Royce has been trying to have fun now that we’ve left our room, but he’s failing miserably.

First we walked through this cool, modern water-squirting maze that was located by the entrance of the castle. The whole thing is wide open, and every time you went on a wrong turn, water would squirt out. Luckily, you could jump back before getting too wet.

After that he humored me, because I asked if I could walk around the entire castle because I wanted to look at it from all sides before it got dark. Halfway around, I realized I’d made the wrong request because from the look on his face I can tell that in his mind this activity has us too exposed.

Instead of admiring the amazing, castley-castle details of this place, he’s been staring into windows for people who might be looking out at us.

(For the record, there’s been no one.)

When not staring at windows, he’s been whipping his head back and forth like a psycho to check behind us in case someone was watching, waiting in shadows or approaching.

(Again, thankfully, there’s been absolutely no one.)

Finally, I gave up my idea of seeing the whole building and dragged Mr. Stress-freak-out across the grass, following the signs that led to the entrance of the maze. It’s not until we’ve been inside the massive, coolest-maze-ever for about fifteen minutes (and not until we still haven’t seen or heard anyone at all) that he seems to have finally relaxed.

He’s started to smile, and to look around—actually look at the maze, and on the last few twists and turns, I’ve even caught him uttering the words, “Cool.” And, “So very cool to be in here,” a few times.

We both pause next to one of the spots where we have to choose if we’re going right or going left. Instead of choosing, he reaches into the maze, pushing back branches and looking up into how it’s growing into the next section while saying, “That modern maze with the squirting water out there doesn’t count as a maze at all compared to this awesomeness.”

He pulls his head back out, grinning at me while gathering up the small leaves that have stuck to his hair and his vintage shirt. “This Yew, or heck it’s got to be so many Yew trees, right? It’s got to be as old as the castle. Super impressive, because it’s not easy to keep Yew trees alive for that long. Pretty sure there is no cooler tree.” He blinks, eyes going over my face. “You know?”

When I only blink at him in return because I don’t have anything to say, he tilts his head and asks, “Are you just being happy again and that’s why you’re all quiet all of a sudden? Or…you’re pissed at me because you disagree about old Yew trees? Maybe you’re having a maze allergy attack, or…what?”

“I’m happy, but…” I answer, laughing a little at his last guess, but I’m still avoiding his gaze while trying to shrug off the insecurity that comes over me at times like this.

Like he’s reading my mind, he stops in his tracks and flip turns around to face me, blocking my path. “Robin…remember the purpose of this weekend? We’re getting to know each other.” He leans down. “What are you thinking right now? Tell me. You make this face a lot and I want to know what it means.”

“What face,” I bluff, forcing myself to look up at him.

“It’s not really a face, it’s more…you won’t meet my eyes, your body goes all stiff, and suddenly it’s awkward between us. What’s that about? What do I do that brings that on, so I can simply stop doing it.”

I chew my bottom lip nervously. “If I answer this question, then I get to ask you an awkward personal question, too. Deal?”

He crosses his arms, one side of his smile going up. “Yes. Of course. Deal. But start with this exact moment. What just happened. Blow by blow, okay?”

“Okay.” I copy his crossed arms and step back a bit so I can look all the way up at him, adding in a defensive glower. “First, I felt like I’m not as smart as you are, because I don’t know what a Yew tree is. I’ve never even heard of that kind of tree. Second, I think I got slightly upset.” I motion at the tall leaf-lined walls surrounding us. “I thought all of this was some sort of special, only grown in the UK, awesome species of green-maze-bush. Bushes. Not trees. So, the face I was making meant I was feeling twice-uneducated and twice-unsophisticated, which is how I always end up feeling when I’m hanging around you. So, in order for you to stop me from getting to that face, you’d have to be someone else. That or I’d have to be someone smarter. See?”

“No. Robin…don’t say that. This was not the direction I wanted this conversation to go.” His voice sounds sad. “Hey…look at me.”

“Hey…” he says again when I shake my head, deliberately avoiding his gaze because now I can’t control the butterfly-swarm that the concern lining his voice has brought about. It’s swirling in my belly even faster because he’s reached forward to tug on some of my escaped curls like he’s trying to get me to look up and smile.

