“She can’t murder you on your birthday.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You want to bet?” I drawl.
Aiden chuckles. A tiny burst of heat spreads through my chest at the sound of it. He tends to be a bit serious, so to hear him laugh, to make him laugh, well, that is about the best present a girl can ask for. “What are you doing out here? Not enjoying the party?” I manage to ask once I’m able to find my voice.
Aiden’s cheeks go beet red as he pulls his sketch pad against his chest so I can’t see it. “I…I just…bollocks,” he replies sheepishly.
“What’s wrong, Aiden?” I ask, my concern overriding my hormones.
“I didn’t get you anything for your birthday,” he admits. “I’ve just been so busy. Father has me sitting in on his weekly meetings with the prime minister.”
“Oh. I don’t care about that. Your family has given me enough. I mean look at the party they’ve thrown me,” I say, nodding my head toward Craigowen Lodge.
“A party that you hate,” he retorts.
“I don’t hate it. It’s just…”
“Not you?” he asks.
“Not quite,” I admit, feeling like a spoiled brat. “But I am so thankful,” I add. “I wouldn’t want you to think—”
“I wouldn’t. Ever,” he assures me, grabbing my hand and giving it a squeeze.
I’ll never again make fun of all those melodramatic girls in movies who swear they’ll never wash their hands after they shake hands with the rock star.
“I do love it here, though,” I say, looking out at the scenery around us. Craigown Lodge is one of the smaller, more intimate houses that belongs to the family. Tucked away in the Scottish Highlands, it has been in the family for centuries. Stone cobbled together with dark wooden floors and fireplaces in every room. It feels quaint, or at least as quaint as a royal residence can feel. It’s the one place where I don’t feel dwarfed by what I’m not.
“Oliver’s doing,” Aiden notes.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“Mrs. Wright wanted to have your sixteenth birthday party in one of the state rooms at the palace, but Oliver insisted here. I guess he figured there was no way Mrs. Wright would let you have exactly the party you wanted. Did you two really think she was going to let us go to the World Cup?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.
“A girl can’t have dreams?” I scoff.
He laughs, shaking his head. “Once Oliver knew that wasn’t going to happen, he demanded that at least we celebrate your birthday here. It was quite the battle.”
“Wow. I had no idea,” I admit, smiling at Ollie’s gesture.
“Trust me, we were all shocked. Who knew Oliver could be so surprisingly considerate,” he jokes.
“Well, he can certainly be surprising. Right before I came down here, I walked in on him and Susannah Barrington going at it in the pantry. It was, well, disturbing doesn’t seem like a strong enough word,” I reply, faking a shudder.
Aiden furrows his brow as the smile slips from his face. “Are you all right, Alexandra?”
“Am I all right?” I ask. Why wouldn’t I be all right? “Yeah, of course. It wasn’t the back of my head Ollie was trying to shove his tongue through. I’ll just have to suffer through weeks of nightmares about it.”
“Are you sure?” Aiden asks gently. “It seems rather careless of him. Going around snogging girls on your birthday.”
I shrug. “Doesn’t bother me if it doesn’t bother that poor girl.” Aiden continues to stare like he doesn’t quite believe me. “Won’t you show me what you’re drawing? You know I love them,” I say, pointing toward his sketchbook, hoping to change the subject.
Aiden runs a hand over his face, which has once again turned an alarming shade of red. “That’s why I came out here. To draw you a birthday present,” he admits quietly.
Heart beating fast. Too fast. Going to explode.
“So, I thought I would draw this place for you,” he continues, handing me his sketchbook. “I know we can’t make it out here very much, so I thought you could at least have this to hang in your room.”
I’m dying. I’m seconds from dying. Mrs. Wright won’t get the chance to kill me. “It’s beautiful,” I gasp as my fingers trace the place I love drawn by the boy I… I clear my throat. “The things you can create, Aiden, are truly something.”
“It’s just a hobby,” he replies, leaning closer to me in order to inspect his work.
I don’t know what compels me to do it. The warmth that fills me being around him. The beauty of the gift. Some new, wild surge of bravery that comes from turning sixteen. I reach up and grab his chin, turning his face toward mine. Inches. Just inches separate me from what I dreamed about. “It’s art,” I whisper, looking up into his boundless icy-blue eyes.
