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“It is impossible, Olivia.”
“Don’t talk to me about impossible, ok? I have survived all three of my assassination attempts.”
“So have I,” he murmurs, his eyes on mine.
“And then some.”
He smiles. I know that smile. It’s his drowning smile. I hate it.
“Don’t…” my breath catches. I climb down to stand on my feet, but his arms are still around me, his body pressed against mine, knee to knee, chest to chest. “We’ll figure it out, Marco, we can do this. As long as we both want it. We will figure it out, baby.”
I feel his legs give way and he stumbles against me as I call him that. He shuts his eyes, goes pale. I hold on to him tighter, and he exhales brokenly, clutching the insides of my arms as if I’m the only thing tethering him to life.
“You are killing me,” he whispers.
“We will,” I insist. Time is running out, they’ll come to bundle me into the limo any second now, and I won’t have said what I need to say. I won’t know how to contact him. “We have died so many times. How much harder can living be?”
He opens his eyes, looks at me.
“Much”, he says and I laugh. He laughs too.
“We can do this, ok? We’ll figure it out.”
“How?” There is so much hope in his voice. So much pain. It tears my heart in two.
I shrug. I’m still in his arms, and he’s still wrapped all around me. Not one of the guards surrounding us bats an eyelash—and they had better not. Marco doesn’t seem to be about to let me go, ever.
And that’s exactly how it should be.
“Ok,” he says. “Ok. I’ll try. For starters, we need to stop dying for each other.”
“I will if you will.”
“Oh, I won’t. I never will, Liv. I’m dying for you right now, my queen.”
“Well, as much as I love it when you’re cheesy, here’s an idea: How about living for me?” He smiles around my lips. “How about living with me? This crazy, devastating life? Would you live it with me?”
He lifts his head from mine, and my eyes meet the blue sea of his. They look as gorgeous as the first time I saw him, but now there is more there: They are familiar, loved. And they are filled to the brim with feelings.
For me.
“I can do that,” he says. “Been doing it for months, even though I was so far away from you.”
I open my lips to answer him, and also to kiss him some more if I’m being honest here, but my phone buzzes, interrupting me, and I stumble.
Marco is immediately alert. “Baby, what’s wrong?” Thick worry distorts his voice.
I would not even look at my phone, especially right now that I am in Marco’s arms, except for one thing: It pings with a specific, personalized sound I have saved specifically for this person. I know exactly who is texting me, but it’s such a weird time for them to do so, so something tells me that I really really should get that right now.
I grab the phone from my pocket, and quickly read the message.
/we the rotten royals/
Greetings from the Rottens, big sister. That was some speech *slow clap*. Do we think we are all grown up now? But seriously, I am honestly proud of who you have become. So freaking proud.
Not sure if the feeling is mutual. Actually, I’m pretty sure you don’t feel the same about me, but anyway. I thought you should know the truth now.
Or at least part of it.
