Page 90 of Fake Crown

“It’s the truth teller.” He grins.

“Thanks for the ride,” I say as I slide out.

“Any time,” Brice says. “Posey has a giant heart. Glad she found someone to show it to.”

Jag closes the rear door behind me and stands in front of it while I pick up my bags and use one of the keys to unlock the front door. As soon as I’m inside, Jag circles the car, and the horn honks as they pull away from the curb.

As an introduction to the royal family, that was a lot more relaxed than I expected. Of course, Posey told me Brice was chill like her, but I didn’t expect him to be quite so down-to-earth.

After taking the elevator, I slot the key into Posey’s apartment door, and when the door swings back, it feels like I’ve come home. The décor is exactly like I’d expect—white and grey with some splashes of color here and there. It’s the pictures on the wall that are a surprise.

Warmth spreads across my chest. There’s a whole wall of artfully displayed black-and-white photos of me and Posey from the last few months. In the center is one color photo, the first one I ever took of us. We’re sitting on the beach in Bermuda with pizza in our hands and grins on our faces. She is pure perfection. The thought of her putting this together causes my throat to tighten.

I swam this morning before hopping on a plane, so it’s close to dinner now. She should be arriving home from work within the hour. As we drove up, I noticed a flower shop on the corner, and I drop my bags before heading back out. While I’m pretty confident I’ll be enough to put a smile on her face, flowers never hurt.

I relocked Posey’s front door so she wouldn’t be freaking out about a break-in, and when I hear a key in the lock, I ready myself. Dinner waiting on the counter from the deli she loves down the road. Check. Freshly showered. Check. Flowers in my hand. Check.

The door swings open, but she’s got her head down, rooting around in her purse. When she glances up and sees me in the center of her living room, she drops everything and lets out a shriek of surprise.

“Oh my god,” she cries. “You came?” Her voice cracks on the last word, and then she bursts into tears.

Shit. Did I read this wrong?

“Babe.” I set the flowers on a side table and circle the couch to draw her into my arms. She clings onto me and cries against my shirt.

“I hate how much I’ve missed you.” The thickness in her voice is muffled by my chest.

I chuckle. “You don’t have to miss me at all for the next two weeks, so there’s that.”

“Two weeks?” She wraps her arms around my neck and hops into my arms.

I hold her steady while I shut the front door with my foot and then press her against it, but she won’t take her head out of my neck to look at me.

“Babe,” I say again. “Come on. Look at me.”

“You came,” she whispers against my neck.

“Every time,” I say against her ear. “I’ll show up for you every time.”

“How is it possible to love someone this much?” She frames my face with her hands, and her tear-stained cheeks are flushed.

“I don’t know,” I say. “But I’m right there with you, Posey Jensen. Nothing in the world I wouldn’t do for you.”

“You got me flowers?”

“I did.”

“And you didn’t even do anything wrong.”

“Hopefully something very right by coming here.” I give her a half-smile.

“Yeah,” she says, and she runs her fingers through my hair. “Yeah, you nailed it.”

“Bang, bang, bang, baby.” I nuzzle my nose with hers, and then she’s kissing me, and the familiar fullness returns. When I’m not with her, there’s a noticeable absence, and I can’t wait until the day when I don’t have to leave her or she doesn’t have to leave me. But for now, this is where we’re at, and I’ve got no regrets.

“I have no food in the house,” Posey says when we break the kiss.

“You know, food isn’t the only thing I think about,” I say. “But I already grabbed us dinner from the deli you like. It’s on the counter.”