by K. S. Thomas
“You weren’t aware that Myrna and Grandmother have been making an ongoing case against my taking the crown. That they’ve been digging up every last outdated loophole to prove me unfit as king so that Apsel can take my place?”
“No, I was aware of that.” He smiles sadly. “But I wasn’t aware you believed their efforts had any merit.” He clasps both hands in his lap and leans toward me. “Outdated though our policies may be, ultimately, only the current living king can choose his successor. And that, my boy, means only I can say who is fit and who isn’t.”
“You don’t think Apsel represents the better choice?” He’s never voiced it, but deep down I’ve always wondered if he chose me out of obligation or out of need to make up for the years we missed during my childhood. Or if he honestly believes I’m the best choice to rule over the land and the people he’s loved so dearly all of his life.
“I think Apsel would honor the crown and do right by Linden,” he says. “But, Lachlan, his heart wouldn’t be in it. Not the way it is for you.”
“And you would choose me to be king?” I ask, carefully formulating the rest of my thoughts before I say them out loud. “Even if your wife and mother advised against it. Even if I wasn’t married. Or even engaged. And even if I was raising a child born under scandalous circumstances with no blood relation to me or the royal family?”
My father’s concern from before returns. “Yes, I would.” His fingertips tap his mouth thoughtfully. “Lachlan,” he starts again, but I stop him.
“My mother’s ring,” I tell him. “It’s the one I should have chosen to begin with.”
My father doesn’t ask any more questions after that. Instead, he lights up and insists on ushering me down to the vault immediately to rectify my previous mistake.
Once the ring is securely tucked in my pocket, I realize there’s someone else I still need to speak to.
“Do you have a few moments?” I ask, poking my head inside the Rose library. Since Apsel’s been old enough to read, this has been the one place he can nearly always be found.
My brother looks up from his book, it looks like an antique and must have at least a thousand pages. “Is this about my stepping in to take your place at some meeting or another?”
“No.”
He closes the book and places it on the table beside his chair. “Then, yes.”
I step inside and close the door behind me. “I just...I guess I wanted to say I’m sorry. I know it’s been a bit of a whirlwind, me getting married and our father retiring and...the coronation coming up.”
His brow twitches as though he might frown but it doesn’t stick. Instead, he laughs a bit strangely. “I’m not sure those are things you need to apologize for.”
“Maybe I’m apologizing for any way you may have gotten caught up in the insanity,” I say awkwardly, trying my best to say I’m sorry for stealing the crown he grew up believing would be his one day without literally putting it into words.
Judging by the gradual smile forming on his face, I think he understands. “You mean my mother’s insanity.”
Maybe he understands even better than I thought. “I mean...everything around this crazy heir business, I guess.”
He sits up a little taller. He’s starting to grin now. “Want to know the craziest part of it all?”
To be honest, right now, I’m not sure I can handle it, but I owe my brother an attempt. “Sure.”
“I never wanted to be king.”
“What?” Nothing could be farther from the words I expected to hear. “I thought that’s why you’ve always hated me. Because I showed up out of nowhere to claim the thing you were essentially bred for.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, I was definitely bred for it.” He shakes his head, looking at his hands for several long moments before he raises his eyes to meet mine. “That’s why I hated you. Because you got to leave and have this totally normal childhood with your other brother, while I was stuck here, alone, being groomed by my mother for a role I was never going to play and a throne I never wanted to sit on.”
“So, all this time...” I’m not sure I can even wrap my head around it.
“I should have said something sooner.” The smile fades from his face. “But my mother -”
He doesn’t have to finish his explanation. “I understand. You didn’t want to let her down.”
“She’s difficult, I know,” he admits. “But she is my mother.”
It takes a few minutes, both of us staying in place, remaining silent while we process the revelations that transpired between us.
“I’d really like it if things could be different between us moving forward.”
He looks up from where he’s been staring at his hands again. “I’d like that too.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
GREER
As hoped, I manage to secure a quiet dinner with just Mal. It’s not even just Lachlan I’m avoiding. If I’m honest, I’m trying to put off any real conversations with Abbas and Chase until after the wedding. If I let anyone else get in my head and muddle things up, I may not be able to see straight anymore. And I need to. See straight. Now more than ever.
Mal, however, seems less concerned with seeing straight. She’s all about blurring lines today.
“You don’t mind if I slip out and peruse the castle a bit on my own?” she asks as soon as our plates have been cleared.
“I know you’re trying to sneak off to see Abbas,” I point out.
“Then can you play along and let me?” she huffs.
“Sure. Go peruse the castle a bit.”
She smiles. “Thank you, I think I will.” Then she dashes for the door. “Don’t wait up.”
With Katia gone as well, the loft feels empty for the first time since I’ve been here. Even Cheese is nowhere to be seen or heard.
For a moment, I just stand in the center of the room, taking in the silence and contemplating my plans for the night. It’s too early to go to bed. Ordinarily, I’d stroll across the hall and crash whatever conversation is happening in Lachlan’s room. But this isn’t ordinary anymore.
I sigh, accepting the fact that I may have nothing better to do than binge-watch some old show I’ve watched too many times already when a knock at the door gives me new hope.
