And it’s as if a civil war wages across her face—half of her wanting to bolt, the other half wanting to hear what I have to say. After a few moments of indecision, the latter has won.
She crosses her arms and sits down on the edge of the bed, slowly. “Okay. Explain.”
I tell her the whole story. About my grandmother, the list—about all the birds that need to be killed and how I’m the stone that gets to do the deed.
“Wow,” she murmurs afterward. “And I thought I was the one with baggage.” She rocks a bit, shaking her head. “That’s…crazy. I mean, it’s the twenty-first century and you have to do the arranged marriage thing?”
I try to shrug. “It’s not as arranged as it used to be. The first time my grandparents were alone in a room together was their wedding night.”
“Wow,” Olivia says again. “Awkward.”
“I at least have the chance to get to know the woman I’ll marry. I get to decide—but there are certain requirements that have to be met.”
She leans forward, elbows to knees, her silky hair falling over her shoulder. “What kind of requirements?”
“She has to be nobility, even distantly. And she has to be a virgin.”
Olivia grimaces. “Jesus, that’s archaic.”
“I know it is. But think about it, Olivia. My children will govern a country one day, not because they’ve earned it or were elected—just because they’re mine. Archaic rules are the only thing that makes me who I am. I don’t get to choose which ones I’ll follow.” I shrug. “That’s life.”
“No, it’s not,” Olivia says quietly.
“It’s my life.”
As she stares at me, her expression hardens and her eyes turn steely, pinning me to the wall. “Why didn’t you tell me? All these nights, why didn’t you say anything?”
“There was no reason to tell you…at first.”
She stands up fast, voice rising. “Honesty is a reason, Nicholas. You should have told me!”
“I didn’t know!”
“You didn’t know what?” she sneers prettily.
“I didn’t know it would feel like this!” I shout.
The scorn fades from her face along with the anger. Replaced with rising surprise, maybe a bit of hope. “Feel like what?”
Emotion coils inside me—so new and unfamiliar, I can barely put it into words.
“I have just over four months. And when I walked into that coffee shop, I didn’t know that I would end up wanting to spend every single day of it…with you.”
The corners of her eyes crinkle and her mouth pulls up in the tiniest of smiles.
“You do?”
I cup her cheek and nod. “Talking to you, laughing with you, looking at you.” Then I smirk. “Preferably being buried deep in some part of you.”
She snorts and pushes at my shoulder.
And then I sober. “But that’s all I have to offer. When the summer ends, so do we.”
Olivia combs her hand through her hair, yanking a bit.
I sit back down in the chair, adding, “And there’s more.”
“Oh, Jesus, what? Is there a long-lost child out there somewhere?”
I flinch—even though I know she’s joking.
“Logan was right about the press. It’s just dumb luck that they haven’t snapped your photo yet—a matter of time. And when they do, your life is going to change. They’ll talk to everyone you’ve ever known, dig around into the financial situation of Amelia’s, comb through your past—”
“I don’t have a past.”
“Then they’ll make one up,” I snap without meaning to.
It’s out of frustration—frustration that time is short…and the walls are closing in.
“It not easy being my friend; it’s even more difficult being my lover. Think of me as a walking exploding bomb—anything near to me will eventually become collateral damage.”
“And you seemed like such a catch,” she jokes, shaking her head.
Then she stands and turns her back to me, thinking out loud. “So, it’ll be like…like Dear John, or Sandy and Zuko in Grease? A summer fling? An affair? And then…you’ll just leave?”
“That’s right.” I stare at her back, waiting.
My stomach rolls with nerves. Because I can’t remember wanting anything as much as I want this—as much as I want her.
When a minute passes without a word, I offer, “If you need time to think about it, I—”
Olivia moves quickly—spinning around, cutting off my words with the urgent press of her mouth, her sweet lips hot and demanding. My hands automatically find her hips, pulling her forward between my knees.