“There’s more,” I say, stepping back again, forcing my hair to slide out of his fingers. “I—think you’re intimidating and it’s probably good we have a fake marriage, because we’re not at all a true match, are we?”

His brows have shot up really high. “What do you mean by that?” His voice sounds even sadder.

I shrug, trying not to react to him this time, and stick to what I’m trying to say. “Compared to army-brat me, I’ll never be at your levels of sophistication or of worldliness or—whatever the proper word might be for someone who’s very classy like you are. And of course I don’t match your prettiness, because for a guy you are extraordinarily, freakishly pretty and handsome all at the same time—but I guess that helps with your success at a job, and all that. So…yeah.”

“That’s what you’ve been thinking when you make that face?” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry I asked.”

“I’m not. I just want you to know that I’m very aware of all of the differences between us, as I’m sure you are, too. I also know I’m the weakest link in the success of our ‘marriage’.” I finally meet his eyes again. “And, in the future I will try to be better at hiding that face I make when I’m feeling completely clueless, because like you said in that limo—right before we got married—if you can see it on my face, then the press can probably see it. Which means I need to work on hiding that better, so it’s good that you called me out about it, and please don’t just be awkward and throw out compliments to me to cover the part where I’m being really honest with you. Okay? Let’s just stay real.”

He clears his throat when clearly I’ve finally run out of words and a too-long silence has stretched between us.

“Shit. Robin.” His expression is now dark, troubled—maybe angry? “You’re completely off base. You’re the smart one that’s headed to college with a scholarship, not me.” He flings his arms wide, and looks up at the night sky. “I know nothing, and I’m not worldly or sophisticated so I don’t know where you got that insane idea. I’m a raging, anxiety driven—mess—every single day. And if we’re talking about pretty, then we do not match, yes it’s true. But that’s because you’re so far out of my league that I don’t deserve to stand next to you. And heck yes, I’ll throw out compliments to you, because that part is just true. You’re so beautiful.” His voice drops to scratchy-sexy-low again. “Beyond beautiful. Swear.”

I pull a face. “Dude. Do not patronize me right now. You asked me, I answered honestly. Now it’s my turn to ask you one.”

He rolls his eyes to the sky, then he paces around the closed off area of the maze like he’s got more to say to me, but instead he breathes out a long, frustrated sounding sigh and returns to stand in front of me. “Fine. You go. Ask away.”

I move some curls away from my eyes and fire up the flashlight because twilight is quickly turning to real live darkness. “If you aren’t going to university yet, then how do you know all of the UK words and facts. Like Macs and Wellies? While we were eating fish and chips you were going on about the gorgeous undercut cliffs of Scotland’s highland coastline, and—and—I point at the maze again. “And where did you hear about these Yew trees as well as—as know anything at all about maze horticulture. Were you secretly born in England or something? What’s the deal?”

His silver-bright eyes have gone wide. “That’s way more than one question.”

I stamp one foot, smiling at how his cheeks have flushed slightly. “Oh come on. Answer all of them.” I toss his words back at him. “For the sake of the weekend goals.”

His eyes start twinkling teasing-bright. “I love UK history, always have. And…over these past few years I wound up obsessed with Victorian and also Edwardian times for a long while. Mostly because…uh…well…” He looks at the sky, groaning a little then looks back at me, shaking his head. “Crap…it sounds really bad now that I’m about to say it all out loud.”

“Do it.” I mock glower at him.

He’s leveling his gaze into mine like he’s about to trust me with spy information then clears his throat. “Uh. So…as you know, I hide out in hotel suites, never going outside in the real world much.”

I nod as he continues, dropping his voice to a new sexy whisper that’s full of laughter. “So…it’s possible I’ve watched every episode of Sherlock, The Crown, Victoria, Downton Abbey, Outlander and Poldark.” He re-closes the space between us to take up the edge of one of my curls again, this time he winds the tip of it around his finger. “And…I mean I’ve watched them all more than once, okay?”

My eyes have gone wide. “All seasons, all episodes? More than once?”

“Huge true confession of a guy who wastes a lot of time.” I blink back, biting my lip so I don’t laugh out loud all while deciding my crush on this guy has just doubled. Tripled. Bad-boy Royce Devlin is a home-body TV series whore. BBC, series no less!

