by Piper Rayne
I push away my plate. “Really? Because it seems to me you want to erase us from your shiny new life.”
He turns away from the burner and sits in the chair next to me. “Why would you think that?”
I pretend not to see the hurt in his eyes. “Look around, Dad, there’s no sign of our lives here anymore.”
He sighs. What possible response could he have? “You mean there’s no sign of your mother. Because if you look around, you’ll see pictures of your graduation, your baby picture, when you learned to ride your bike.”
“And not one of Mom? Where’s the one where she’s holding me right after I was born?” It’s in the storage locker of my apartment, that’s where it is.
“You might not understand this, but I can’t move on with Fae while living in the past. It isn’t fair to her to live here with all your mom’s things. To wake up and stare at her picture. It’s the reason we’re selling the house.”
“Fae made you do it?” Even I admit I sound like a pissed off teenager.
“No. I made the decision because I have to move on with my life. It doesn’t mean I love your mom any less. I think of her every day, but she’s not coming back. It’s been eighteen years, sweetie.” His hand covers mine. “I know right after your mother died, the depression I was in was hard for you. I wish I could go back and fight harder to have pulled myself out of it sooner. But I can’t. I also know you resent me for it, and you should. But now you’re grown and have your own life in Cliffton Heights. I’ve finally gotten myself healthy. We both need to move on.”
I attempt to blink away the tears that keep building. “Why now? Why are you able to move on?”
He takes a moment to think about it. My dad, always the debater in his head. “I don’t have an answer. One morning I woke up and reality hit. How mad your mom would be that I just gave up. She was such a fighter, you know. And I was being a coward, too afraid to put myself out there. Afraid that I’ll get hurt again. But that’s life, sweetie. Sometimes it hurts.” His extra-long stare says he knows more about why I’m here than I do. “I’m sorry. I should have fought harder for our life after your mom died. It’s a regret I feel every day.”
“Really?”
“Yes. What you must have thought. You practically lost both of us.”
I had no idea he felt that way or even realized what a toll it took on me. Fresh tears fall down my cheeks and he pulls me into his arms, hugging me as I sob into his chest. “I think I screwed up, Dad.”
“Why are you home?” he whispers.
I shrug.
“Come on. Let me help you out on this one.”
The smoke alarm goes off and we have no choice but to let go of one another. I grab the broom as my dad turns off the burner, taking the frying pan of eggs and putting it in the sink. He opens a window and a cold breeze floats in.
After we get the smoke mostly cleared out, we sit down at the table.
“At least we have bacon,” he says, shaking his head at the brick pancakes. “Your mom would kick my ass if she saw these sad excuses for pancakes.”
I laugh as we hold up pieces of bacon to knock together before we each take a bite. He’s right, I need to try harder. To put aside the past and look to the future.
He listens as I tell him everything that happened with Adrian and my experience in Sandsal. He knew about the picture of Mom because it turns out Fae likes to stalk blog sites too. Great. She hid it from my dad until the picture came out yesterday and felt I needed a little family to stick up for my mother.
“So she’s been commenting on the mean posts about you. She might be just as hated as you are in Sandsal.” My dad laughs, and a warmness I never wanted to feel for Fae hits my heart.
“Thanks,” I say, meaning a whole lot more than just him feeding me.
My dad smiles. His large hand, which bears more wrinkles than I remember, clamps down on my forearm. “It’s been too long. Maybe I’ll get the pancakes down one day.”
“Nah.” I pick up one and bite it. “I kind of like that you make dry ones.”
He picks up one and bites it after me. “Me too.”
Silence falls between us as though we’re both thinking of my mom. The woman who left us with huge holes in our hearts that are just now starting to mend.
“So what are you going to do?” he asks.
I shrug.
“You’re not a runner. That’s never been you.”
I stare into my coffee cup. “All I do is run. I purposely pick men who have a slim chance of ever being long term.”
He leans back. “You know things happen in people’s lives that shape and form them into the adults they become. But sometimes you gotta put yourself out there. You’re a Sanders. You come from a military family. We fight for what we believe in. I think after your mom died, we both lost that fight. We succumbed to the grief, and because she died fighting for our country, I think we started to shy away from fighting for what we want. You’ve fought for everything you’ve gotten in this life. Now you need to be a fighter when it comes to your heart.”
He stops talking. When I don’t say anything, he picks back up. “It’s still in you. Dig it up, and if you love this guy, fight for him. Don’t wait for him to show up on some white horse and save you like the prince he is. Show him you’re a warrior and a fighter and that he doesn’t need to protect you from his people. That you’ll stand by his side with your shoulders squared and your head held high. I guarantee it’s why he fell in love with you in the first place.”
I consider my dad’s words as he stands and disappears from the room. Maybe he’s giving me time to figure out what I should do.
