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We showered together and I used her favorite body wash, the kind that smelled like creamy jasmine. Then I dried her, rubbed lotion into her skin, and slipped one of my t-shirts over her head.
I left her in bed, propped on the headboard with the blankets tucked around her lap, and went to the kitchen.
Outside, the fire had died down to a thin column of smoke.
It was gone. It was all gone.
And yet, here in the ashes of it, a phoenix had risen.
I made myself a vodka soda and her a bowl of chocolate ice cream and went back up to our room.
“Can we get a TV for the bedroom?” she said the minute I’d sat down.
“Uh…no,” I said, handing her the ice cream.
“Merrick, why not? I’m tired of having to watch movies on my tablet.”
I sank down beside her, propping myself up on my pillow.
“They’re distracting,” I said. “When I’m in our bedroom, I want us to focus on each other.”
“I do too, but I also want to watch movies with you. In bed.”
“Clara,” I said firmly. “I’m not comfortable with it. Let’s redo the lounge and you can put a more comfortable couch and a larger TV in there. But having a TV in my bedroom is a hard limit for me.”
My room and my office were my sacred space. I didn’t want a portal to the outside world hanging on the wall.
She shoved a spoonful of ice cream in her mouth and swallowed. “You can be so particular sometimes.”
“TV doesn’t mix well with my brain,” I said. “It’s very distracting for me.”
“Oh,” she said, realizing what I was saying. “Sorry, I didn’t know it was like that. I thought it was just a preference. The lounge is fine for me.”
I held out my arm, setting aside my drink. She climbed into my lap and I stroked her hair until she’d finished her ice cream. Then I kissed her head.
“Thank you for being understanding with me,” I whispered. “Now, let’s get you into bed.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
CLARA
Three months before the wedding, I found myself crying in the kitchen.
It was all too much. Too many traditions, too many things I wasn’t allowed to choose on my own, too many eyes watching my every move.
The wedding had to be in a church, which I didn’t want. I had to wear baby blue and a crown of myrtle leaves, which I also didn’t want. I didn’t have anyone to walk me up the aisle, but I was required to be escorted up to Merrick.
Candice and Ophelia were so excited and it was brimming over and suffocating me. The entire organization buzzed with the anticipation of the Welsh King’s wedding. It was the event of the season, even outside the organization. Apparently there were several notable politicians and an actor coming.
I just wanted to scream.
Here I was, the bride, and it felt like I was the last person anyone cared about. It was all a buzz of gossip and the high pressure of hundreds of years of tradition.
The clock above the sink struck five and I knew Merrick would be home soon. He couldn’t find me like this, my eyes puffy and my hands wrinkled from washing dishes.
I never washed dishes or cleaned, but lately I was doing it for a distraction. My nervous energy was killing me.
The door banged open and someone strode down the hall. Not Merrick, he walked with an even, soft tread. This was a bit of a swagger—a familiar one at that.
