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The instant I smell the comforting aroma of garlic and chicken, my stomach growls.
“Hungry?” he jokes as he assumes the chair beside me.
“Famished.”
“Then eat.”
I dig into the soup, moaning at the flavor. “Delicious.”
“I’m glad you think so.” Tristan remarks around a mouthful of food. “Although it’s not nearly as good as your cooking.Nothingis as good as your cooking.”
“You’re just saying that because you have to.”
“I don’t have to do anything. I say it because it’s true. You’re extremely talented.”
I lean toward him, touching my mouth to his. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He briefly deepens the kiss before straightening, dipping a chunk of bread into the broth and taking a bite. “So how did things go with your father?”
“Oh, right.” I dab at my mouth, having momentarily forgotten the conversation we started earlier. “He wanted to talk to me about Anderson. His prognosis and whatnot.”
“How was your brother once I left? Get any better?”
I smile sadly. “Worse. He’s in the depression stage of grief and I’m not sure he’ll ever get to acceptance. My father’s concerned, and rightfully so. Not just about the physical implications of his diagnosis, but also the mental.”
Tristan nods, expression awash with sympathy. “That’s understandable.”
“Because of that, he requested I be there for Anderson as much as possible.”
“Pretty sure you’ve always been there for your brother.”
“Not just emotionally.” I bring my eyes to his. “Physically, too. He… He asked me to stay. And to temporarily resume my duties as a royal in order to take some of the pressure off Anderson so he can focus on his wellbeing —physicalandmental.”
“I see.” A contemplative expression crosses his brow. “What do you want?”
On a long sigh, I look forward as I wrack my brain for an answer.
Tristan was one of the first people in my life to always ask me what I wanted. Back then, it was a breath of fresh air to have a say in my future. To make my own decisions.
Now it’s a reminder of everything I’ll have to give up.
“I want my brother not to have MS. Want him to be happy. Want him to go to sleep every night without the crippling fear that he’ll never be able to live a full life.”
I pause, sucking in a deep breath to settle my emotions. Something about being back in this place has me wanting to keep them locked up tight yet again.
“But right now, it doesn’t matter what I want. All that does is what my brother needs.”
“And he needs you,” Tristan states very matter-of-factly.
I give him a sad smile. “He does. He needs time to adjust to what will become his new normal. He shouldn’t have to do that while attending to his official duties as Crown Prince. This will obviously interfere with my plan to come to California with you for your next film shoot.”
“I don’t care about that.” He waves me off. “While it’ll suck to be thousands of miles away, I don’t want you to feel like you’re letting me down by putting your family first. This is your life. Your decision. You have to do what’s best for you.” He narrows his gaze in concern, his voice dropping. “Will undertaking your official duties again be what’s best for you?”
I’ve never gone into detail about what led me to essentially cut off all communication with my father and everything to do with the monarchy. The establishment had released a statement that I was taking some time out of the spotlight after my “breakup” with Jameson Gates and nearly dying in the attack on the SUV that took Adam’s life. I more or less let Tristan believe that to be the case. It wasn’tthatfar from the truth. Ididneed some time out of the spotlight.
It’s not the entire reason, though.
I didn’t think it mattered. Didn’t think I’d return to this place. Or maybe I didn’t think Tristan and I would ever be as serious as we are.