But he returns a few minutes later and hands me a letter. “I should’ve given this to you a long time ago, but by the time you were old enough, I didn’t want it to set you back. I was wrong to hang on to it. Just think of it as another fuck-up on my part.” He squeezes my shoulder and leaves the room again.
The letter is worn as though it’s been read a million times, the folds creased to the point that the paper will soon rip. I suck in a breath when I recognize my mom’s handwriting.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Sierra
* * *
I smooth out the letter and read.
* * *
Greg,
* * *
I don’t have to explain this letter. You’ve probably already written your own to me while you were deployed. We’ve talked endless nights about what we want to happen should something happen to one of us over here. I’m going to keep this brief because you and I are lucky enough to have discussed so much face-to-face. We both know the dangers here, whereas husbands and wives who aren’t both enlisted don’t know how high the possibility of something happening really is.
I know we’ve been in a disagreement about this, but should the unthinkable happen to me, I want you to find a wife for you and a mother for Sierra. She needs a woman in her life to guide her through womanhood. She doesn’t have to call her Mom or anything crazy like that though. ;)
In all seriousness, honey, nothing will bring me back, so you need to move on with your life. Sierra is too young not to have a mother to nurture her. I know you’ll do a great job. You’re a wonderful father, the way you always tell her she can be whatever she wants in this world as long as she’s not afraid to work hard. If you won’t do it for yourself, do it for Sierra and me.
And one more thing, I know you love the military, but please don’t reenlist should something happen to me. As much as I want you to be where I am, Sierra is the priority and the chances are too great if you come back over here she’ll end up as an orphan. We both know we don’t want to give our parents the chance to screw her up. ;)
Here’s hoping you never see this letter, but I’m not naive enough to think you won’t. I love you so much, Greg. You have given me a life most women dream of. I’m the luckiest wife in this world to be able to call you my husband. Keep our little girl safe. Kiss her, hug her, joke with her,
tell her she’s beautiful every day. Even when she goes through those awkward puberty years. :) And clean your gun when that first boy shows to pick her up. I would have done the same thing.
* * *
Love you always and I’ll be waiting for you (I hope I’m waiting a long time),
* * *
Abby
* * *
I refold the letter and put it back inside the envelope.
Leaving the kitchen, I find my dad in the family room, his chin in his palm as he stares at nothing.
When he hears me, he turns and stands. A tear slips from his eye. “I couldn’t do it. I’m sorry.”
I have no idea who went to who first, but we hug and cry and my dad apologizes over and over again for never living out my mother’s wishes. I mumble that it’s okay. And it is. He was doing the best he could. All things considered, he didn’t screw me up too much. Everyone has their issues.
He’s right though—I need to fight. Those newspapers have no idea who my mom is, how wonderful she was, or what she stood for. And they definitely underestimated me.
“I love him,” I say.
My dad draws back, his hands on my forearms. He smiles with true happiness. “Then let’s get you on a plane.”
I nod, sniffle, and dry the tears with my hands.
“I’ll grab my keys and phone.” He heads to the kitchen.
I run upstairs, zip up my suitcase, and pull it down the stairs.
“Ready?” he asks.
I nod. “Ready.”
I ignore the anxiety racing through my veins. I can do this. Adrian is worth it.
My dad opens the door and freezes.
I bump into his back. “Dad?”
“Sweetie, I’m not sure you need to go to the airport.” He backs up.
Adrian stands on the other side of the screen door. Blanca and Rian stand at the end of the sidewalk. Dylan, Seth, and Ethan jogging down the sidewalk from a cab parked along the curb.
My dad snaps out of his surprise faster than me and he opens the screen door. “Please come in.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Greg. No sir.” My dad pats Adrian’s back and steps out. “Blanca Mancini, how are you?” He descends the steps, giving us space.
Adrian shuts the door, backing me into the room. My suitcase falls on its side from the wheels not rolling on the carpet. Our eyes stay locked.
“You ran,” he says.
“I was running back.”
The tips of his lips shift up for a moment but then return to straight lines. “I handled it all wrong, I’m sorry. But things are fine now. My parents—”
I place my finger on his lips. “I’ll deal. I’m fine. I can handle all of it. The press, your parents, Felicia, the country.”
“You will?”
I nod.
“Why?”
“Why are you here?” I change the subject.
“I asked you first,” he says, a smirk playing on his lips.
“I was going to sweep you off your feet,” I say.
He chuckles. “Role reversal. Too bad I beat you to it.”
I tilt my head. “How do you figure?”
“I’m standing in your family’s home to win you back.”
“I’m no princess,” I say. “I don’t need saving.”
His head falls back and his hands land on my hips. “You think I don’t know that? I thought I was clear from day one. I was never looking for a princess.”
He bends to kiss me, but I put my hand over his mouth. “Adrian, I’m not going to stand quietly by your side. I can’t allow them to talk about my family and me like they have been.”
“Why do you think I picked Wonder Woman for you? She’s not a princess, but she does wear a tiara.”
