Page 57

EMORY

I feel like an outsider for the first time in weeks. We traipse along the garden path, then out onto the lawn toward the cliffs. Aiden is talking with Whit. Sienna is elbowing Tristan, who is laughing about something.

Dusty trots along behind me, pressing his nose to my legs now and then like he knows I need the comfort.

Whit being here changes everything. He was a face over text before, and I know he likes me, but now they’re a family and I’m just…

me. When we get to the massive sailboat, I make myself busy doing whatever Tristan tells me to do and trying not to ogle Aiden too obviously as he expertly starts prepping the boat for a day on the water.

The siblings don’t know about our relationship, and maybe they’ve guessed, but it just feels weird.

The boat is one I’ve never been on before, and it’s massive.

Sixty-plus feet, with an entire living space below deck, including space for crew.

There are cream leather cushions at the bow and the stern and a jet ski at the back that Sienna says she can’t wait to ride.

She and Whit bicker when he says he’s going to use it first, and then she threatens him with bodily harm.

I make myself comfortable at the bow while Aiden drives us out, but when we anchor and the wind dies, it suddenly seems like coming out here was a very bad idea.

I don’t belong here. I shouldn’t care, but I want to belong.

The traitorous thought worms into me. I want to stay.

I squeeze my eyes shut and thread my fingers through Dusty’s fur.

If I’m honest with myself, I’ve felt in between for a long time.

Not really a Hunter and not a Prince. Aiden’s wife, but not.

Part of his world in name, but not in reputation.

“I have a surprise,” Sienna crows from behind me, and I hear groans from the boys.

I turn, smiling as she holds something in the air and Whit tries to grab it.

“Ladies first, Whittaker,” she admonishes before she takes a hit of the joint in her hand.

Tristan groans. “Si-Si, I hate sailing high.”

She blows the smoke out. “I don’t care what you like.” She takes another puff and passes it to Whit. “I’m very stressed out. Plus, I’m a doctor. You can trust me.” She looks at me and winks.

Aiden rounds the corner onto the prow, and his eyes find me immediately. There’s a smile in his eyes that makes my heart flip.

Hi , he mouths.

Hi , I mouth back.

In front of his siblings, it feels like we’re doing something forbidden. Like we have a delicious secret. We’re sleeping together. We like each other, something our families could never fathom.

He settles next to me on the cushions, bumping me with his shoulder. “Best spot on the boat,” he says.

I lean into his warmth. He smells like summer—sun and wind and salt. That’s his signature scent, I realize with a jolt. Summer. He always smells like summer from being out on the boat. I wonder if he smells like that year-round.

I’ll never find out, and that feels like a crime. It feels devastating that I won’t know if Aiden Prince smells like summer in December.

“You want?” Sienna practically shoves the joint under my nose, jolting me from my thoughts. I take it, my eyes flicking to Aiden’s.

“It’s not that strong,” Sienna says encouragingly.

“Don’t believe her,” Tristan shouts from where he’s popping open a hidden cooler.

Aiden’s mouth curves up. “We’re relighting the spark, right?” I ask him.

“I’m in if you are,” he says.

There are surprised noises from his siblings.

He accepts the joint, takes a small pull, then leans over and blows the smoke into my mouth.

My whole body comes alive, from the acrid smoke, from his soft mouth, from his nearness.

He lingers there, and for a second I think he’s going to kiss me, but the siblings whoop, and he pulls away, smiling sheepishly.

He offers me the joint, but I can already feel the warmth of the high settling into me, so I shake my head.

“I never smoke,” I tell him. “I mean, I know it’s legal now, but I’m so rarely in a place where I can just let go.”

He lies back. “Me neither,” he admits, then pats the space next to him. “Come on. If you never do it, you should enjoy it.”

There’s a hum of conversation behind us, then a heated discussion about how many people can fit on a Jet Ski before the siblings wander off.

I fit my body next to his on the sun-warmed leather, our hands almost touching, our arms skimming. From this position, all I see are sky and clouds, all I feel is heat and him .

“Am I high, or is it normal that I can feel your heartbeat in your arm?” I whisper.

He snorts a laugh. “You’re totally high.”

“I think I’m a lightweight.” I twine my arms above my head, stretching under the sun.

“I think you are,” he agrees. “Also, never trust my sister.” His fingers trail up and down my arm, and my focus goes to each spot where he’s touching me.

Shoulder, biceps, forearm, hand, then back up.

Time feels like it stretches. With someone else, I’d feel pressure to make conversation, but with Aiden, I never feel that.

