Page 101 of Ardently Yours

The look on Charlotte’s face last night gutted me. But far worse was the fact that Ididn’tknow if they were going to survive.

We planned for a calm, coordinated introduction to public life for Charlotte. We were supposed to have everything in place, including a PR package designed to present our relationship in both the most boring and most positive light.

Instead, we’re starting with an uncontrolled media blitz.

Charlotte is laughing with Bronnie because she thinks it’s over. She doesn’t understand. It’s only just begun.

Stay Or Leave

Charlotte

The sound of newshelicopters whir in the background. People with cameras and video equipment repeatedly try to pull up to the dock in boats, and Arden’s security team keeps chasing them away.

This cabin is set back a half-mile driveway from the main road, but the exit to that driveway is currently blocked by television vans and reporters. The only thing keeping them away from the cabin is Arden’s security team and a padlocked iron gate.

Bronnie and I slept until nearly twelve p.m. Everyone else was awake when we finally came downstairs, but Arden and I have barely had an opportunity to speak with each other in the last two hours.

A killer tension headache squeezes my temples in a vise as I try to work through what happens next. This is so,somuch worse than I’d imagined. I’d thought I’d have time to prepare. I didn’t imagine them converging when I was struck dumb by terror. The fear has waned, but the remnants of it remain, leaving me sick and hollowed out.

Arden is busy with his team, and, considering how I got in his way last night, the only thing I can do is back off and wait for him to have time to talk to me.

He glanced my way when Bronnie and I came downstairs and gave me a weary-looking smile. But he was too busy arranging practicalities and coordinating with his public relations team for the two of us to talk. He’ll have to loop me into the PR conversation soon, though.

Bronnie sits on my lap on the sofa with a coloring book and crayons while Arden and a few of the guys stand quietly talking near the stairs. The boys are on the other side of the great room building a highway out of a toy race-car track. I haven’t let go of her since I picked her up on the dock. She squirms to get down, and, reluctantly, I release my hold.

“You ready for a snack?” I ask.

Bronnie nods. “I’m feeling peckish.”

I tweak her pale blonde pigtail. “You’repeckish?”

She nods across the room. “That’s what Henry says when he’s hungry, but not”—she makes her T-Rex impression and roars—“hungry hungry.”

“You like Henry?”

“Yeah. We talked about what it was going to be like to be a brother and sister, and he and Gabriel said they’d be a good brother to a sister. And I’ll be the best sister because I’m funny and cuteandannoying, which is the requirement.” She pronounces “requirement” as “we-kwyo-ment.”

“You guys decided, huh? That’s kind of fast.”

She shrugs. “Henry and Gabriel and me decided we like all the people in the family so everybody gets to be a sister or brother or mommy and daddy. Then I’m going to have a daddy who smells good and carries me when my legs get tired and picks me first for teams. I have a heaven dad who looks at me from clouds, but he doesn’t answer when I talk to him. So I want a dad with skin ontoo. And Henry and Gabriel get a mom who makes potato salad and reads stories. ’ Cause angel hugs are good, but sometimes you need arm hugs too.”

I squeeze my eyes closed, my nose burning, my throat tight. “What do you think about the people outside with cameras?”

I don’t want to specifically ask if she’s afraid and make her think she should be. But I need to know how she feels.

She frowns. “Mr. Reese and Mr. Brock make them stay back. They don’t let them touch.”

“Yes. Or people like Mr. Reese.”

She shrugs. “They’re not as bad as the chickens. They get loud too, but Reginald is a mean sonsabeach.”

I gasp. “Who taught you that word?”

“Grandma.” She shrugs with her hand lifted and splayed wide. “I don’t care about none of those noisy people. Gabriel says, ‘Talk to the hand. Don’t look at them. Keep walking.’”

“Miss Charlotte?” I look up to find Henry standing in front of us. “I’m sorry I scared you last night. I hope you don’t go away because of it. I don’t mind if you tell me to wash my ears. I promise.”

My chest squeezes at the worry on his face. “Thank you for apologizing. I was scared, but I’m not angry at you for making a mistake, and I never was. I won’t ever go away because ofanythingyou do.”

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