He’s nodding, face very serious. “If you want to know all of the UK words, just watch all of those shows. I only told you because I know my secret is safe with you.

“It is. Very. If this gets out… ” I can’t help it, that’s when I laugh out loud.

He laughs, too. Tension between us erased, we both turn and re-start up our walk through the maze, choosing to go right at the end this time.

Once we round a corner we realize we’ve reached another dead-end. Instead of turning back, Royce motions to a grey, weather worn, wide wood bench at the end of the dead end we’ve found. We head toward it, sitting side by side. “Can we sit awhile?”

“Yes.” I follow him to the bench, loving how the worn teak-wood looks like soft fabric under the flashlight’s beam. “Do you want to go to university?” I ask him.

“I am going,” he says, sitting, then crossing his legs in front of him while I sit, too, but tuck my legs crisscross under me, pulling the edge of the flowered dress skirt around my knees to stay warm. “I started some college classes online. It’s been very little by little and not at all how I’d imagined it.”

“Which is?” I ask, curious.

“I’d always had this idea the music career would slow and people would stop tracking my life. My mom and I thought I’d transfer into a regular university. I always dreamed I’d live in the dorms and somehow, blend in. I’d have a group of trouble-making bro-friends, and I’d go to all kinds of keg parties with them. You know…those kind of parties you regret going to with the kind of friends everyone says you’ll find in college. The ones you’ll keep forever, then meet up with at all of the reunions.” He looks over at me, smiling. “I wanted all of that so bad.”

“Me, too.” I sigh out, nodding while looking up at the now dark sky and a few summer stars twinkling overhead. “I can’t wait for my dorm. I’m so excited to meet some roommate I’ve never met yet. I want to decorate the place with cool posters and my own bits of furniture. I also hope for that same band of friends.”

“Yeah. Well you’ll get it. Maybe not this year, because you have to live with Sage inside our penthouse apartment while we end the marriage of the century,” He makes quote marks, referring to the latest magazine article published about us. “But after Sage is used to my grandmother’s place, and you two are settled into NYC, maybe next year you could swap to the dorms if…well…maybe…shit. It’s so complicated, isn’t it…” He trails off, and I’m thankful he’s stopped himself before talking about more things I just do not want to talk about.

Quickly, I slap on a smile that matches his and say, “Yeah. It is. And, you never know. Maybe.”

He nods. “I’m twenty-one now. I’d feel like an old man living in one of those dorms. Probably won’t happen for me at this point. Can you imagine my bodyguards all lined up in a dorm? I’d probably have to pay to house them in rooms next door to mine, or pay the university extra to blow out a wall so we could have interconnected spaces.” He shakes his head. “At this point, I’ll still probably transfer into a big university, but then work with counselors and whatever online programs they’ve got, so I can finish the degree remotely.”

“What degree will you get?”

“Do you have to ask? It’s pretty obvious.”

I quirk a brow? “Music?”

“Music Theory, actually.”

“Cool, wow, right.” I’m working really hard to mask my face extra hard so he doesn’t see that I have no freaking clue what a Music Theory degree is, or that it was even possible to obtain one.

“I’m so lucky.” He goes on. “I shouldn’t even long for all of the regular stuff I didn’t get to do in my life, right? I’ve got my bandmates to be those life-long friends.”

“Exactly,” I agree, keeping my voice light, because suddenly he doesn’t sound lucky at all. Once again, I can see how the Guarderobe guys have given up so much just so they can live this dream of making music.

Trying to make him feel better, I add, “I also think you don’t even need university. You already have a whole successful career, and that same career is what’s teaching you more about the world and life than anyone or anything you could get out of books.”

“Who knows if I will ever go.” His brow furrows. “All that I know about life is disconnected and random. Plus I love to learn. Sadly, my current compilation of facts and ideas was formulated while on TV show backlots with tutors, and while traveling. Your knowledge seems consistent and stronger because it’s from real teachers following organized curriculums. Real studies and real-life experiences. After you go to university you’re going to grow all of that even more. You’re already an amazing artist, but I predict, you’ll be such a cool force when you’re done with school.”

“I hope so. Thanks.” I feel my cheeks heating at his compliment. “But I would say your rockstar experiences are real. And consistent in their own way.” I frown, considering all that he’s said.

