"You'll still be a veterinarian," Octavia insisted. "Just one with a crown."
That startled a laugh from me, breaking the momentary heaviness. "I doubt I'll have much time for animal care once I'm coronated."
"We're getting off track," Octavia said, redirecting the conversation with characteristic bluntness. "The question is what you're going to do about Tall, Dark, and Homicidal over there." She nodded toward James, who was surreptitiously watching us while pretending to check his phone.
"Nothing," I said firmly. "At least not yet. We're both too volatile right now. And there's still the Sicily internship to consider."
"Ah yes, Sicily," Gabriela nodded. "Have you heard back from any of the practices?"
"All three, actually. They're interested, just waiting on final security arrangements." I didn't mention that those arrangements would be made by James, or that Sicily was where his family was from, where his grandfather still lived with a farm James loved.
"So you'll be spending three months in Sicily with Hot Bodyguard before returning to Bellavista to become queen," Octavia summarized, a mischievous gleam in her eye. "Sounds like the perfect opportunity for a royal rendezvous."
"It's not like that," I protested, though the image her words conjured was tempting—James and me in Sicily, away from the pressures of palace life, free to explore what was between us before duty called me home. "He's not some vacation romance."
"No," Gabriela agreed, studying me thoughtfully. "He's not, is he? This is serious for you."
I nodded, unable to deny it. "More serious than I want it to be. More serious than it can be, given the circumstances."
"Circumstances change," Octavia shrugged. "Rules change. Traditions change. Especially when the person in charge wants them to."
"I won't even be in charge for months," I pointed out. "And by then, James will be long gone."
"Will he?" Gabriela asked, her gaze drifting to where James sat, his attention now fixed on a man who had entered the café and was scanning the room. "Because he doesn't look like a man planning to go anywhere."
I followed her gaze, watching as James's entire body tensed, ready for action. The man he was watching approached the counter, ordered a coffee, and left. Only then did James relax marginally, his eyes immediately seeking me out. When our gazes met, something electric passed between us, even across the crowded café.
"I do not know what he's planning," I admitted, turning back to my friends. "Or what I'm planning, for that matter. All I know is that when I'm with him, everything else—Alexandra's death, my mother's illness, the crown waiting for me—feels more manageable somehow. Like I'm not facing it all alone."
"Then maybe that's your answer," Gabriela said quietly. "Maybe it's not about what happens in the future, but what you need right now."
What I need now. The thought was revolutionary in its simplicity. All my life, I'd been trained to think of the future—of duty, of responsibility, of the greater good. What I needed in the present moment had always been secondary, if considered at all.
But what did I need now? Security, yes. Protection from the threats still looming over me, also yes. But the connection. TheUnderstanding. The fierce, unwavering support only offered by James, even manifested in ways that should frighten me. The opposite happens; exhilaration, craving and possession present themselves instead.
As if sensing my thoughts, James stood, a subtle signal that it was time to leave. I nodded slightly to acknowledge him, then turned back to my friends.
"I should go," I said, reluctance clear in my voice. "Self-defense lessons at six tomorrow morning."
Octavia wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. "Self-defense lessons, huh? Is that what the kids are calling it these days?"
"Shut up," I laughed, punching her arm lightly. "It's just training."
"Training that involves his hands all over you," she pointed out with a smirk. "No wonder he didn't want Frederick doing it."
I rolled my eyes but couldn't quite suppress a smile at her teasing. "It's not like that. He's completely professional during lessons."
"That's what makes it hot," Octavia insisted. "The restraint. The control. Knowing he wants to touch you but won't let himself."
"Ignore her," Gabriela advised, shooting Octavia a quelling look. "Just be careful, Eve. With your heart and with your safety."
Suddenly grateful, I hugged them both in these normal moments. Wrapped up in an increasingly complicated shit-show of a life. "I will. I promise."
James's eyes followed me as I moved towards him. His look was cautious, possessive, and serious. One thing in his eyes never changed when he looked at me — intensity. His gaze was always intense.
"Ready?" he asked, voice neutral but his eyes burned with something far from professional.
"Yes," I replied, letting our gazes lock for a moment longer than necessary. "I'm ready."
