Page 108 of Scarred Crown

I read the note over and over, and the words swim around the card. The tone is so lighthearted, so easy, as though we’ll always be the best of friends. When did she write this? We haven’t felt like these people in months, at least not to me.

She wrote love, but it’s not the kind of love I want from her. Whatever switch flipped inside me, I have to find it and smash it.

We can’t go on like this, can we? It’s killing me.

I want my best friend back.

I don’t want to care that she’s screwing Alex.

I want her to be honest with me.

I never want to hear her say she’s in love with Alex.

I want her to love me the way I love her.

The last thought breaks me, and the sob I’ve been holding in for hours, days, months rushes out and into the quiet of the hospital room. I curl into myself, the card clutched in my hand.

If she has a front seat to my life, it’ll most likely be in a chair beside Alex. My heart, which is already cracked, shatters at the thought.

Alex will never let her go. Why would he ever let her go?

Nicholas

Julia’s heels click down the tiled hall, and while I’d normally watch her go—one of my favorite views—turning my back on Alex feels more dangerous than normal.

“You don’t have anywhere to be?” Alex asks. “Your wife isn’t so keen on you amusing yourself with crown bunnies, I suspect.”

Ah, my favorite term back in play. Alex wouldn’t have come up with that on his own. It’s a Julia expression, which means they’ve talked about me before. The idea of them sharing confidences makes me irrationally angry.

Every scrap she gave Alex should have been mine.

“I’ve always done more than galivant around the world, despite what you might think.”

“Yes, I heard about your latest venture in Tanzania. Cute name for your foundation, by the way.”

I can’t tell if it’s rage or a hint of embarrassment that causes my chest to heat. I’d love to fire whoever fed Alex the information on my charity and what I named it.

How can I have such an intense dislike for my brother? Isn’t there supposed to be some hero worship at play? TV shows, movies, and books always make the younger sibling look up to the older one. If I ever did, I don’t remember it.

“Was there something you wanted to discuss?” Alex asks, gesturing toward his office. “Or are we done here?”

I rub my temples and think of Jules. She’s right. We can’t keep on this way, but I’m afraid if I go into that office, Alex and I will come to blows. What’s worse? Veiled dislike or open hostility?

I step around him into his office, but I don’t sit down. At least I’ll be able to tell her I honestly tried.

“You and Jules seem to have an aversion to chairs today,” Alex says as he takes his seat behind his desk. “They’re perfectly comfortable, I assure you.”

“She was in here?” The question escapes before I can reign it in. The two of them alone with the door closed grates on me.

“Yes.” Alex meets my gaze but doesn’t say anything more.

He’s probably counting on my imagination and insecurity running wild where Jules is concerned. I hate that both are flaring to life inside me. She doesn’t want him—never has.

“Jules and I are married now. We’re staying married. We have a meeting in less than an hour to set our public wedding date.” I glare at him. “You can’t win her around anymore. She’s been won and not by you.”

“Does she know you talk about her like an object?”

I clench my jaw. He’s not dragging me into some feminist argument he probably doesn’t even care about. He’ll say anything to gain the upper hand. “She’s going to be part of this family as my wife. Whatever feelings you’re harboring for her, you need to let them go.”