34. Nina
34
NINA
After Maia and I spend the evening eating ice cream and bonding over our agitation with Dad, we team up with Vanessa for a few days to gather data for our meeting with the Court.
My cousin insists that Helen from human resources will back my idea instantly and that her department is loyal to her. On the understanding that rich people don’t like their money being shrunk, we prepare statistics to emphasize the danger and legitimacy of Lo Revínastí and the probability of what the future of the institution looks like.
I haven’t spoken to Dad since our fight, and I don’t plan to. Not to mention that he thinks my childhood trauma is based on a misunderstanding. I hoped that argument was our moment of truth. With all emotions on the table, we’d have a chance to heal. But I’ve never felt so distant from him.
And because I’m living in the palace until determining the next step, Wesley is largely off-duty. I’m glad he has this time to himself, but it’s been days since I saw him and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss him. He might not be the life of the party, but he’s my favorite part of each day.
One afternoon, Vanessa strides into my much-too-big bedroom with news. “My mom said the Higher Court wants to have the meeting in Corsos to be safe.”
“Where is that?” Maia asks.
“A city at the very bottom of the country. About an hour and a half by plane.”
Dread prickles my stomach. “How long driving?”
“Oh, uh… six hours, maybe.”
I look at my sister. “Are you up for a road trip?”
“Hell no.”
“What?” I squawk.
Maia reclines across my bed, propping on a single elbow. “That three-hour ride back from Antina knocked me out, so I will be flying and you can have a six-hour drive alone with the bodyguard you’re pretending you don’t want to take to pound town.”
While Maia tends to be unrefined, she has a good point. She also gave me the idea to request a classic convertible for the road trip, which was granted, and now I’m sitting in the passenger seat as an unbelievably sexy man drives us through the winding roads of the countryside. Bless my sister and her ingenious mind.
Everything that happened in Antina was petty drama. It’s not too awkward between Wesley and me, but there’s a lingering curiosity each time we look at each other. Maybe that’s in my head.
I watch as he focuses on the road, windows down and wind ruffling his hair, his stubble outlining his strong jaw.
I could look at him forever.
The words flash across my mind before I can truly register it. Not long ago, I told myself our future is blank—and now it’s not. I could look at him forever. Fear spikes my heart at this sudden realization, but it soon turns into warmth.
“What?” he says, amused.
Shit . I was staring a bit. And I feel myself smiling.
The level of trust I have with him surpasses anyone in my life. I over-explain each thought for fear of being misunderstood. With him, I’m calm. The itch to elaborate on each thought is gone . I can sit with him in complete peace, knowing that I’m seen and understood. Even if he won’t kiss me.
“Nothing,” I quip.
Maybe he feels something for me, too, and is too afraid to act on it. Does it matter? The Higher Court might not take me seriously if they found out. Wesley could lose his job.
Maia has the paperwork for the meeting tomorrow and I regret giving it to her. We’re nearly two hours into the trip and I could use this time to review the material. But I take a deep breath and watch the mountains slowly pass by, lighting up when I spot goats or horses. I almost ask Wesley to put the top down until I remember the amount of time I spent styling my hair. Despite my efforts to relax, I keep circling back to the knowledge that we’re driving toward a life-changing meeting.
I turn to Wesley. “Do you think the Court will hate my plan?”
“What plan?”
“I didn’t tell you?” I ask, sitting up straighter. With a sigh, I dive into all the details from memory. Saying it aloud helps me become more confident, and I genuinely want his input.
But when I’m done explaining the proposal, he hesitates, shrugs, and says, “I don’t know.”
I smack his arm, surprising him more than hurting him.
“ Ay —what was that for?”
“After all that, you tell me I don’t know ?” I wail. “Do better.”
“It is a strong plan.” He lets his Maldanian accent shine when he sharpens the t . I’d be annoyed with that answer if he didn’t sound so damn cute.
“But is it good enough?”
“I—” Wesley struggles to find the words. “I’m not part of politics. I’ve never contributed to the country in that way.”
A cryptic answer, as always. I poke his arm. “Do you want a queen?”
“What I want doesn’t matter.”
“It does to me,” I say firmly. “Answer the question: what would you think if I became the queen?”
The car slows as we approach the toll booth line. He shakes his head. “I can’t answer that.”
“You can.”
“I can’t.”
“You can.”
“I can’t.”
“You can.” When he doesn’t reply, I turn to my next method by leaning closer. “Please?”
He sees right through my attempt, his shoulders falling. “Don’t?—”
I tilt my head and bat my eyes. “Pretty please?”
“Don’t do this to me.” He looks at me, his expression almost desperate, which oddly arouses me.
“ Pleeeeeease answer the question, Wesley.”
He doesn’t break eye contact as he shifts the gear between us. “You are killing me, woman.”
The car pulls up to the booth and I smirk. “Isn’t that what I’m for?”
After he pays the toll, I don’t press the subject any further. There’s still so little I truly know about him. He was in the army and alludes to supposedly frightening past mistakes. The drive continues in silence, and I keep wondering what his life was like before we met. I’m no doctor, but I can tell the burn scar on his hand isn’t old. Most of his visible scars are on his wrists and hands. The one on his inner arm can be hidden easily with a sleeve.
Okay, maybe I look at him too much.
I flinch back to reality when Wesley speaks. “Were you truly upset… when I was speaking to that woman in the bakery?”
My cheeks warm. Damn. I thought we moved past this. I swallow the nerves lodging in my throat. “I… I asked you to join us—when we were on the boat and you said no. But you found some blonde baker more interesting.” I squeeze my eyes shut, shaking my head at how pathetic I sound. “It’s stupid, all right? Just ignore it. I did. It was right after the attack and I was… I don’t know.”
He doesn’t answer at first, and I want to disappear more with each second he lets pass.
“I didn’t want to embarrass you,” he admits, and I stare at him, shocked. “I have made an ass of myself many times this summer because I don’t remember the uh—how to socialize. And I can practice with strangers. Like blonde bakers I could not care less about.”
Well, that makes me feel shitty. I can’t imagine what he’s gone through where he forgot how to talk to people.
“Why didn’t you just tell me that?”
Wesley opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. He focuses on the highway through a small mountain. I’ve known him long enough to decipher his body language. Right now, I can tell he’s wrestling with himself. If he has trouble talking to others, it’s probably a much harder obstacle to open up.
“You helped me through the worst night of my life,” I remind him.
The furrow in his brow dissipates. “That was my job,” he deadpans, and I notice the automatic nature of his reply. He’s convincing himself, not me.
“It wasn’t your job to hold me as I cried or wash my hair. It wasn’t your job to play UNO with me at three o’clock in the morning. It’s okay for?—”
POP!
The car trembles from what feels like an explosion. I grapple for the door handle as my stomach lurches. “What is that? What happened?”
Wesley curses in Maldanian as he switches gears. “The tire probably blew out.”
But the car keeps making weird noises while he hits the gas, aiming for the emergency shoulder up ahead. This is the one thing I hate about Europe: there aren’t enough shoulders on the roads. If this happened three miles back, we would be screwed.
The car makes it just into safety before smoke starts to escape from under the hood of the car.
“I don’t think the tire blew out,” I say.