I wrap my arms around his neck, throwing myself at him, and he catches me.
“I love you, Sierra,” he whispers in my ear.
I lean back so I can see him. “I love you. Cheesy hands and all.”
Epilogue
Three months later…
Sierra
* * *
I sit in my chair with four chairs to my left. There are three cameras on set, all from different angles. Although it’s been three months since everything went down in Sandsal, my nerves still get the better of me when I know I’ll be seeing Adrian’s family.
“Ready?” Jack asks in my ear.
I nod, straightening my notecards.
The cameraman counts me down, and I face camera two.
“Good evening, Cliffton Heights. We have a few special guests with us tonight. As some of you might be aware, the country of Sandsal just passed a new law permitting women to lead their monarchy. There was talk of removing the requirement for the ruler to be married, but that idea was put on hold for the time being. I’m going to be speaking with King David Marx and Queen Lucy Marx about what they’re doing to bring their monarchy into this century.”
I stand as they come and join me on set. They’ve both apologized to me, and I have forgiven them, though I won’t be planning any family vacations with them just yet.
After I bow to both of them, the king kisses my cheek.
“Good to see you both. Please have a seat.”
They do, and I still envy the ease with which Adrian’s mom can sit with her legs perfectly aligned and tucked.
“The Sandsal monarchy has undergone quite a change. Tell us, what made you want to make this change in the first place? I’m sure these traditions have been in place for centuries.”
The king clears his throat, looking a bit uncomfortable. I think they only agreed to this interview to appease me, but that’s okay. I’ve also agreed to do things to appease them.
“At first, we weren’t all on board with the change,” the king says. “Our son, Prince Adrian, came to us because he didn’t want to take part in an arranged marriage. Nor did he want to rule. If he didn’t accept the throne, it would have gone to his much younger brother, Rowan, who would have had to marry as soon as he turned eighteen. But Prince Adrian suggested our daughter, Felicia, was the one meant to reign.”
“This change stems from your decision to divorce, correct?”
The queen straightens her back. “Yes. Although we are committed to our family, we will be divorcing once Felicia marries next month.”
“And is her marriage arranged?”
“No. She’s free to marry whomever she chooses.”
I nod and straighten my cards. “This seems like the perfect time to bring Felicia out.”
Felicia strides out, and we kiss each other on both cheeks. I really need lessons on how to sit like them. She smiles at her parents, her dark hair in curls that make her look so much younger.
“Felicia, tell us, how did you find a husband in only three months? That’s not a lot of time to fall in love with someone,” I say.
“I’ve heard of people falling in love in less time,” she says, and I blush after the king and the queen look at me. “But no, I’d been seeing someone. At the time I was keeping it private.”
“I imagine it’s hard to find a partner on your own when you’re a member of the royal family?” I ask the leading question even though I already know her fiancé is Clyde, the security guard she sent to retrieve Adrian when Princess Adelaide got herself outed. But we decided to keep his identity hidden for now.
“It can be, yes. But sometimes love is close to home. My fiancé worked as my security. He’s a decorated soldier for our country and a noble man who understands the responsibility our family has.”
She’s already so practiced, I can’t imagine anyone but her becoming the queen.
“Well, I wish you both good luck and best wishes.”
She nods and smiles.
“Now the man who spurred the change in the small country of Sandsal, Prince Adrian Marx.”
The three guests stand and slide over so that Adrian can sit right next to me. That wasn’t planned and it throws me off at first. I recover and stand to shake his
hand, but instead he captures me in a hug and kisses my cheek. Felicia and the queen laugh.
Adrian sits down. “You look beautiful today, Sierra,” he says as though he’s going to conduct the interview.
“You look handsome as always,” I can’t stop myself from saying. “So what spurred you to request this change to the succession rules?”
Please do not say me. He refused to role-play this scenario beforehand, telling me he wanted to talk off the cuff. The man does not like restrictions.
“I came to America and I met a woman.”
I nod and clear my throat to compose myself. “And you just decided you no longer wanted to rule?”
He chuckles, leaning back with his ankle resting on his opposite knee. He’s so relaxed and at ease, it scares me. “I never wanted to rule. I’ve been clear about that for years. But this woman changed everything. She magnified the reasons I didn’t want to be king someday.”
“She must be great,” I say with a chuckle.
“She’s amazing.”
“So you’ve decided to take yourself out of line to rule should something happen to your sister?” It’s a terrible thought, but one that people in his position has to think about.
He smiles, his fingers straightening the hem of his slacks. “Once my brother, Rowan, is old enough, I will take myself out of line. He’s not ready to rule just yet.” He leans over and turns to Felicia. “So no skydiving or anything dangerous until Rowan’s twenty-five.”
The whole panel laughs, as does our camera crew. I swear, this man. Oh, how I love him.
I ask, “So what’s on the horizon for you all?”
The king takes the queen’s hand. “A whole new life, right?”