“I hate this,” I whisper-shout at Tristan’s back.
He finally comes to a halt on the edge of the ballroom, near the open French doors.
“You hate dancing?” He adjusts my grip in his. “No one hates dancing.”
We start to sway. “Not dancing. Everyone is staring. I hate being the center of attention.”
He tugs me closer with a hand on my lower back. I wriggle before he can accidentally grab the gun, and he gives me a rueful smile.
“Don’t worry about everyone else. They’re staring at me, not at you.”
I roll my eyes, but he’s probably right. Everyone stares at Tristan Prince. I stared when I first met him, slightly awed by the golden god before me. He’s larger than life. Tall, broad, sandy haired and green eyed, perpetually in motion. He’s the kind of charming that makes you want to bask in his presence. The kind of good-natured that makes you never want to say no to him. Every time I’m with him, I feel lighter, like I’m looking at the world through rose-colored glasses, like he’s lookingat methrough them.
Under Tristan’s gleaming gaze, everyone is special.
Of course people are staring.
He starts maneuvering me toward the terrace, his hand hot on my back and a look of pure boredom on his face. Iknow that look. That looks says he’s up to something and hiding it.
“Escaping already?”
There’s a flicker of a muscle in his jaw, but he backs me smoothly onto the terrace before he lets me go. There are guests milling, admiring the gardens, grouped in clusters around the high tables topped with flowers. Tristan nods at a few, then slips around the side of the house and down a set of stairs to the silent stone patio and the lush arbor covering it. It will be heavy with grapes come October, but right now it’s a riot of leaves and tendrils so thick they give the illusion of privacy.
There’s no one down here. No lights, no decorations. Tristan hops up onto the wall. I hop up next to him. For a long moment we just breathe. Crownhaven is pure magic. The air smells like flowers and salt. The moon is bright and the ocean sparkles under it to our right. It’s calm tonight, just a rush of sound that rises and recedes as it hits the cliffs.
“What have I missed?”
I shrug. “Nothing.” If I’m being honest, which I won’t be, because his ego is already massive, Crownhaven was boring without Tristan here. Aiden has Emory, and the twins were gone, and I felt useless and unsettled. I shift against the stone.
“Don’t lie, Bailey. You wasted away while I was gone. You totally missed me.”
I slide him a narrow-eyed glance. His eyes are teasing. His lashes cast long shadows on his cheeks under the bright moonlight.
“Two percent.”
He grins. “Ten.”
I let out a breathless huff of laughter. “Fine. Five. Final offer.”
He bumps me with his shoulder. “Knew it.”
Something eases inside me. It’s good having Tristan back. It feels right. Righter than I realized, like now that he’s filling the hole he left, I’ve just learned it was there in the first place.
Not for long.
That cold knot is still there in the pit of my stomach.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Tristan asks, because he’s that kind of guy. He’s irreverent and way too curious for his own good, and he’s never serious when it matters, but he’s also kind. It’s his primary redeeming quality. That, and the ability to make anyone laugh.
I look up into his eyes, and he grins down at me. “I’m good,” I tell him, but it feels like a lie. There’s something uncomfortable pressing on my shoulders tonight, making me itchy. It’s the same feeling I’ve had for a month, ever since we started preparing for the party.
“You sure?” Another bump with his shoulder. Tristan is a tactile person. I’m not. The first time he hugged me, I went stiff as a board.
“Everything is changing.” I force the words out, and his face twists briefly before he smooths his expression.
“Not everything,” he says lightly. “Besides, we have at least a year.”
A year until he has to marry, he means. A year until my best friend is gone.
