Page 66 of Fallen Crown

“I’m aware.”

“Right now, InterFlix has a story about my father and your divorce.”

Iris lowers her camera and takes a seat on a rock not far from us. “Carry on,” she says, switching the camera off. “I don’t care about your plot for airtime or to fool the world, and InterFlix will want people to believe that whatever they see is real. This isn’t Survivor. No one needs an alliance.”

“You could always grab some individuals with Riker and Wren,” I suggest. Inside, I’m smiling because this is exactly what I wanted.

“Good idea.” She heaves herself off the rock and wanders back to the other two.

As soon as she’s out of earshot, I rub my face and try to gather my thoughts.

“You wanted her gone,” Tucker says.

“Are you definitely getting a divorce?” It’s the closest I’ll come to asking her what I really want to know.

“I filed the paperwork for the separation. Divorce comes after that, I guess. It’s not like I’ve done it before.”

“I know I said you could behave any way you wanted with me, but now I’m second-guessing how I’m supposed to be with you.”

“If it helps, I’m fine with you being how you normally are.”

“Normal me is very flirty and affectionate.”

“Hard to believe, but I’ve been in the room for those interactions.” She gives me a teasing smile.

“InterFlix will make it appear as though you and I are…” I fumble for the best way to phrase my concern. “I’m not the kind of guy women settle down with. I’m a fling. I’m not a relationship.”

An unfamiliar expression clouds her face, but the emotion is so swift, I can’t catch it.

“I’ll look like your rebound. Like you’re rebounding out of your marriage with me,” I say.

“Maybe or maybe we’ll just look like good friends who have spent a lot of time training together. We won’t be alone on the course. Iris and the rest of the team will always be with us.” She crosses her arms. “But if you want to be my rebound, I would be fine with that.”

No woman has ever described a relationship with me so dispassionately and with so little care. I started this conversation with Tucker, but somewhere along the line, we’ve switched to Maren, and I’m not sure what I said wrong to get us there. Last week, Tucker was grinding on my lap and murmuring my name with so much intensity I thought she might come all over me. That’s the level of enthusiasm I wanted this conversation to have. More of a fuck me than a fuck you, energy.

“To recap, I can behave any way I want around you. If InterFlix edits everything to make it appear as though you’ve rebounded into my bed, you’re completely cool with that.”

“There are no beds out here.” She flushes and glances away.

“Maren.”

“What do you want me to say?” Maren asks, stepping closer. “I gave you the answer you wanted, didn’t I? A fling, a rebound, nothing serious.”

“That’s not—”

“I’m getting a divorce, so it’s not as though I’m looking to jump from one relationship into another.”

I cross my arms and stare at her while I take in her claim. Something about her attitude doesn’t sit right with me, but I can’t put my finger on which part. Her words sound true, but to me, it doesn’t feel true. Not sure if that’s a me problem or a her problem.

“We need to get moving again, or we’ll lose time and positions.” She walks away from me. “I’ll take my lead from you,” she says. “You know this aspect of things better than me.”

Her decision should make me feel better. I can go back to flirting and affection, and she’s given me permission to do both on camera. Her marriage, which is currently on life support, will be dead. Guaranteed. I should be happy about all that.

Except I always pictured her agreeing to be with me, any version of being with me, with a hell of a lot more enthusiasm. Her begrudging acceptance doesn’t feel like a win at all.

Luckily, I am not easily deterred, and since she agreed, I have slung my arm around her with planned casualness, kissed her temple and dropped a few well-timed dad jokes that almost got a smile. Maren is still in charge, but I’m warming her up one degree at a time. Soon enough, I’ll have Tucker back. If I was the manipulative sort, I’d bring up my dad, but that would betray them both.

Two hours later, we’re climbing onto bikes, and Iris is slipping into the vehicle that will ride along beside us while Iris films. It’s a smart move on Iris’s part because it’s starting to drizzle. The claylike surface of the road is going to become impossible to navigate, even on a mountain bike. Tucker warned me, whenever I complained about doing Mount Juniper in the rain, that we were racing in Fiji during the wet season. She forgot to mention the red dirt paths.