Page 81 of Heavy Crown

He stares at the unlit fireplace and strokes my leg under the blanket. “Interesting question.”

“Is it?”

He glances at me. “When I came back from uni, I threw myself into learning everything I could. But my boundaries worsened after my father’s illness came to light. Right now, I can turn to him and ask a question if I’m not sure. It’s just—I’ve realized he’s not always going to be there.” He takes a deep breath. “Of course that’s been true all along, but the threat is more imminent. We were supposed to have years.” He stares into the distance. “I haven’t told Nick and Brice this, but if the referendum passes, I’m not sure how much time my father will let lapse before he files the paperwork to set things in motion for his case.”

I’m sure my eyes must be huge. “You think he’ll...” How do I phrase my question without sounding crass or insensitive? “You think it’ll be that quick?”

He runs a hand through his hair. “Most countries have parameters in their laws about who can seek assisted suicide and when. One of those clauses is often related to cognitive function. In order to agree to your death, you must be aware of what you’re agreeing to. As much as I’d love to believe we won’t have to say goodbye until much, much later, I don’t know what my father will decide or what the law will allow.”

I seek his hand under the blanket and clasp it in mine. “That’s a lot to sort through.”

“I’ve been working around the clock under this notion that if I get enough knowledge into my brain, I’ll never wish I could turn to my father for help when he’s no longer there.” He huffs out a breath and shakes his head. “A ridiculous notion.” His voice catches. “Is there ever a point when a son doesn’t need his father?”

My heart squeezes in my chest. Alex isn’t one to show a lot of emotion, but it’s there in his voice, in the slant of his mouth. “He’s been a good father?”

Alex lets out a strangled chuckle. “The only one I’ve known.” He gives me a wry smile. “When he’s my father, he’s excellent. When he’s the king, he’s a force to be reckoned with. Two very different people.”

“I suppose that’s one of the hard things about running a family business. My parents struggled with when to treat me like their child and when to treat me like an employee.”

“The lines are very blurry,” Alex admits. “I used to be closer to my mother, but lately...” He shrugs. “She knows me well, and that’s actually become a drawback instead of a blessing. Never thought I’d say that.”

“What about your brothers?”

“They were raised under slightly less restrictive guidelines.” His lips twist. “But it’s still essentially the same. When you fuck up, you’re not letting down a family member, you’re letting down and exposing a whole country.”

There was never anything worse as a kid than disappointing my parents. I never minded making them angry, but when I disappointed them, that cut like a knife. How would it feel to have that magnified by one hundred thousand disheartened voices?

“I can’t even imagine that level of pressure.”

“Would you want to?” Alex’s voice is gruff. “If circumstances were different...”

My heart pounds in my chest, and my breathing turns shallow. Is he implying if circumstances were different between us? If the rules were different? He picks his words so carefully, there’s no chance he’s said this by mistake.

“Between us?” I can’t keep the hopeful edge out of my voice.

He shakes his head and breaks eye contact. “Forget I said anything. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

I grip his hand under the blankets, and when he slowly turns to face me, his expression is hooded. No way to read what’s going on in that mind of his, but on the off chance he needs to hear it, I’m going to say it. I want to say it.

“I would take on the weight of the country for you.” I search his face. “I’d take on the weight of the world if it meant I could have you.” A dangerous proclamation. He’s been clear about what we cannot have. The impossibility of an us forever. Unfortunately, it hasn’t stopped me from tending a seed of hope. I’m going to seize every inch of ground he gives me.

He leans across my body, and he kisses me, long and deep. When he draws back, our foreheads rest against each other, and he stares down into my eyes. “Sometimes,” he says. “I wish we were different people too.”

The rough edge of his voice creates an answering pang in my heart. Tears fill my eyes, and warmth floods my chest. My words are clogged by the immediate lump that’s formed in my throat. Instead of speaking, I just nod and kiss him again. I drag him down on top of me.

“You’re sick,” Alex murmurs into my neck. “I want to take care of you.”

I slide my hand along the front of his suit pants. “I’ll let you take care of me.”

He chuckles and draws away. “That’s taking advantage of you. Two very different things.” He rearranges my legs again and stretches his own onto the coffee table. “Drink your tea, and I’ll tuck you in.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” I lift the mug to my lips. The water is lukewarm now, and I take a big gulp. Rather than staging a revolt, my stomach accepts the liquid. There may not be a hat trick of hair holding after all.

I drink the rest of it in the comfortable silence nestling between us. One of the things I love the most about my time with Alex is that we don’t have to speak to understand each other.

When I slip the cup onto the coffee table, he raises his eyebrows. “Done?”

I throw off the blanket covering me, but before I can get to my feet, Alex slides his arms under me and lifts me into the air, cradling me against his chest. It’s a position I’ve been in several times now, but the sensation never gets old. I could spend the rest of my life in these arms.