Because she couldn’t make her mouth form the words.
Because if she spoke, it might be a lie.
He watched her, as if deliberating the gap between what she’d said and what she hadn’t.
He didn’t push. But she could feel it. The calculation. The same instinct he used to price acquisitions, predict board moves, and win. Now quietly measuring her.
He wanted to believe her. The way she wanted to be sure.
Love dwelt in the stillness between them, unarmored and uncertain. Holding its ground, for now, against the rising tide.
And neither one said more.
Bea’s bedroom smelled like hairspray, citrus cleanser, and something faintly toasted—Georgina’s emergency protein waffles from earlier.
Behind them, a curling wand beeped. Steam lifted from a flat iron clamped onto Bea’s half-finished waves. Makeup bags and phone chargers were scattered on the dresser, and three different perfumes fought for dominance.
“So tonight we take Isabel out as part of her recovery program since breaking up with Mason. Then in two days we’re having dinner with Lillian, the shyest Australian I’ve ever met, and herboyfriendAdam. And in a few weeks, we’ve got Naomi’s hens,” Georgie recited. She was coating her lashes in front of the mirror. “This year hasreallyput out.”
Bea pulled her top down over her hips. “Speaking of putting out…what’s the goss on Hunter?”
“We’re happy as we are.”
“We, oryou?”
Georgie smirked. “Same, same.”
“Not sure he’d agree, Georgie.”
That earned no reply. Just a tight little smile as Georgina reached for her earrings, suddenly very focused on getting the backs to click into place.
Georgina caught her eye. “How about we talk aboutyouand my cousin, eh?”
Bea tried not to flinch. Failed.
“I really thought you’d have a rock by now, Bey,” Georgie said, conversational. “Somethingsubstantial.”
Bea shrugged, or tried to. “He’s giving me time.”
“Or,” Georgina said, twisting in her seat, “he feels like you’re not ready to say yes.”
Bea’s heart gave a traitorous thud. Why did the truth always sound worse when someone else said it?
Carefully, she put down the flat iron.
“Is it London? Or is it everything?” Georgie asked.
Bea hesitated. “It started with London.” A beat. “Then it became everything.”
“Becoming a King.”
“Especially that,” Bea said softly.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
A smile spread slowly on Georgina’s face. “Okay, I know it’s serious, but…can we just take one second to acknowledge howridiculouslyiconic it would be if you married him? We’d officially be family.”
Bea exhaled a laugh despite herself. “That would be one of the many benefits.”
