Page 53 of A Royal Menace

But I also know I can’t put the truth off any longer. I’m going to have to tell her, and it has to be tonight.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Callie

I checkmy phone again when I get home from work. My shoulders slump as I heave out a breath. Emmett still hasn’t texted me back. He never takes this long to respond.

Did I get too personal, asking about man problems like I did? I mean, it’s not like I gave him any specific details, or anything. He told me about his fiancée’s fatal accident. And he also told me we could stretch the “no personal information” rule if I ever needed to talk.

I’m probably overthinking it. Emmett was probably just busy when I texted and forgot to get back to me afterward. It happens. Right?

I’m not going to stress over it anymore. I have plans with Royal tonight. He’s the one I should be focused on, not an anonymous pen pal who obviously has more important things to do than chat with me.

God, I sound bitter, even to myself.

It’s fine. All good. I’m sure Emmett will get back to me, eventually. And if he doesn’t, it’s no big deal. Really. It’s fine.

Pushing him from my mind, I shower, shave, blow dry my hair into fat waves, then dress in my favorite jeans and a soft sweater that hangs off one shoulder with no bra. I smile around my toothbrush as I imagine Royal discovering its absence, and when I finish brushing my teeth, I apply some deodorant and spritz on some sweet-smelling perfume.

On my way to Royal’s, I stop by the store where I found his favorite beer to grab a six-pack. I don’t want to show up for dinner emptyhanded, and he appreciated the gesture last time. When I get back into my car, I flip down my visor to check my reflection. I only used a powder foundation, a swipe of dark mascara to make my eyes pop, and the peel-off lip stain I keep seeing all over social media. It makes me look prettier, and there’s very little to smudge or run should I end up staying the night. In other words, I won’t wake up looking like a demented clown.

At Royal’s apartment, I smile and jiggle the beer in the air when he swings the door open. His eyes widen as they bypass my offering to blaze a trail down my body and back up again. Grabbing my free hand, he groans and tugs me inside before he kicks the door closed. Then he pulls me into his arms for a long hug.

Kissing my temple, he murmurs, “You looksogood right now.”

“Thanks. So do you,” I say when he releases me.

He’s wearing a pair of dark-washed jeans and a light blue button-down with the sleeves cuffed to his elbows. He obviously knows I like looking at his forearms since he wears his shirts like that every time I see him outside of work.

“Thanks,” he says, then takes the beer from me, adding, “And thanks for this. Go ahead and take a seat at the table. Dinner is almost ready.”

“It smells delicious,” I call out as he walks to the refrigerator to stow the six-pack. “What are you making?”

“Parmesan-crusted chicken, fettucine, and Caesar salad,” he calls out as he opens the oven.

“Sounds wonderful.”

“I hope it is,” he says as he straightens and turns toward me. “What would you like to drink? I have white wine and red, the beer you brought, of course, or I can mix you a vodka soda. Or if you don’t want alcohol, I’ve got sparkling or flat water, some lemon-lime sodas, and apple juice.”

“I feel like I’m at a restaurant, with all those options,” I tease, and one corner of his mouth lifts into a twisted smile. “I’ll just have ice water, please. Flat.”

“You got it,” he says with a grin before making my drink and bringing it over to me.

Just watching him walk toward me makes my heart thump and my thighs squeeze together. Yeah. I don’t want to be even slightly buzzed tonight. I want to be clear-headed and present for every second.

After making himself a glass of ice water, too, Royal takes a sip and sets it aside before pulling the chicken from the oven. Plating up the meat, some noodles, and a small heap of salad for both of us, he brings a steaming plate to me before going back for his own and his glass of water.

Sliding into the chair across from me, he smiles and says, “Bon appétit.”

Picking up the cloth napkin next to my plate, I spread it over my lap before picking up my fork and taking a bite of my salad. I nod at Royal, who’s watching me expectantly, to let him know it’s good. He watches me as he eats, making sure I like the pastaand the chicken, too, then seems to relax when I gush over how delicious it is.

“Tell me your favorite childhood memory,” he says, and I squint one eye as I think.

“If I have to pick,” I say slowly, “I’d say it’s the year my parents took me and my sister to Big Bear for winter break. We rented a cabin for a week with a view of the lake, and it snowed all day on Christmas. We built a snowman, went sledding, and had a few snowball fights. I was eleven, and it was pure heaven. I’ve loved the snow ever since.”

“It sounds magical,” he says quietly. “Do your parents live nearby?”

“Not too far,” I say after eating another bite of chicken. “They’re retired, and they moved to a senior community near Las Vegas. Joey and I try to visit every couple of months, and on holidays, they come to us.”

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