Page 74 of The Royal's Pet: A MMF Ménage Royal Romance

“What do you think about Friends?” I ask, my words jumbled as I speak with my mouth full of toothbrush.

Ben, also brushing his teeth, has a little more decency than me. He spits in the sink before saying, “It’s good.”

“Who’s your favorite?”

“I’d fuck Chandler,” he says without missing a beat.

I nearly cough on my toothpaste foam. “Chandler? No one wants him!”

“I do.”

I roll my eyes. “I was always a Ross girl.”

“Obviously,” he scoffs. “You’re a hopeless romantic.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It’s not.” He’s incredibly earnest suddenly, those dark eyes on me. He turns my chin to face him, and my toothbrush pops out of my mouth. He presses a small minty kiss to my lips. “It’s my favorite thing about you.”

Somehow, I got a gay best friend and a sensual lover rolled into one. I don’t know how that happened… but it did. His rough hands choke me when I need to hurt and cradle me when I need affection. Ben should be all I need… but he’s not.

And I’m not all he needs. We’re not whole together. Not without Roland.

Sadness barrels into me like a freight train. Suddenly, my vision blurs and I’m crying again. For the hundredth time today. Boo-hoo, poor me. Concern flashes over Ben’s expression. “What’s wrong?”

“I just… hold on.” I spit in the sink, wash my mouth, and wash my face. The cold water feels good on my tear-hot eyelids, and I keep holding my hands over my face. “I miss Roland,” I choke out. I hate myself for saying that. I hate myself for admitting that I miss one lover when my other lover is right here in front of me. When did my life get this complicated?

Ben takes my wrists gently, and he lowers my hands from my face. I know I must look a wreck—my lower lip feels swollen, and I’m doing my best to keep it from trembling.

“Rory… I miss him, too,” Ben sighs. “Incredibly. You don’t have to hide from me.”

“I told myself I wouldn’t fall in love while I was traveling, you know? I knew it would just lead to heartbreak. I knew it and I did it anyway. God.” I drop my head. A teardrop hangs on my eyelashes. “I feel like such an idiot.”

“Hey. Look at me.” Ben’s eyebrows press together, intense. “You know the lie I told myself?”

I sniff. “What?”

“I told myself I would never let Roland know how I felt about him. I held it inside of me for six years. It nearly ate me alive, but I swallowed it. Without you, I would’ve taken it to my grave.”

“Do you regret telling him?”

“Not for a second. A wise woman once told me that it’s better to die regretting the things you’ve done than regretting all the things you were too afraid to do.”

“Did you mean it?” I ask, looking into his coal-dark eyes. “Will you really come to Scotland with me?”

Ben nods. “I meant it. We can leave tomorrow, if you’d like.”

“Okay.” I rock forward and lean against him, resting my head on his chest. My heart feels stone heavy, and my eyes are so puffy they’re nearly swollen shut. I’m tired of crying. I’m tired of feeling this heartbroken. “I just… need to leave. I need to get out of London.”

“It’s going to be okay, love,” Ben reassures me. He holds the back of my head and presses a kiss to my forehead.

39

Ben

Rory cries herself to sleep.

I’m sure between the crying, fucking, and whispering, we’ve kept everyone else up all night. We’re terrible houseguests. Truthfully, since I left the military, I’d hoped I wouldn’t have to bunk with a room full of people again. It seems that’s not the case. I could have asked my parents if we could stay with them for a night, and I’m sure they would’ve said yes. But that would’ve involved telling them that I got fired from the palace. I’m not ready to face their disappointment and barrage of questions. Plus, we’re safe here. No killers or assassins will come looking for us here.

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