“Surreal, maybe. But I think my upbringing and education got me zero grit and even less substance, while you wound up with both of those things times-two.” Yawning, he stretches both arms wide then clasps his hands behind his head, stargazing along with me. “I’ve seen first-hand your amazing perseverance. How you successfully, against-all-odds landed a job, got a place to live, made your own budget, all so you could selflessly parent your little brother. You did that at the same time you were dealing with the grief that goes with your dad’s situation, and you did it all by yourself.”

“You dealt with your own grief. So much.” I sigh out, thinking of his mom.

“With my grandmother and uncle helping me through it.” He blinks. “And with my best friends carrying all of the work weight for me.” He shakes his head, glancing sideways at me. “I’m the inadequate one compared to you. I’ve never done anything by myself. Anything. Do you know the little train bathroom we used to change in earlier?”

I nod. “Yeah?”

“That was the first time I’ve been to a public restroom alone without a bodyguard in like ten years. And the only thing that kept me from panicking in there was that I knew you were in the hallway watching over me. How pathetic and unworldly is that?” He barks out a self-critical laugh. “You’ve only just graduated high school, yet you are so…damn…smart, clear eyed and possibly the bravest, coolest person I’ve ever met while…I can’t even pee alone.”

I shake my head again, looking away from how his eyes are glowing at me. “Again, thanks, and nice of you to say, but…I’m going to have to continue to disagree.”

“And, you’re so unfailingly polite. How do you to that?” He flings his arms wide. “You protect your little brother and all helpless babies like you did for Adam’s little girl Apple like it’s a natural state of being for you.”

“It is.” I blink. “I’m a soldier’s kid. That’s part of the code.”

“Ah, ha,” he cries out, startling me. “You just admitted you have a code! Boom! That’s why your internal and moral compass is huge where mine is broken—if nonexistent. And, damn-girl, with that code, you’re going to go so far past me in life. You’ll look back at this year and laugh that you ever thought you couldn’t be equal to a guy like me.”

His bullshit is now starting to annoy me. “False. You protect people way more than I do. Protectiveness is why you can’t ever relax. You’re protecting me, Adam, Hunter, Vere and your grandmother non-stop. You also let yourself be thrown under the bus because of Adam’s little baby.” A breeze picks up so I cross my arms over my stomach, wishing we’d have taken the Macintosh jackets off the hooks back in the mudroom, as I go on, “You also go on stage and sing songs you’ve created out of the words and feelings that come from inside your own heart and share them with strangers. I’d never do that and you’ve done it for years. That’s beyond brave. You married me after only one week—for the sole purpose of saving me and your friends. This marriage was not at all to save yourself, so you also are selfless.”

“Damn. Damn!” He leans forward, burying his head in his hands and groaning. “I’d call you out right now and say—boom again—then make you admit that we are equals based on all that you just said, but…since we’re being all honest and real right now, I’m going to hold steady, grow some balls and tell you that on that last point—on the part where I married you to be all selfless—I can’t agree.”

“Please. Yes it was. Explain what you mean. Right now.” I blink at him as he sits back up and meets my gaze. “Fine. Uh…we had other options we could have tried to save you and Sage, but each of those other plans meant you would have left us. More specifically, you would have left my life the very next day. And…I didn’t want you to go away so suddenly, so I convinced everyone that marrying you was our best option.” His eyes are burning into me.

“Seriously?” I whisper, feeling goose bumps go down my spine. “Why?”

“I—didn’t know you well after that week. But I did know, that had you left, I would have missed knowing you better. I was curious about you. I liked how you made me laugh, made me think, how you challenged me. Loved your outlook on life and how you could see past people’s masks and believe in them. How you encouraged everyone to just be—be better. First I wanted to know you better because I’d never met someone like you. Then, you were so refreshing and hilarious, I sort of couldn’t wait to see what you’d do next, and then after I found out about how you were a runaway I was so humbled and overwhelmed that I’d realized you were this very deep well of…cool, see?” He chuckles, shaking his head as he notices my cheeks have flamed. “I guess meeting you made me realize that I needed a new awesome friend and I wanted it to be the funny, strong, deep-seeing girl—you.”

