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While I hate to be the bearer of bad news, especially when it’s been a while since I’ve seen them, they don’t seem to mind. That’s the type of friends they are. We can go weeks or months without talking and pick up right where we left off. Although, I doubt we’ve ever gone a day without at least sending an inappropriate meme in our group message.
“And you?” Marius asks after a beat. “What’s your plan going forward?”
I sigh, watching as a group of tourists pose for a selfie on a stone bridge spanning the short width of one of the many canals that snake through the city, cyclists zooming by on the dedicated bike paths our country is known for.
“My father asked me to temporarily resume my official duties as a royal to help take the pressure off Anderson while he adjusts to this new normal.”
“What did you tell him?” Harriet asks.
“As much as I hate the thought, it’s the least I can do, considering everything Anderson’s done for me since I left.”
I’d hoped as he went to his various doctor’s appointments, he’d be in a better head space, see this isn’t the death sentence he thought it was. While he hasn’t seemed as morose as he was that first day, he’s still not the same Anderson. Has still brought up removing himself from the line of succession.
Which is exactly why I have no choice but to stay. Not to take his place, but to show him he has my support. That he can still be an amazing leader, despite his diagnosis. That I’ll support him every step of the way, even if that support eventually comes from Paris instead of here.
“You’re a good sister.” Marius squeezes my hand, his blue eyes awash with sincerity and appreciation.
“He’d do the same for me,” I say without a moment’s hesitation. “Hell, hedidthe same for me, more or less.”
“How does Tristan feel about all of this?” Harriet asks after a long pause, smoothing a hand down her straight, dark hair.
“Supportive to a fault.” I pull back. “He’s agreed to stay with me as long as he can, but he does need to leave soon to start shooting his next film. It’s not the first time we’ve been away from each other for a long period of time. We’ve gotten through it before. We’ll get through this, too. Hopefully, in a few months, Anderson will be in a better place and I can return to Paris.”
“And Creed?” Harriet asks, almost hesitantly.
“What about him?” I sip on my tea, acting as nonchalant as possible, praying they don’t notice the way my cheeks heat from the mention of his name.
“I assume you’ve seen him since you’ve been here.”
I nod, keeping my shoulders square. “I have.”
“How did that go?” Marius arches a brow.
“Fine.” I wave them off, not looking directly at either of them. “It’s been nine years. It’s all water under the bridge.”
I’m not sure if I’m saying that for their benefit or mine. Itshouldbe water under the bridge. Especially after this long.
But if it’s water under the bridge, why does my heart skip a beat every time my eyes lock with his? Why does my body hum with electricity every time I hear his deep voice?
Why did I picture Creed’s eyes when Tristan made love to me last night? And every night since I’ve been back here?
“Exactly.” Marius glances at Harriet. “I told you it wouldn’t be a big deal. She’s moved on and is with someone else. They both are.”
His words steal my breath, his statement a punch to the gut. “What do you mean?”
“You and Tristan. Creed and Rory,” he replies, looking at me like I’m crazy.
I blink repeatedly, the air whooshing from my lungs as a boulder lodges in my throat.
“Marius,” Harriet mutters under her breath.
“What?” He furrows his brows at her. “You can’t tell me she didn’t know. Granted, I never mentioned it because we’ve had a firm ‘No Creed talk’ rule, but…” He trails off when he floats his gaze toward me. His eyes instantly widen as realization sinks in. “You really didn’t know? I figured your brother would have mentioned something since Creed’s been his CPO for, like, over five years.”
I blink back the tears threatening to fall, my eyes burning.
Why does this news hurt so much? I’m with Tristan. IloveTristan. But I can’t fool myself into thinking what I have with Tristan is even remotely close to what I shared with Creed Lawson.
“How long have they been together?” I ask, doing my best to keep my voice as even as possible.
