Page 96 of Sliding into Love
Kenneth: Thank god. I'll leave the door unlocked.
Royce: Then I'll let myself in.
Kenneth: Okay.
I settle back on the couch to wait. I must doze off at some point because the sound of the door opening startles me awake.
Royce steps inside, looking exhausted but unharmed. They lock the door behind them, kick off their boots, and drop their jacket on the chair before crossing to where I'm sitting.
"Hi," they say quietly.
"Hi." I reach for them, and they come willingly, laying beside me on the couch and burying their face in my neck. "You okay?"
"Tired. But okay." They're quiet for a moment, then add, "Everyone's safe. That's what matters."
I hold them close, feeling the tension slowly drain from their body. We sit like that for a long time, neither of us speaking, just being together.
Finally, Royce pulls back enough to look at me. "We should talk."
"Yeah," I agree. "We should. Just not tonight. I want to hold you. To know you’re safe here with me.”
“That I can do, Little Menace.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
ROYCE
Crystal chandeliers castwarm light over tables draped in white linen, each centerpiece an arrangement of white roses and gold accents. The Bellport Foundation's annual gala is always impressive, but this year Mama outdid herself.
Every detail is perfect, from the live orchestra in the corner to the carefully curated guest list of donors, politicians, and business leaders who can actually make a difference.
We're raising money for the new pediatric wing at Bellport General. It's a cause close to our family's heart. I spent weeks there as a teen after a bad accident, and the care I received saved my life. Now we're trying to give back, to make sure other families have access to that same level of care.
I should be happy. Proud. This is honest, good work.
Instead, I'm standing at the edge of the ballroom, nursing a glass of champagne I've barely touched, and trying not to check my phone every thirty seconds.
Kenneth didn't respond to my invitation to come as my plus one tonight.
It's been three days since I sent it. Three days of silence. His last day with the team was five days ago. An emotional goodbye where the players gave him a signed jersey and Gilliescried, actually cried, while hugging him. Kenneth handled it with grace, promising to come to every home game, to stay involved however he could.
But since then, we've barely spoken.
He's been busy wrapping up loose ends, meeting with lawyers about the official transfer of ownership, dealing with his mother who apparently had opinions about him "abandoning the family legacy." I've been consumed with gala preparations and a particularly complicated case that required me to personally escort three people to a safe house two states away.
I’d told Kenneth it was handled the night I came back to him, and for the most part, it was. There’s always a need to checkup on the survivors though. Plus, I still hadn’t caught up with Gideon after missing his call months ago.
After managing all of that on top of my legitimate businesses, which I’d been neglecting, and coordinating things for the team, I haven’t had the chance to pin him down. This is the longest we’ve been apart since that first kiss.
I fucking hate it.
We've texted. They’ve been brief exchanges that feel hollow compared to our usual banter. And when I finally worked up the courage to invite him to be my date tonight—my official, public date to the biggest social event of the season—he read the message and didn't respond.
I don't know what that means. Maybe he's not ready to be public. Maybe he's realized that being with me means dealing with all the complications of my life, including the secret work I do. Maybe he's decided it's too much.
Maybe I've already lost him.
"Royce Bellport, stop moping this instant."