“Aww.” I smile, shaking my head, overwhelmed at what he’s said. “And…wow…but like, Royce, you didn’t have to marry me. I would have been your friend anyhow.”

He grins. “How could I be sure of that? You’d have been taken back to the military base in North Carolina. And you know how my life is like this zig-zagging tornado that you may have never crossed paths with again.” He shrugs. “Marrying you pretty much guaranteed my personal, very selfish goal, all while getting everyone else their goals, too.” He turns even more towards me and his eyes start probing mine—in this way that I do to him to try to read his feelings. “See, Robin? I’m totally, shamelessly, utterly selfish. It was all for me. We aren’t equals. You’re better. I think you win.”

“Was it a competition?” My brows have shot up so high I swear they’re about to pop off my head.

He laughs. “I don’t know. It sure felt like it there for a minute.”

I shake my head and finally laugh at the cryptic, odd expressions crossing his face, because—he’s got to be kidding, right? Only, when his gaze remains so intent on mine that it’s making me feel all fluttery and uncomfortable and it’s made the air between us nearly sizzle because he’s staring at my lips and I can’t stop staring at his.

“Well…uh,” I shake my head, trying to clear it by forcing myself to stand up and walk a little way away from the bench. “Have you heard the expression be careful what you wish for?” I flash him my own cryptic look as I point down the maze pathway, motioning that I’m ready keep exploring the maze, when in fact all I want to do for the next, I don’t know—the next forever—is stay hidden in this maze with him while he stares at my lips!

I’m pretty far in front of him now and I’ve reached a point in the maze where I think he can’t see what I’m doing exactly, I place one hand over my thrumming-skipping heart—willing it to slow.

“Why be careful what I wish for?” He asks, finally catching up to me and surprising me because he’s grabbed my hand up into his.

“Well,” I shrug, walking side by side with him and loving how he always twines his fingers into mine. “Once the novelty of me nearly dry-heaving fancy foods while wearing my clothes backwards wears off, you’ll realize you’ve made the biggest mistake of your life wishing to know me better.”

“Never. And never try to change any of that, because it would be a tragedy if you somehow got that stuff right.”

I unclasp my hand from his and punch him in the shoulder.

He laughs low-and long when he catches my glare. “Seriously. I’m counting down the minutes until your next social fail. I really love that about you.”

“Shut. Up.” I punch him again. “If I can’t get things right, I’ll eventually do something so terrible and damaging in public that you won’t even be allowed to call me once I move out.” I bump him hard with my shoulder, knocking him off balance a little as he cracks up again.

“Again. Never. But I’m pretty certain when you get to dump me, you’ll be the one who never comes to visit me and this mad-life—because that’s what I’d do. If I could get out, I think I’d never look back.”

“Please. Don’t say that. I’ll always look back…and…don’t say that because what about the music and the band. You’d look back.”

“Maybe. But you shouldn’t.”

I shrug, hating the course this conversation has taken. Hating more that I don’t have the words to fix it or solve any of it—solve us. So, I start running ahead instead. Right here and right now, full speed, and as fast as I can go.

“Wait. Robin! Don’t leave me, you’ll get lost.” He sounds worried.

“No I won’t,” I shout, letting my legs lengthen and stretch under me as I pull the first full breath of cold night air into my lungs that I’ve taken in a long time. “This feels good. Come on. We’re going to run until we find the center.”

“Okay…but. You’re the only one who’s got a flashlight. Wait up, or I’ll be the lost one,” he calls out again, sounding even more worried—sounding so darn adorable.

I side step into the next area of the maze and wait, panting and grinning while I shine the light back behind me to show him the way. In my very best English accent, I shout out, “Do you know nothing, Sir? It’s called a torch and…”

He rounds the corner, but he’s not expecting me to be right there. He’s been running lightning-speed so we almost collide.

Skidding to a halt, he flings his arms forward and grabs my shoulders, stopping himself from slamming into me. His worried expression morphs into sheer belly laughter. “And what?” he asks, breathless and grinning so wide, with his bright eyes and the planes of his face so highlighted under the rising moonlight, that I’m humbled by how beautifully this guy is made. Inside and out…

“And…catch me if you can!” I squirm out of his grasp, and we both run together into the darkness—both of us—still laughing.