Page 44 of Edge of Stars

Happy—but not relaxed.

“Ermmm…nothing,” I blurt as quickly as I can, with as much surety as I can fake. It’s dirty pool, and I know it, but it’s cleaner than what this day has become for him. The last thing he needs, after everything that’s happened, is a bride who’s drenching him in tears because of weird communication issues with his in-laws. “And…nobody,” I say just as fast. “I’m babbling. It’s silly. Honestly. I’m burning off the last of the adrenaline.”

His brow furrows. His head tilts over. Damn it; he’s not buying it.

Time for more nefarious moves—easy to come by, as soon as I reach up and comb my fingers through the long strands that bunch between his ear and shoulder.

If I needed any support for my decision about the ruse, Maximus’s blissful groan gives that right up. Though his rough baritone evokes other times when I make him feel good, there’s discernible exhaustion at its edges now too. The man is as worn as me, if not more. Just as afraid about the fates of his loved ones, back at the church. Just as uneasy about where we go from here, on the bigger scale of things. Living at Rerek’s place was never going to be permanent, but perusing the available real estate listings in the suburbs won’t be our nighttime popcorn activity anymore.

I know it—and one look at my husband’s terse, tired profile is sign enough that he does too.

And that really settles it.

I’m not going to be one more weight on his psyche. I’m his wife now, the one who should be helping and supporting him. His ally and partner, not the weeping albatross around his neck. We’re facing entirely too much right now. He needs the woman he first fell in love with. The fire we sparked in each other. The words we gave to each other. The courage in which we stood together.

The hope we found in everything.

The bright horizon we can still find now.

“Hey. What are the chances this place has an actual bedroom?”

The finishing dance of my eyebrows earns a roguish grin from my gorgeous husband. And then, after a sweep of his fingertips across my forehead, “We won’t know if we don’t look.”

“Ohhh, excellent pro tip, Professor.” It gets my coquettish inflection, encouraged even more by his brief but bold laugh.

This is what I want to be here for. To ease his loads and lighten his heart, no matter what kind of darkness threatens to overrun it—or us. To let him know that he’s not alone. He’s no longer the odd one, in either his humanity or his divinity. By showing him all that, I’m walking for the light, as well.

But I keep the poetic symbolism to myself, especially as we ascend some stairs and start opening doors on the next level. Being the practical protector is also another favorite headspace for my husband, and I’m happy to let him indulge it as we discover a painting studio, a well-stocked workout room, and an expansive library.

“Well, hurray for happy surprises,” Maximus murmurs, earning my fervent nod of commiseration. “This is definitely going to be helpful.”

I pause and nail him with a new stare. “For…what?”

“For the times when we’re stabbing our own palms to keep off our phones.”

I nod again, bizarrely mellow—and unsurprised—about the revelation. At least I now know what was so engrossing between him and Poseidon out on the dock. The moratorium makes sense. If we’re here because the sea king can effectively hide us, why thwart the cause—or in clearer terms, why help Hecate, Hades, Zeus, or any of their recon teams find us—by dropping a geo-pin on ourselves?

It’s not going to be easy—I concede that much right now, knowing that we’ll be rattling at our cage for answers long before Poseidon and Proteus make it back—but just for right now, just for this little moment, it actually feels like a breath of freedom. A respite we’ve been given to focus on the most important element of this day. Well…what should have been.

Each other.

“Hey. Come on.” I slip my hand into his. “Let’s save the literary therapy for later. What’s on the third floor?”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

MAXIMUS

It’s what we’re looking for—only better.

The third floor, being the last level with a hard roof overhead, is the home of the villa’s master bedroom.

As in, the whole third floor.

“Okay, now the surprise party can start,” Kara quips, taking in the cream and gold theme that’s elegantly appointed to everything. I do mean everything, including the spacious vanity and bathroom area with its jet-equipped tub, to the sunken seating areas with floor-inset views of the lagoon’s glimmering surface, to the gigantic wave-shaped bed that’s quickly defying every description in my flabbergasted mind.

Finally, I have it.

Bacchanalian.