Page 66 of Tangled Up In You

His blood cooled. He’d put the Fitz mask on for the first time seven years ago and never once took it off. But with her staring up at him like that, it hit him that he wanted more than anything to feel safe being the real him.

“Edward,” he told her. “My name is Edward.”

She met his eyes, and, as hard as it was, he held the contact, letting her recalibrate with this new name on her tongue.

“Edward,” she said, and her fingers brushed through the back of his hair. “I love it.” Ren closed her eyes. “The origin is English. The name means ‘guardian, protector, wealthy.’” She snorted, opening her eyes again. “I guess that fits.”

It was funny how not funny it was. He was none of those things, but of course Ren wouldn’t know that. “You are an encyclopedia of random information.” He grinned down at her. “How about more champagne?”

Ren gave him a dorky thumbs-up. “Champagne is my favorite.”

“Stay here, and I’ll grab us a couple glasses.”

But when he returned, she was gone. Things were really in full swing now, loud and riotous. There was a fiddle player on the stage and people clapped along, faces rosy from drink, noses sunburned. The dance floor was almost completely obscured by moving bodies, and right at the center was Ren, dancing with a crowd of men and women who had brought her into their circle, arms around each other.

He found a chair on the side and sat down to watch. She was a blur of lavender and gold, arms over her head as she spun, blond strands of hair slipping from her intricate braid. A bottle of pure sunshine uncorked, spilling across the park. The song ended and the dance floor exploded in applause for the band, for each other, for the experience they were all sharing. People hugged Ren, touched her hair in wonder, took her hand, and brought her back to the floor for another song, and then another, until finally she escaped, tripping in a giddy tangle over to Edward, where she fell across his lap.

“There she is,” he said, catching her.

“I love dancing!”

“I can tell.” Gently, he brushed a few sweaty strands of hair from her eyes. Her tiara was crooked, and he smiled, straightening it. “If only you were more outgoing.”

“That was the nicest group of people. I’m so exhausted, though.”

“How many proposals did you get out there?”

“Only a few.” She fixed her focus on his lips. “Came over to hear your offer before I went back with an answer.”

He looked closely at her, at the tipsy glassiness of her gaze and the blissful elation in her smile. “Then I guess I can’t let you go back out there.”

“Is that right?”

“That’s right.”

He wanted to kiss her—to really kiss her like he had last night in the hot tub, with depth and heat and hunger—and knew that if he sat here much longer, he would. He would tip forward, fall into her, and maybe never be able to find his way out again. He’d started to lean in when the first firework shot across the sky, signaling the end of the festival. They both blinked away, looking upward to where a flash of color exploded overhead, followed by another, and another. They watched for a moment, Ren having gone still in his lap, before she looked over at him, a halo of golden sparks raining down behind her.

“I didn’t think this night could get any better,” she said.

“Proposals and fireworks. That all it takes?”

“I never did hear yours, by the way,” she said, running her finger along his jaw.

“How about this: We get out of here and go back upstairs, put on our pajamas, brush our teeth, and have a slumber party?”

“No one made an offer even a fraction that good,” she said, closing the distance to kiss him. “Take me upstairs, Edward.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

REN

Never in her life had Ren so ardently wished for the gift of telekinesis. With such a power, she would simply reach over with her mind and tug the hotel curtains closed. The blinding stretch of light between the drapes stabbed like a hot spear through her skull, even with her eyes closed.

Desperate for relief, she rolled over, colliding with a wall.

No, not a wall. Fitz’s bare chest. Ren groaned as rising consciousness brought with it a pounding headache. “Ow.”

A laugh vibrated behind Fitz’s breastbone. “She wakes.”