Page 108 of Fallen Crown

“I don’t want to see him.” The lies he told and the way he manipulated my depression and my desire not to fail at our marriage will never sit right with me. “He’ll try to convince me that everything is my fault and that I owe him something as a result.”

“If he needs to see someone,” Brice says beside me, “I’ll happily have that conversation.”

I glance at him for the first time since the private investigator stopped laying out all the evidence. His jaw is tight, and although he gripped my hand reassuringly any time I faltered or something particularly egregious was presented, he hasn’t said much until now.

“While I appreciate the gesture,” Caitlin says, “it wouldn’t be beneficial to Maren’s case and claims to have you too involved.”

“Do you need anything else from me?” I’m still in a bit of shock over everything I’ve learned.

“I can take it from here,” Caitlin says. “If he and his lawyer understand they have no recourse, I might be able to fast-track this through.”

I rise, and Brice stands with him, his hand firm on the small of my back. As we leave the office, Jag sets out in front of us, leading the way back to the car.

“That must have been pretty fucking hard to hear,” Brice says, and he gathers me close to his side as we walk, kissing the top of my head.

“I don’t know what to think.” In some ways, I can see how this all came about—the distance, the lack of communication, my unwavering desire to never fail at anything. At the same time, the Enzo I was presented with in Caitlin’s office doesn’t bear any resemblance to the man I thought I married.

“When you want to talk it out, I’m happy to listen.”

I squeeze him tight while Jag opens the rear door to the car. Once I’m settled, I lace Brice’s fingers with mine, and I stare out the window. “Can we swing past Sawyer’s clinic on the way home?”

“Do you want us to wait, or do you want me to send Jag back to get you when you’re ready to come home?”

His unwavering support is a gift, and his casual use of “home” for me at the palace is more thrilling than I would have expected. It really feels, despite the terrible news about Enzo, that I’m moving in the right direction. Closer to him and a future and further away from everything that’s been holding me hostage in the past.

“I can take a cab,” I say.

“I’d be more comfortable if Jag circled back for you when you’re ready. The press is still milling around, you’ve got your concussion, and I don’t see the point in putting you in an awkward situation we can avoid.”

His media training and inherent savvy at dealing with challenging situations might be the sexiest thing about him. When we get to Sawyer’s building, instead of getting out, I unbuckle my seat belt, staddle him, and I give him something to think about while I’m gone.

He doesn’t even question what I’m doing. He grips my hip with one hand, and the other digs into my hair, drawing me deeper into the kiss.

Jag clears his throat, and Brice chuckles against my lips.

“I like you, Jag,” Brice says. “That’s the only reason you’re getting away with a suddenly scratchy throat.” He plants another quick kiss on my lips. “And I love you, Maren Tucker. Call Jag when you want picked up, and he’ll come get you.”

Having someone want to take care of me is going to take some getting used to, but the flood of warmth across my chest at the realization that Brice cares so much is a welcome rush.

“I love you too,” I say before scrambling off his lap and out the door.

Sawyer is with a client when I arrive, and I sit in the waiting room, hoping I’ve come close to calculating her lunch break. The receptionist picks up her stuff to go for lunch as Sawyer’s client comes out, and she flips the closed sign as the two of them walk out the door.

“How are you feeling? How did the meeting go this morning about Enzo?” Sawyer asks as she clicks the lock on the door and goes to the fridge behind the desk to grab her lunch. “I’ve got an extra salad, if you’re hungry?”

“I’ll take the salad,” I say, and I hold out my hand. While we eat, I fill her in on everything that happened in Caitlin’s office.

“Does any of this impact what’s happening with you and Brice?” Sawyer sets her empty salad container to the side and cracks open a package of cookies, offering me one.

“No,” I say, carefully, “not really. My issue with Brice has, at least since we’ve gotten close, been about him wanting kids. Enzo and I never talked about it, and we should have. Brice says he’s fine if we never end up having any.” I take a deep breath. “I guess I’m just worried he’ll resent me at some point if we don’t.”

“There are all kinds of ways the two of you can create a family. It’s going to be whether both of you have the stomach for those processes. Did you change your mind about wanting them?”

“I want his kids. My desire is very specific to him. I don’t know if I’d want them if I wasn’t with him.”

“You want them because he wants them?”

“No, it’s like…” I let out a self-conscious laugh. “Biological or something. It’s him. It’s one hundred percent the idea of sharing that with him that appeals to me. In some ways, it makes the reality of not being able to carry a baby worse.”