Chapter 39
Aeron
Kelly sat across from me, doing her best impression of intimidating me. She'd picked the wrong opponent.
“My best friend said I have to approve you,” she said, with the confidence of someone holding all the cards. “So, I’m your final boss.”
“Is that her rule or yours?” She’d probably bullied Astrid into submission.
Kelly opened her mouth, a scowl halfway formed, but I cut her off. “Get to the point.”
She crossed her arms, her expression sharpening protectively. “You’re not allowed to scold her. Like ever.”
“I’d never let it go that far.” The thought had never even crossed my mind.
“No cheating,” she warned. “You're not even allowed to accidentally dream about another girl.”
I'd been daydreaming about Astrid for five years—by now, she'd taken up every inch of space in my head. “There’s no room for anyone else.” I made sure my voice left no space for doubt.
“If you ever hurt her, I’ll burn your Ashbourne house down.”
I wasn’t even angered by her threat. If anything, I admired how fiercely protective she was over Astrid. “If it ever comes to that, I’ll hand you the match myself.”
She stared, eyes widening. “You're serious, aren't you?”
“With Astrid, I’m always serious,” I said.
Kelly opened her mouth, clearly ready for another round, but I wasn’t about to humor her.
“Interrogation’s over. Now, if you’ll excuse me, there’s someone I’d much rather be talking to.
” It had been an hour—already an hour too long.
I opened the bedroom door, and Astrid jumped back, eyes wide, guilt written all over her face.
I raised an eyebrow, fighting back a smile. “Eavsdropping, sweetheart?”
“I… didn’t hear anything.” Her cheeks flushed. “Your voices were too low.”
“Thank God you missed that,” Kelly chimed in from behind me. “He refused to promise he wouldn’t nag you, micromanage your life, or otherwise drive you completely insane.”
I shot her a glare, and she flashed back a toothpaste-commercial ad grin, but pure evil. Who forgot to install a mute button on this motormouth?
Astrid laughed, pressing closer into my side, her fingers slipping between mine. “I wouldn’t buy that story, even in an alternate universe.”
My heart did something ridiculous at her words.
It wasn’t a confession, not even close, but it felt deeper, louder, and far more real.
Right then, I knew it didn't matter how many universes existed—given a million chances in a million different worlds, I'd always choose the one where she believed in me, where she looked at me exactly like this.
Every damn time.