossed his arms, still glaring at the island’s map splayed before them. “We’re all in agreement?”

Five sets of eyes landed on Riley as if he was the solitary hitch in this whack version of a solution. Which he was, but he was through fighting. Arguing had gotten him nowhere. They were doing this whether he liked it or not. And he so, so didn’t.

Instead of answering, he sighed and turned to Fi. “Come upstairs with me.” They had a few hours before his bleak little corner of the world flew to Kingdom Come. He desperately wanted her to himself.

In a rare twist of compliance, she silently followed him to his suite and shut the door. While he paced, she watched, again with the no talking. Or sass. Or confusing banter.

“Christ, babe. Say something already.” Her being mute was scarier than any scenario he might conjure for how tonight would go down. When she didn’t respond, he faced her, only to find her turquoise gaze solemn. Because that was helpful. “You’re freaking me out more.” She’d said next to zilch in their meeting, too. His blood pressure could only handle so much shock.

“What do you want me to say?”

Oh, hell. Was she kidding? “Tell me you’re not going to wind up on the sharp end of the witching blade. Tell me I’m ridiculous for worrying about you going up against a three-hundred year old minister who burned your ancestor at the stake. Tell me you’ll be here tomorrow at this exact time to drive me insane with longing like you’ve done every second of every day the past few months. Mercy, Fi. Tell me the main ingredient in a love potion for all I care.”

He paced anew. With vigor.

“Rosemary.”

He halted dead in his tracks, the sudden momentum almost making him face plant. “What?”

“Rosemary is the main ingredient in a love potion.”

Stupidly staring at her, he realized all she hadn’t answered with that otherwise simplistic response. She didn’t assure him everything would be okay, that she was stronger than his uncle, or that she’d even live through the night.

And seriously. She knew the main ingredient for a love potion, but refused to engage in the act itself?

His shoulders sagged. He’d gone and fallen for her. Hard. Would she ever do the same?

To her credit, he hadn’t told her his feelings. Maybe he should be the one to finally erect a spine for this round of Fi-for-all. If tonight, this fractured moment was their last, she should know, right? The thought of anything happening to her was eviscerating, but to lose her and have to live with the fact he hadn’t had the guts to drop three little words would spell out the end for him. All his life he’d run away, had hidden, taken the safe route.

Shit. All right. He had this. All he had to do was part his lips and let syllables spill out.

“I love you.” There. Not so bad. Perhaps blurting it loudly wasn’t optimal, but he gave himself a break. He’d never dropped the L-bomb before.

Except her jaw unhinged and she went from still to rigor mortis. She blink, blink, blinked in the vacant lull.

“Damn it.” He swiped a hand down his face. “I know we said no gushy verses and one day at a time, but that’s asinine. You make up your own rules and have never followed anyone else’s for a second of your life. Screw regulations, babe. I’m in love with you. Bows and arrows, hearts and roses, sunsets and moonrises. You know, the embarrassing kind of love.”

Nothing. Not so much as an eye twitch.

“Breathe, Fi. You can heal people with your hands, blast an oil tanker into the next zip code with wind power, and have faced more terrifying scenarios than me. Just breathe.”

“I am,” she brokenly whispered, belying the statement.

“In and out? In succession?”

Her perfect red mouth opened and quickly shut again.

In the vacuum of his bedroom, it dawned on him with blinding clarity that maybe he was alone in this situation. After all, she was uncharacteristically mute, and why would someone like her ever love a guy like him back? He should count his blessings she deigned to share a bed with him, never mind the time of day.

But if she’d taught him anything during this destiny game, it was that he wasn’t a product of his circumstances and he had more to offer than the label others had stuck on him. She, single-handedly, had built him up in her image and showed him his worth. He had to know if there was anything to her actions or if this was merely a day in the park for her. Had any of the endearments she’d spouted been real?

“Tell me something, just one thing, that’s actually true and from the heart.” Dejection tore at him from opposite angles, yet he pushed forward. “You dodge, you quip, and you evade. Be straight with me on this, on us. I need the truth. One, just one thing, Fiona.”

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