Page 139 of Vicious Desire (Fallen Royals 4)
I only dare to say this because we successfully managed a flight to Chicago without any arguments, and we even shared a big taxi to Riley’s and my brand-new apartment.
We flew out here a month ago and scoped out about eighteen different apartments, finally settling on one that was appealing, in a safe neighborhood, and close to campus. Oh, and affordable for my trust fund.
I started getting payouts from it on my eighteenth birthday, unbeknownst to me. Once I graduate with a bachelor’s degree, I’ll receive the rest of it.
Way to keep me honest, Mom and Dad.
Riley bounces around our new space with all the energy of a toddler on a sugar high. The furniture movers just left. My mom and Riley’s had a lot of opinions about where to put everything. Both our parents seem tiredly happy with what we’re renting and how it’s set up.
“And look! You can see the river from here!” Riley drags her mom over to the huge windows. “I want to put a plant stand here. Get some ivy, maybe…”
Dad chuckles. “You’re going to let her decorate?”
“I’ll have some say, I’m sure.” Probably in the bedroom.
“What do we think about getting some lunch?” Riley’s dad asks. He’s opening drawers in the kitchen, scoping out the fridge.
If he didn’t ask, I think my own was a few seconds away from voicing it himself.
“Great idea,” Mom says. “I think I saw a little bistro down the street.”
They file out.
“Can you bring stuff back for us?” I ask Mom, sticking my head into the hallway.
She smiles knowingly, and I inwardly cringe.
Riley’s about to sail past me, her purse slung over her shoulder, when I grab her wrist. She swings back into me.
I cup her face.
She peers up at me, barely suppressing her excitement. After so long, we’re here. Together.
Happy.
Her mother has been doing well, and her dad, last I knew, had transferred back to the Hillshire county office. He was done working in Manhattan.
“I love you,” I say.
I love telling her, because a spark comes into her eyes every time. Like a tiny firework bursting just under her skin.
“And you know what?”
“What?” she parrots, breathless.
“Food can wait. We need to christen this place.”
“Ah,” she murmurs. “I’m down for that.”
An hour later, I drag her up from the couch and try to smooth her hair. It’s useless—they’re going to know right away. Plus, the whole place smells like sex.
“Oh god,” Riley murmurs. “We should’ve got air freshener or something. Dad’s going to punch you again.”
I roll my eyes. “We’re living together. They know what we’re doing.”
Her face turns a deep red, and she hurries into the kitchen. There are boxes of glassware and utensils we haven’t unpacked yet, and she rips into one of the boxes. Water straight from the sink, she tips back the glass and drains it in a matter of seconds.
“Do you think we damaged each other irreparably?” she asks me. She leans against the counter and crosses her arms.