“Abbas wasn’t perusing the castle to stage a casual run in with you?” I tease, making my way to the door to let Mal back in.
“I’m pretty sure Abbas is in the backseat of Soren’s car making out with Mallory,” Lachlan answers. “At least those were the plans he alluded to when he asked Soren for the keys.”
“I thought you were Mal.” I’m suddenly sorry I never learned the value of knowing who’s on the other side of a door before answering it. I never wanted to be held to that same standard, so it seemed prudent not to practice such habits myself.
“I noticed.” He smiles. A real smile. The sort I haven’t seen from him in days. “Can I come in? There’s something I need to tell you.”
I swallow down my desires to tell him no and instead step aside to grant him entry. “Any new devious wedding detours compliments of your stepmother coming my way?”
“Actually,” he says slowly, “No. Turns out, she no longer has the power to do that.” He turns back to face me while I close the door. “Kind of turns out she never had the power to begin with.”
I frown. “What are you talking about?”
He glances back and forth between me and the sofa across the room. “Can we sit?”
Sitting seems like a bad idea. Sitting will mean settling in and settling in will make the visit go on even after he says what he came here to say. And God only knows what I’ll say when the time comes to fill the empty space between us. But, telling him no and having to explain why seems like an even worse idea. “We can sit.”
He gestures for me to lead the way and I oblige.
When I take my seat it’s intentionally at the very edge but sideways, so it seems for the sake of keeping eye contact while we talk and
less for maintaining distance.
Lachlan seems less interested in personal space and chooses to sit smack in the middle of the sofa, though he also turns to face me. His face gets serious, but his eyes and mouth soften. Whatever he has to tell me isn’t bad news.
“I went to see my father this afternoon,” he starts.
“Oh?” The visit itself isn’t at all unusual, but the fact it’s worth mentioning is.
“I screwed something up and I needed his help to fix it.” His brow furrows and the regret of whatever mistake he feels he made lingers on his handsome face for a second before he goes on, “He mentioned the wedding and how he hoped he wasn’t making us feel pressured to maintain such a tight timeline. And it kind of opened the door to a conversation we really should have had a long time ago. Well, two conversations, if you count the one that followed with my brother.”
“You’re not surrendering the throne, are you?” Panic makes me sit a little taller.
“No.” He shakes his head. “As it turns out, regardless of what my stepmother and grandmother have led me to believe these past months, no amount of loopholes can overrule or influence my father’s choice.” He takes a deep breath, and his smile returns. “And he chooses me. Whether I’m married or not. With Monroe as my daughter.”
I should be elated by the news, but I’m struggling to convey it. “That’s...amazing.”
“It is.” He nods. “Though I feel a little foolish having dragged you into this whole mess for all the wrong reasons.”
His words shouldn’t sting, but they do. “Trust me, after seeing the queen in action, I don’t doubt she had you believing whatever she wanted you to.” I shrug. “So, the engagement is off?”
“Yes.” He reaches his hand into his pocket and retrieves a delicate, red velvet case. “The fake engagement is off.” Carefully, he opens the small box. His hands are shaking, something I’ve never seen them do. Lachlan is nervous. “But I’m hoping a true engagement will take its place.”
I stare at the ring glittering at me from the palm of his hand. “What?” I’m sure I’m not understanding what he’s saying. “But you just said it was all for no reason.”
“No, I said it was for all the wrong reasons. And I said I felt foolish, but not sorry.” He takes my hand in his and I’m too shocked to stop him. “Greer, I should have seen right from the start what was motivating me to keep you close. To bring you here. To want to marry you.”
“You want to marry me.” I don’t know why I repeat the words back to him. Maybe so he can hear for himself how insane they sound. Only when I hear my own voice say them out loud, they don’t sound nearly as crazy as they did in my head. They actually sound kind of...wonderful.
“I want to marry you,” he says again, his face lighting up in a way I haven’t seen it do since we left New York.
New York. My home. My reality.
“Why?”
He laughs. “You really haven’t figured it out yet? I would have thought you of all people, queen of the self-help section and goddess of insight would have seen right to the heart of the matter a long time ago. You certainly saw right to the heart of me.” The laughter fades from his voice and it’s replaced with a tenderness I’ve never heard from a man. “I’m in love with you, Greer Philladora Deluca. And I would very much like you to steal my half and half for the rest of my life.” His eyes crinkle as his voice trails off.
“I was borrowing not stealing,” I whisper. It’s probably the world’s most ridiculous response but it’s the only one I can put into words. My mind and heart are battling for control of my mouth, and until one of them wins, I’m afraid nothing of substance is likely to come out.
“You can go ahead and freak out,” he says quietly. “I got this. I know what I’m doing. So, unravel and tell me all the reasons this is crazy. It’s not going to change what I know.”
“I can’t marry you.” I can’t even tell if it’s my head or my heart that won. Everything inside me goes numb the second I utter the words.
“You can,” he says. “The question is, do you want to?”
