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I could feel my gaze softening as I smiled at him. Jesus fuck, when had I turned into such a sap? And how? Why? Because of him? Because I…
“Uh.” My voice was a little strained as my heart beat faster, the emotions churning inside me unfamiliar but terrifyingly unmistakable at the same time. “Sure. But maybe we could stop at my place on the way so I can grab clean clothes.”
“Of course.” He gave me a tiny smile. “I liked your house. When we were there the other day. It was nice.”
I shrugged. “Yeah, it’s fine. Hell of a lot nicer than the place my mom rented when I was a kid. And a lot bigger than Uncle Robbie’s trailer.”
He squeezed my hand. “You work hard. You deserve everything, Vince.” Cheeks flushing again, he looked down and cleared his throat self-consciously. “I should have stolen some jewels from the palace. Unfortunately, that sock full of coins is useless currency here. I wish I had… more to offer you. I wish I could give you anything you want.”
My heart thudded hard, then began to pound. Flustered, I stammered, “I—It’s—You don’t have to give me stuff. You don’t have to offer me anything.”
“I know, but… I want to.”
“Crossbo—Elvis.” I smiled softly as I turned to face him, cupping his chin in my free hand. “I don’t need stuff. I lived most of my life with next to nothing until I worked really fucking hard to provide for myself and my uncle. Why are you suddenly feeling like you need to… I don’t know, buy me shit?”
He flushed. “I just… I don’t know. It suddenly all feels… final. That’s it. I’m completely on my own. For good this time. I never wanted to go back there, to become king, but it was still a… safety net, of sorts. And now it’s gone.”
“I’m sure that feels pretty unsettling, but…” I cupped the side of his neck, stroking his jaw lightly with my thumb. “You’re not on your own. You have me.”
My pulse was rabbiting in my throat. He was staring at me, and his Adam’s apple bobbed as his gaze flittered over my face before returning to mine.
Tongue darting out to wet his lips, he croaked, “Vince, I… I want to—”
He abruptly stopped when a man carrying six ice creams, having just bought them from the vendor by the park gate, tripped while cheerfully walking back to his family. And accidentally launched them all directly at me. All six of them.
Most hit me square in the chest, but one managed to catch me on the chin, and the cone clung on like a pointy beard for a few seconds before slowly peeling away and splatting on the ground.
“Oh fuck,” the guy breathed, and a little girl sitting on the grass nearby gasped in outrage.
“Daddy!”
“Fudge,” he hastily amended, staring at me in horror. “Shi—shoot, man, I am so sorry.”
“It’s fine.” I chuckled, my face hot as Crossbody’s mouth twitched. He reached over and flicked away an ice cream cone still stuck to my shirt.
A lady was hastily trying to comfort a tiny boy who had started wailing at the realisation that his ice cream was gone, and the guy glanced between me and his family with a stricken expression.
“Seriously, man, it’s all good,” I assured him, then added to Crossbody, “This is probably the universe getting back at me for throwing a cake at your mom.”
He grinned wryly. “But she deserved it.”
“At least let me buy you both a cone,” the guy rushed out. “To apologise.”
“I think we’re good,” I told him with a grin. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Okay,” he said anxiously, taking a step back. “Seriously, I’m so sorry. I, uh… I can pay for the dry cleaning—”
“I’ve had this suit for years.” I chuckled, taking the napkins he held out to wipe away the worst of the ice cream blobs on my shirt. “It’s probably worth less than the dry cleaning would cost.”
By the time I’d finally managed to convince the guy that he didn’t have to do anything, the ice cream stains on my shirt had dried. As Crossbody and I continued on our way to the exit, I could smell artificial strawberry and vanilla and chocolate wafting up with every step I took.
When we reached the parking lot, Crossbody dug my car keys out of the suitcase before loading it into the trunk.
“Should we go to the office?” he asked uncertainly as I opened the driver’s side door. “Let Holt know we’re back and everything is… resolved?”
“I’ll text him, but…” I grinned over the roof of the car at him as he opened the passenger door. “We’re not in the line-up this weekend, so we don’t have to go in until Monday.”
He slowly smiled back. “Did you have something else in mind for us to spend the weekend doing?”
