Page 55 of Her Royal Christmas

“Sometimes it feels like all I do is fail,” Erin murmured. “I can’t keep the kids from running riot, I can’t keep Vic from panicking, I can’t even protect you from everything?—”

“You did protect me,” Alex said. “You always protect me.”

Erin shook her head. “That’s my job.”

“And your love,” Alex said quietly. “These days it is your love, not your job.”

Erin looked down at her gloved hands on the railing, snow gathering on the sleeves of her coat. “I’m scared,” she admitted.

Alex’s breath caught. “Of what?”

“That this is what our life is now,” Erin said. “Constant crisis. Desperately trying to be the best parents we can be. No time for each other. No intimacy. Passing each other like colleagues with different shifts. I’m scared that wanting you… hurts too much.”

Alex felt something fracture inside her. A small sound escaped her—half gasp, half sob—and Erin’s head snapped up, alarmed.

“No, love, I didn’t mean?—”

Alex stepped closer. “You’re allowed to say it. I feel it too.”

Erin stared at her, snowflakes melting on her lashes.

“I miss our bed,” Alex whispered.

Erin swallowed. “I miss your hands.”

“I miss your mouth,” Alex said, voice trembling.

Erin looked wrecked. “Alex…”

Alex slipped one gloved hand up to Erin’s cheek, cupping it gently. Erin leaned into the touch like she’d been starved for it.

“Do you still want me?” Alex asked, hating how vulnerable her voice sounded.

Erin looked shocked. Then heartbroken. “Alex—God—yes. Of course I want you. It aches. I want you so badly it feels like a wire pulled tight inside me.”

Alex let out a shaky breath. “Then we find our way back.”

Erin’s eyes flickered with doubt. “How? Where?”

“Here,” Alex whispered. “Now.”

Before Erin could respond, Alex leaned in on her tiptoes—very slowly, giving her time to pull away, to say no, to remain the professional Erin Kennedy who always prioritised safety and propriety and duty.

Erin didn’t move.

Not away. Not even a millimetre.

Snowflakes drifted around them. The dogs sat silently, as though sensing something reverent unfolding. Even the wind stilled.

Alex’s lips brushed Erin’s cheek first—a soft, tentative touch.

Erin exhaled shakily.

Alex kissed her there again, just below her cheekbone, then lower, near the corner of her mouth, tasting snow and warm skin.

“Alex,” Erin whispered.

Alex’s hand slipped from Erin’s cheek to her jaw, thumb stroking lightly.