That’s not a fair question. Of course, I want to. “I can’t,” I repeat the only thought available to me. “I’m sorry. I just can’t.” Before he can say anything else to sway me, I move my hand from his and shoot upright to stand. “If your future as king and Mo’s father is secure here, I really think it’s best if I leave as soon as possible.” I take a step back. “We’ve both allowed ourselves to get caught up in the lie we told. This story we created about who we are to each other and the feelings we share, but it’s not real. And even if it feels like it is, the truth is, it can’t be. Because the person you think you love is a character I’ve been playing since I got here. It’s not who I really am.”
“Greer,” he starts again, still strangely calm and unhurt even as I’m throwing countless rejections his way. “You can try to rationalize away your fear from every angle, but it won’t change the truth. We didn’t believe our own lie. The lie just gave us the freedom to have our feelings without having to admit them or run scared at the first sight of them.”
“That’s not what I’m doing.”
“That’s exactly what you’re doing.” He closes the ring box and places it on the coffee table before he gets to his feet as well. “This was the ring my father once gave to my mother, the love of his life. It’s yours to keep. Whether you choose to wear it or not, you’re the only woman in the world I’m ever going to want to give it to.” He holds my eyes with his for so long I start to feel dizzy. I can’t breathe when he looks at me this way. “Soren will make whatever arrangements you ask. And I’ll respect whatever you choose.”
Then he bends down to gently press his lips to the top of my head. I’ve never had a sweeter gesture conjure more physical pain. My entire chest hurts, and every breath sends a shooting pain through me like a dagger. It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before. And it only intensifies as I watch him walk to the door and disappear beyond it.
For a long while, I feel like I can’t move. Then, just as intensely as I felt frozen, rapid movement takes over. Motion. Action. It’s the only way to escape this pain.
Next thing I know, I’m up in my bedroom with my suitcase laid open on my bed. I’m practically jogging back and forth from my closet with arm loads of clothes, but my head is such a mess, I have to make repeat trips. I’ve acquired so many new clothes here, I can’t seem to wrap my brain around what goes and what stays at this moment.
Overwhelmed with the choices, I abandon the closet and head for the bathroom. At least I know all the toiletries are mine.
“Cheese,” I mutter. The only thing I absolutely can’t leave here without. I search the room for the nearest chip bag to crinkle. It turns out to be a box of crackers but shaking it around a bit should garner the same results.
“Come on, buddy,” I try to coax him out from wherever he’s hiding. “I have yummy crunchie things for you.” Absentmindedly, I reach inside and grab a handful, popping two in my mouth as I start to make my way to the stairs and back down. “Gross. Not crunchy,” I mutter to myself, giving the box another shake anyway. “Cheese, it’s time to go home. Don’t you miss home?” Even as I’m asking it, I don’t know how to answer it myself. Home. Somehow it feels like I don’t have one of those to go back to anymore. Like coming here turned my world so upside down, I’ve completely lost my place in it.
“Cheese!” I call out, simultaneously calling my wandering mind back to task. “Where are you?”
Back at ground level, I take things a step further and get down on all fours. The only time food isn’t enough to summon him is when he’s napping somewhere with a full belly.
Crawling along the large space, I stop at every piece of furniture and peek underneath. But it’s not until I reach the coffee bar, that I get lucky.
“Cheese?” I whisper, the side of my face pressed to the rug. “Is that you?”
Whatever I’m looking at isn’t entirely rat shaped, but I
can hear him snoring so I’m reasonably confident it’s him, likely sleeping on something he snatched up somewhere and chose to snuggle up on. “Cheese?” I try again when he still doesn’t move. This time he reacts, but it’s just to get up and nest a second before he curls back up to go to sleep again. “Come on, man,” I grumble, reaching under the furniture to tug out whatever he deems so comfortable he can’t rip himself out of his sleep long enough to part ways with it.
“Mo,” I breathe when I glance down at the small, blue leather shoe. She was wearing a pair of them last time I spent time with her. Seems forever ago now. And I didn’t notice she left without one, though in my defense, Mo has a tendency to lose socks and shoes alike wherever she goes. “So like a princess,” I sigh, and a small giggle surfaces in my chest and moves past my lips.
I let Cheese carry on with his nap under the coffee bar for now and instead make my way to the door. It’s late. Mo will already be in bed by now. But that just makes this the perfect time to return her slipper and say goodbye. I know she’ll never remember me, but there’s no way I’ll ever forget her. Seeing her lost in a dream in a peaceful sleep, seems like a beautiful parting image of her I can hold tight to for comfort even when she’s no longer just across the hall from me. She’ll be well. Safe. Loved. And most importantly, with her father.
“Dad?” It’s the second time tonight I’m caught completely off guard by the face greeting me on the other side of my door. “What are you doing here?”
“You didn’t really think I’d miss my only daughter’s wedding, did you?” he asks, wrapping both arms around me in a hug I didn’t know I needed until this very moment.
“Dad,” I sigh. “You didn’t have to come all this way for a fake wedding.”
He chuckles, walking past me to come inside. “I didn’t. I came for a real one.” He turns back over his shoulder to smile at me. “Is it not real yet? You know, you two are running out of time to sort this out for yourselves.”
I close the door behind him and follow him deeper into the loft. “Did Lachlan call you? Is that why you’re here?”