Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 117920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 590(@200wpm)___ 472(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 590(@200wpm)___ 472(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
All is well.
Until the night is over, and Henrik has taken us back to the palace.
It’s much later than I thought it would be, nearly 1 a.m., when we stumble up the stairs to our rooms. Amelie is in one of the guest suites which is near Aksel’s room and I figure that there’s no way he wants to see me tonight anyway. He’s either waiting up for me, seething, or he fell asleep.
I say goodnight to her and go to my own room.
I remove my clothes, step into a nightshirt and head to the bathroom, only then noticing a note on my desk.
I’m in your bathroom.
What the fuck?
The note has been torn from my day planner, which I don’t appreciate, and scribbled with a Sharpie. Only I don’t know if it’s Aksel or not since I don’t ever recall seeing his handwriting.
“Aksel?” I call out quietly.
I head to the bathroom door—which is closed when I know I left it open—and slowly open it, reaching in to flick on the lights.
Aksel is standing right by the door and I almost scream, jumping up and down in fright.
“I left you a note,” he whispers harshly.
“I know!” I cry out as softly as I can, my heart racing. “That didn’t make this any less scary! Why are you in my bathroom?”
“I needed to see you.”
“In my bathroom?”
“In your room.”
“So wait in the room.”
“I didn’t know if you were coming home alone.”
I nearly bite my tongue. “Seriously? You really thought I was going out to pick up guys?”
“Well why did you go out?” He comes out of the bathroom and I notice how wild his eyes are, the firm clench of his jaw. He’s mad. For no reason.
“I went out because I’ve been living in this city for half a year and I’ve never gone to a bar. That’s why.”
He mumbles something in Danish at that and I don’t care to know what it is. “Well, you could have told me that.”
“I didn’t tell you because it doesn’t really matter in the long run. I did it because Amelie came here, and she wanted to. And I haven’t had a girl’s night in a long time.” I pause. “Still doesn’t explain why you were hiding in my bathroom.”
“It’s hardly called hiding when you leave a note.”
“Whatever.”
“Don’t whatever me. Never whatever me.”
“Oh, sorry, whatever, Your Majesty.” I add under my breath, “Fucking opposite of majestic right now.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
He grabs my arm. “It’s not nothing,” he says and beyond his frown and the sharp intensity of his eyes, I see the fear. “And nothing is whatever between us, do you understand? That’s not how we talk, that’s not how we work. We don’t just roll our eyes and ignore shit. We deal with shit. And that’s why I’m in your fucking bedroom right now because I couldn’t go to sleep with this weight in my heart.”
Oh. Damn.
I didn’t know it was like that.
His words almost have a calming effect on me. “Well what are you so worried about?” I manage to say.
“You,” he whispers, closing the gap between us and cradling my face in his hands. “I worry about you. I worry about losing you.”
“Why would you think that? I’m all yours, Aksel.”
“How do I know? How do I know you’re not after something else?”
I think anyone else might be insulted, but I know what Helena did to him, I know how distrustful of intentions he can be. I place my hands on top of his hands and gaze up at him with all the truth that I can muster, hoping he can read in my eyes before he hears it from my lips.
Falling for Aksel was a step off into the unknown, a leap off the highest cliff, with clouds obscuring the view below. You don’t know what lies below you, you don’t know how far you’ll fall or if you’ll even land at all. You don’t know anything because no one knows anything.
And it doesn’t even matter. Life is nothing without risk.
I closed my eyes, took that leap, and fell in love.
I’m still falling.
“Jeg elsker dig,” I tell him, willing my voice not to shake. “I love you.”
I said it in English after I said it in Danish, just in case he didn’t understand me and yet he’s still staring at me like I spoke a foreign language. His brows come together, almost in pain, his mouth dropping open slightly.
His hands press harder onto my face and I start biting my lip, unsure what’s going to happen next. That’s the problem with the leap when you can’t see the bottom. You don’t know where you’re going to end up.
Or if someone will catch you in the end.
I open my mouth, unsure of what else to say, maybe to explain myself.
But his lips press flush with mine and there’s a breathless gasp.