Page 70 of Shattered Crown
"I wasn't entirely right either." She turned to face the water, her profile sharp against the fading light. "Being a single parent isn't easy. You're doing better than you think."
I didn't know how to respond to that. So I didn't.
We walked in silence for a while. The sun touched the water, then began to sink beneath it, the sky a riot of color.
"May I tell you something?" she asked.
I nodded.
"The real reason I do this. The charity work." She hugged her arms around herself. "It's not just about wanting to help people."
I waited.
"My father grew up poor. Really poor. The kind where you don't know where your next meal is coming from." Her voice had gone quiet. "He doesn't talk about it much. It took years before he told me the whole story. But there were times when his family had to rely on charity just to survive. Food banks. Clothing drives. Organizations that kept a roof over their heads when everything was falling apart."
She looked at me.
"Those organizations saved his family. And when he told me that story, I couldn't stop thinking about all the people out there in the same situation. Who was helping them? Who was making sure they didn't fall through the cracks?" She shrugged, but there was nothing casual about it. "I decided I was going to give back. For him. For everyone like him."
I stared at her. The last of the sunlight caught her face, and something in my chest turned over.
"You're remarkable," I said. "You know that?"
She laughed, shaky. "I'm just doing what needs to be done."
"That's what makes you remarkable."
The sun disappeared below the horizon. The sky faded from orange to purple to deep blue. Stars began appearing, one by one, scattered across the darkness.
"I think about you constantly."
The words came out before I could stop them. Rough. Raw.
Aria went still.
"I try not to." I stared at the waves, unable to look at her. "I tell myself all the reasons I shouldn't. But you're there. Every minute. And I can't make it stop."
"Sebastian..."
"I know you said it can't happen again. I know all the reasons you're right." I turned to face her. "But I need you to know it's not a game. Whatever this is. It's not a strategy or a competition or any of that."
She was staring at me, lips parted, eyes wide in the dim light.
"It's just you," I said. "I want you. And I don't know what to do with that."
Silence. The waves kept their rhythm. The stars kept multiplying overhead.
Then she reached out.
Her hand found mine. Fingers sliding between fingers, warm and certain.
"I think about you, too," she whispered. "I hate that I do. But I do."
I couldn't breathe.
We stood there on the shore, hands linked, watching the waves roll in and out. Neither of us spoke. There was nothing to say. Just this. Just us. Suspended in the moment before everything changed.
Later, walking back through the gardens, I stopped her in the shadow of a palm tree. The fronds blocked out the stars. The landscape lights cast soft pools of gold around us.