“How do you do that, Alexandra?” he asks, his lips dangerously close to mine.
“Do…do what?” I breathe.
“Everything you say, I believe. I don’t even question it. I’m surrounded all the time by so many people who just tell me what I want to hear, and even though you sit here and tell me what I wish to hear, I believe you. I’ve never known someone so good, so sincere.” His eyes dart to my lips as he swallows.
“I would never, ever lie to you, Aiden,” I swear, inching closer to him. This could be it. The moment. Aiden licks at his lips. For a second, the whole world stands still. He leans closer to me…
“Prince Aiden,” bellows a voice from the house. Aiden jumps back from me like fate stuck him in a slingshot and launched him across the yard. Scrambling to his feet, he calls out to the butler, “Yes! Here! We’re here!”
Now I know how Cinderella felt when the clock struck twelve and her carriage turned back into a pumpkin.
I barely register the exchange between Aiden and the servant. Something about a phone conference with the ambassador from France. Needed this instant. All I can hear is the sound of my own breathing. Each labored breath speaks of what may be. Something almost happened, and I want to chase that possibility until it becomes a reality.
Aiden holds out his hand to help me up. We walk back toward the house in silence. The rain starts to fall harder, and Aiden quickly removes his jacket to hold over my head. “Thanks, but I’m already a mess,” I note, pointing down to my dress, which is now soaked and covered with grass stains.
He stops walking and turns to face me. With ruddy cheeks and bright eyes, he stares at me. The rains drips down my nose onto my lips, and I lick.
“I’ve never wanted to draw something more in my whole life,” he says, his voice rough.
I glance behind me to take in the rain rolling across the moors. “It’s stunning,” I agree.
“I was talking about you.”
Aiden takes my hand in his, interlocking his fingers with mine. We walk like this all the way up to the house. Once we reach the door, he brings my hand up to his lips and lightly kisses my knuckles.
Somewhere in the universe my fairy godmother is working overtime.
We drop our hands to our sides and return to the real world.
Chapter Eleven
22 Years, 9 Months, 26 Days (Barely)
What was the point of growing up with the royal family if I couldn’t convince one of them to behead whoever was knocking on my bedroom door at four in the morning?
“Ugh, hold on a second,” I groan, reaching for my sweatshirt and pulling it over my tank top as I stumble across the dark room. I nearly trip over the train of my dress, which hangs from the partition. I hold up my middle finger in its direction. “All your fault,” I hiss at the dress. Somehow, if I never would have put on that dress, Ollie wouldn’t have slighted me, and I wouldn’t have overreacted to some asinine comment he made. Yes, it is all the dress’s fault. And, somehow, the dress is responsible for whoever is at my bedroom door, too.
That’s what I get for trying to be someone I’m not.
“I swear to David Bowie, someone better have stolen the Crown jewels,” I mutter as I o
pen the door.
“Ollie?” I gasp. I barely get his name out before he falls into my arms.
“Alexandraaaa,” he slurs. “I called you Alexandra tonight.”
“I remember,” I huff as I pull him into my room, shutting the door behind us. “How drunk are you?”
“Sloshed,” he sings with a grin. His legs start to wobble, and I know I don’t have long before he passes out. “You’re a lot heavier than I remember,” I grunt, helping him to my bed.
“Pure muscle, lass,” he replies.
“How the hell are you this drunk? I know Mrs. Wright was watching you like a hawk during the party,” I ponder, a band of sweat breaking out across my forehead.
“After-party with Henry,” he answers in between hiccups.
“All you had to say was with Henry,” I reply, shaking my head. While Ollie has tons of mates, there are only a few I’d really call close friends. For some reason, he counts Henry as one of them. I always thought him a bit of a scoundrel. A gateway drug to parties and girls and forgetting who you were.
“What are you doing here?” I ask in between pants. God, this boy is all muscle. He could crush me. What would it feel like to have his body pressed together with mine? Would I enjoy that? The weight of him against me?
Of course I would.
Stupid love and its ability to make you completely lose your mind.
“You know there are quite a few girls who would be thrilled if I showed up at their door late at night,” he purrs softly in my ear.
“I forgot how cocky you get when you drink,” I reply. I roll my eyes, trying to ignore the way his breath tickles my skin.
