Page 118 of Scarred Crown

“Yeah.” She meets my gaze. “We make a good team. We always did.”

“You’d be okay with,” I struggle to put the role into words without making her sound like a royal sidekick, “partnering with me on all my charities, patronages, and foundations?”

She beams at me. “Yes.” She takes an audible breath. “It’s actually sort of been my dream since we were teenagers.” Her smile turns sheepish. “Given how far we drifted apart, that probably sounds far-fetched.”

“To know I’m currently making all your dreams come true?” I smirk, but inside my heart thuds heavy and happy.

“Well, when you put it like that.” Julia’s cheeks pinken.

I reach across the table and run my thumb along her cheek, and then I can’t resist dropping a kiss on her lips. She slants her mouth to deepen it, and I chuckle, withdrawing.

“Nope. You’re not sucking me in a second time.”

“Got it.” Her eyes twinkle. “No sucking.”

I hold up a hand. “Let’s not get hasty. No sucking right now.” I wink at her.

She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, and she searches my face. “I don’t think I’ve ever been happier.”

“Who knew my father sending you to Tanzania would work out so well.” She stiffens slightly, and I lean across the table to kiss her. “For both of us. I hope that didn’t come out the wrong way.”

“It didn’t.” Her voice is husky. “Tell me your dreams, Nick. You’re giving me mine. How can I help you get yours?”

God, I love her. She’s exactly the Jules I remember but better because instead of me pining after her, feeling like a lovesick fool, it seems like we’re both in this together this time. I don’t doubt that she feels something for me, even if we haven’t named it yet. In the Las Vegas pictures on my phone, there’s a vibe between us that can’t be faked. But the few times we’ve been photographed in public since we returned has only solidified that sense of mutual adoration. She looks at me like I’m the most important person in any room, and I hope she sees the same thing reflected in me.

“Brice has this theory about relationships. He thinks he should only be in one where the other person loves him more.” I’ve never understood it. Seems like a breeding ground for insecurities and resentment.

A frown forms across her brow. “Sounds like a recipe for disaster. Exactly the kind of thing Brice, when he was younger, would have said. I thought he was growing up?” Jules picks up her wine glass and takes a sip. “Love shouldn’t feel like a competition, should it? I love you more. You love me less. Nobody wins.”

Hearing her say ‘love’ so many times in a row is doing strange things to my chest.

“Dessert?” I set my fork and knife across my plate. “I can call the kitchen for a Bellerive flower pastry.”

She groans. “So tempting, but unlike you, I don’t have workouts scheduled into my business day. If I keep gorging on pastries with you every night, I’m in trouble.”

“Hardly.” I take my own wine glass off the table. “It’s not like we don’t work off those calories.” Many of those desserts end up smeared on Julia’s body, and I make it my mission to get her all clean.

“You didn’t answer my question earlier, is that because you don’t know what you want or you’re afraid to say?” Her voice is gentle.

“I’m not afraid to say.” I sip my wine. “You, our own house on the property, some kids. In terms of work for the monarchy…” I think of Elena and Bahati who will be on the island very soon for the first surgery. “I’d like to expand what I started in Tanzania, with your help, if you’re up for it.”

“Yes,” she breathes out, and a smile blooms on her face. “One hundred percent yes. After it took you three days to thank me for the donation in your name when we were teenagers, I figured I’d never get the chance.”

I suck in a sharp breath. The memory of that Christmas rises to the surface. “I’m sorry I was such a dick back then.”

She shrugs, but some of the playfulness has gone out of her. A quick subject change is in order.

“Kids?” I ask.

“How many do you want?”

“As few or as many as you want. I’m open to whatever makes sense for you and for us.” Before Tanzania, kids were an abstract idea. I figured I’d have a child someday, but I’d never longed for a family. But since we returned to Bellerive when I see pregnant women or parents with their children, my mind strays to Jules, to what we could build together.

She stands up and holds out her hand, her expression soft. “Come here.”

I set down my wine glass and take her hand. She leads me over to the bed, and while I’m tempted to throw on the brakes, I’ve got no willpower. She glances at me over her shoulder. “I just want to lie with you,” she says.

I chuckle when she slides her robe off at the side of the bed. “Is lie with you a euphemism?” Cause if it’s not, she’s in for a surprise when my robe falls.