I’m not sure where he’s going with this, but the fact my father is unwilling to give up on the idea of me and Jackson together is heartening. “What do you mean?”
“You take some time away from Bretaria. Go to the States and spend it with your young man. Be free to live a life you never thought of having because of the responsibilities upon you.”
“For how long?” I ask dubiously.
“I’m a fit and healthy king,” he says, his chin lifted in pride. “It will be decades before I step down. Take all the time you want.”
I feel light-headed. While I couldn’t stay gone from Bretaria for decades, I would love the opportunity to see how my relationship with Jackson would develop. At the very least, I’d like to talk to him about the what-ifs and maybes. The one thing my father just did was offer me options.
Plenty of them.
Now I just need to see if Jackson is interested in exploring them with me. But he told me he loved me, so I have to trust that he will.
“I should go call him,” I say to my father.
He in turn makes a scoffing noise and looks at me with disappointment. “My dear… you would be missing out on the highest opportunity for romance if you didn’t get on a plane and follow your man to talk about this in person.”
“He has my plane,” I point out.
“It so happens I have a few of my own,” he retorts. “You may borrow one.”
“Now?” I ask incredulously.
My father shakes his head and once again tucks my hand into his elbow. He leads me up the stairs. “First, you need to get some sleep, as do I. Rest, and we’ll ship you off soon enough.”
“Should I call him or let it be a surprise when I show up?” I ask, almost giddy with excitement.
Chuckling, my father chides, “Where is your sense of romance? Of course, you show up as a surprise with no warning. Honestly, have you learned nothing from the way I romance your mother?”
I giggle and listen to my father elaborate on some of his better schemes as we ascend the stairs.
CHAPTER 25
Jackson
Christ, I’m tired. I thought I’d crash on the flight and be somewhat refreshed, but I couldn’t sleep. All I could think about was leaving Camille back at the Bretaria airport, crying her eyes out.
Both of us finally saying what we’d been feeling.
That we love each other.
Then we parted, and that was that.
There’s nothing at peace within me, and I could not find enough calm to close my eyes and sleep. Everything feels wrong, and I’m wound tight as a clock.
Living at the Jameson headquarters in one of the five apartments Kynan built on the fourth floor is quite the convenience when it comes to my commute. I get home at almost 7:00 a.m. Kynan texted me earlier to relax and rest today, that we would talk and debrief tomorrow.
But I don’t want to wait for tomorrow. I unpack, start some laundry, and make myself an omelet. I shower, throw on some clothes, and now with a tumbler of coffee in hand, I make my way down to the second floor where Kynan’s office is located.
I pass several teammates and coworkers along the way. Ladd is at his desk in the pit and calls out, “Welcome back, asshole.”
“Bite me, dickwad,” I reply affectionately. There’s some good in being back.
“Lunch?” he asks, and I give him a thumbs-up. I’ve been craving Primanti’s.
As I approach Kynan’s office, which has glass walls just like all the perimeter offices, I note that he is alone. I’m glad—I want to get this over with, and waiting isn’t my strong suit.
He glances up and sees me approaching, so I don’t need to knock. He waves me in and stands from his desk, reaching out his hand. “Welcome back,” he says jovially.
We clasp hands. “Thanks. Good to be back.”
Lie.
Kynan motions to a chair and I sit. “What are you doing here?” he asks, sitting again. “Our debrief isn’t until tomorrow. Thought you’d be catching up on some sleep.”
“Yeah, well, I thought if it’s okay with you, we’d just knock it out.”
“Of course,” Kynan replies and settles back in his chair. “I got your written report up through the day before the birthday party.”
And he knows what happened at the party as we had a lengthy conversation not long after I took out the assassin with a well-placed and very painful shot to the back of her knee. She’ll have a limp the rest of her life, but it’s not like she’ll need to walk very far in prison. She’ll be just fine.
“I have to say,” Kynan drawls, leaning back and clasping his hands behind his head, “this has turned out to be one of the more exciting missions. Although Saint might give you a run for your money with his heist shenanigans.”