He listens when he needs to, talks when he needs to, but things never feel forced with him.

I shut my eyes and listen to the gulls calling before I stretch my hand out and run my fingers up Aiden’s arm. He makes a little sound of pleasure in his throat as I stroke his skin.

“You’re softer than I realized,” I whisper.

“Why are you whispering?” His voice is amused.

“It just feels right.”

He chuckles, more vibration than sound. A cloud shadow passes over my face as I try to memorize the texture of his skin. Crisp hair, firm muscle, smooth silk on the underside of his wrist.

“You ever think about after?” he asks after a few heartbeats.

Time pulls like taffy. My eyes are shut, and my consciousness is half on the sun, half on the goose bumps Aiden is raising with his fingers as he scratches his nails against my wrist.

“After what?”

“All this.” His voice is drowsy, but there’s a jolt inside me that I know would be stronger if I weren’t high.

I try to grasp the feelings I felt earlier—awkwardness, embarrassment, want—but they’ve floated away. All that’s left is the warmth of his hand, the closeness of his body, the scent of his skin.

No pressure.

No past.

“Sometimes,” I say. “I try not to.”

“Me too. I can feel my body counting down. Like there’s a doomsday clock inside my heart.”

He sounds wistful, and my chest aches briefly before the feeling floats away.

“I think that’s the weed,” I say dryly.

He pokes me in the arm, even as a laugh rumbles up from his chest. “I’m serious,” he says.

I can hear the smile in his voice. “You sound totally serious.”

He groans. “I am. I just wonder—Will I still see you? What will it be like when we run into each other in town?”

“Well, with our shared custody of Dusty, I’m sure I’ll see you now and then.” There’s a tendril of discomfort at the thought.

Aiden, a stranger, when I know the husky texture of his laugh, the sneaky curve of his grin, the glint in his eye when we’re sharing looks across a room.

“True.” He makes a considering sound. “We have to do what’s right for our son. I mean, look at him.”

We look.

Dusty is licking his butt.

“He’s devastated,” Aiden whispers.

I snort a laugh.

“Don’t tell him Mommy and Daddy are fighting.” Aiden’s voice has laughter in it, and warmth curls inside me, even with the heaviness of my chest.

I’m silent for a few moments, thinking about after and hating that after even exists.

“You good there, pretty girl? You looked sad earlier.”

Pretty girl.

I like how the words make warmth pulse inside me.

“I can feel you building those walls up,” he murmurs. “Don’t build them up with me.”

I take a long, shuddering breath and let it out. “For the first time, it feels like I don’t belong here. Is that weird?”

“Not weird.” He tangles his fingers with mine, loose enough that he can run his thumb along the ridges of my palm. I tilt my head to see him staring at the sky, his sunglasses making him look like a movie star on vacation.

Or the best man I’ve ever known.

“It’s not weird,” he repeats, “but I hate that you feel that way.” He swallows.

“You have a place here, Emory. Whenever you want it. I don’t want to wonder when I’m going to see you.

You need a friend? I’m there. You don’t want to see me?

Sienna already asked if she could hang out with you when we divorce.

You need protection? Katie told me she thought she should keep driving you to work.

Tristan thinks we should do a joint venture and Whit wants to know if you’re interested in season tickets for next year. ”

“What?” Joy and sadness tangle in a lump that blocks my throat.

He tips his head so he can smile at me. “You’re a Prince now, Em.”

“Not a Prince,” I whisper.

“A Prince-Hunter, then,” he says, still smiling gently at me. “We’re not letting you go. Deal with it.”

He looks back at the sky and I blink my eyes to clear my vision.

I feel lucky just to know Aiden Prince.

“Your future wife won’t like that,” I say lightly. The weed must be making me brave, because I’d never bring this up normally.

He makes a sound of disagreement. “There won’t be a future wife.”

I can’t deny the satisfaction that thrums through me, but it’s followed quickly by an ache. I lever up to look at him. His eyes are on the clouds, half lidded and hazy as he turns to look at me.

“Don’t be sad for me, Em. I never wanted to be married.” He runs his thumb under my jaw, up my cheek.

“Why not?”

“Too many expectations.”

I think back to the conversation we had the day we agreed to this arrangement. Aiden’s nonchalance about a marriage that was a mere business arrangement, my insistence that we put a deadline on things.

Fool.

“But you’ve had relationships before,” I say hesitantly. “I mean, I’ve seen them in the tabloids.”

His eyes light. “You looked.”

“Did not.”

“You so did.” He looks way too pleased with himself.