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Home.
I let out a sigh of relief. This is our home now.
After the meeting I just had with the King, the debt my family owes to the royal family is more than paid.
I am not sure that Etienne will like how I put an end to the King’s meddling in our lives, but at least we can take some time alone as a couple. Really alone.
My body, my mind, know that he’s home. The door closes, and he hangs the key in the nook by the front door. Unties his shoes. These are the everyday things I get to hear now that I’m his. He’s mine.
Etienne comes over to the sofa and flops down beside me.
“Well?”
He stretches out and reaches for me.
I hold my breath as a thrill runs through me at his touch. Be brave, girl.
“It went well. Better than expected,” I say, blowing out an uncertain breath.
“And?” he says, shooting me his mischievous smile because he knows I’m hesitating to tell him everything. He tugs me forward, and I give in, letting him guide me until I rest against his chest, our legs cozily tangled together. Etienne’s hand strokes up and down my spine, and my eyes flutter closed at how good that feels.
“And it’s done. I am no longer the owner of Frost Bay Beverages.”
His hand stills in the middle of my back. “What? What did my father do? He can’t do that…I’ll meet with him and hire my own lawyer.”
“Etienne,” I say, unable to stop the smile from forming on my lips. He’s getting all worked up on my behalf. Outraged, even. There’s no need, of course, but it is sweet of him to care. He cares so much it squeezes my heart.
“No,” he says, his voice a rasp. “He can’t do this to my wife.”
At that, my nipples harden, and I pray he can’t feel that through my sweater.
“I sold out to him at a fair price. Willingly. Happily.”
He goes quiet, but his breathing still feels rapid underneath me.
“But why?”
I strain my neck to meet his gaze. “Because I…”
I pause, then, because at his noticing my neck straining, Etienne adjusts his body so that we’re lying on our sides, face to face, his arm my pillow.
“Go on,” he says.
“Because I don’t want to run a beer company. I never wanted to run a beer company.”
“But…your grandfather…”
I nod. “I know. But I knew the man pretty well. And I think he’d agree with my decision. Especially if I intend to help my husband in his decision to avoid alcohol, all the better if I don’t spend my days peddling beer.”
He says nothing for a time, then shakes his head. “I have no words, and barely any thoughts. How do I respond to something like that? What do I say to the person who has given up everything for me?”
I see where this is going, and I’m ready for it. “I already know what you’re going to say. That it’s too much.”
“Itistoo much, Kala,” he says, his voice cracking.
I am prepared for this reaction from him. “It looks that way to you because nobody has ever sacrificed anything big for your benefit. I want to help you live your life. If that means honoring your wish to not drink again, this is one small thing I can do.”
“Small?” he croaks.