This isn’t an entirely new routine for us. Back before things got so messed up, Ollie would often find himself outside my door, completely knackered, and wanting to crash in my room. It didn’t mean anything back then, him cuddled next to me, sleeping off the alcohol.
If those moments we shared cuddled together on my bed had meant something, I was too stupid to notice.
“Weeee,” Ollie says as he crashes onto my bed. If we are at the “weee” state of drunkenness, this will be a short conversation. All things considered, that feels like a blessing.
Usually, I would have plopped right down next to him. We would have lain there talking about everything and nothing at the same time. Me laughing while he rambled on and on about this mate or that girl. But that was then.
I remain standing, leaning against my desk.
“You’re still mad at me.” Ollie laughs, pointing a finger at my dress in an attempt to point at me.
I glance back at the gown and shrug. “Well, you did insult her with your ‘I am a giant royal pain in the ass’ disdain.”
“Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached the avoidance part of the evening. Watch how young Ryans uses her gift of sarcasm to avoid conflict!” Ollie bellows out.
“Ssssh, you’ll wake someone,” I beg. The last thing I want is to have to explain this.
“Don’t get your knickers in a twist,” he counters. “Wait. Should I not mention knickers? You know, ’cause of what happened?” he asks with a wink and a waggle of his eyebrows.
“Ollie, I don’t care how drunk you are. I will sucker punch you in the throat,” I warn.
His grin falters. He lets free a heavy sigh before running a hand over his face. “Come here,” he replies, reaching a hand toward me. “Why are you standing way over there?”
“I’m fine here. Why don’t you try and get some sleep?”
He falls quiet and simply stares at me, a sudden seriousness settling into his emerald eyes. I can’t decipher the meaning of it. I used to be able to read everything in those eyes, but now they might as well be the chemistry exam I walked out of last semester.
“Ollie?”
He takes another deep breath, shifting his eyes away from me. “Oliver Dudley, third in line for the throne of England,” he speaks to the ceiling as if the room and I suddenly forgot who he was. After a prolonged beat, he turns back toward me. Gone is the seriousness. The weight of what lies behind those eyes continues to be impossible to decipher. Back is The Ollie. The one where everything is fun and easy.
“If you don’t come over here, I’m going to start singing the Manchester United chant as loud as I can,” he warns. “Seriously. Stop being so weird.” He sits up and rests his back against my pillows. When I hesitate to join him, he raises an eyebrow, patting the empty spot next to him.
I groan. “You continue to be the most incorrigible man I have ever met.” Dragging my feet, I make my way over to the bed. Everything in my body screams danger danger danger.
The last time we were here together…
I sit on the bed with my back toward Ollie, careful that no part of me touches him. Sure, earlier in the day we had snuggled together on the loveseat, but even that feels like a lifetime ago. The temporary truce we had made lying there seems futile now. There is no going back. We can’t pretend that we haven’t slept together.
Ollie reaches forward and lightly touches my back. I nearly jump straight off the bed as my skin erupts in a thousand little goose pimples. Who was I kidding? My body never made that silly truce. It still remembers everything.
“Lie down, Ryans,” Ollie demands roughly.
The ticktock of the clock on my nightstand echoes his words. Taunting me. Lie. Down. Ryans. Tick. Tock. Lie. Down. Ryans. Tick. Tock.
My traitorous body does so without a second thought. For a moment, we both lie there, side by side, staring up at the ceiling in silence. If it only ends with this, it won’t be so bad. The longer we don’t speak of things that should remain unspoken or reach for things that should remain untouched, the safer it will be for both of us.
Just let him pass out.
Ollie grabs onto my waist, pulling me over until we’re facing each other. I inhale sharply, trying to keep at bay all the memories his touch calls forth. I haven’t chosen to live like a nun after that day, but nothing has ever been quite like those moments we shared. His fingers snake under my hoodie and tank top, making small circles against my hip bone. My eyes flutter a bit.
“Ryans,” he whispers.
“Yes,” I breathe back, not entirely sure what I’m saying yes to. I just know I want to say yes over and over again.
For a long time after that day with Ollie, I wondered if my newfound feelings for him weren’t just an aftershock of losing my virginity to him. A delayed response to the intimacy we found in each other’s arms.
But they’ve never gone away. Not even for a second.
“About what happened tonight with Aiden…”
That’s all it takes. Just the mention of his brother’s name and it’s like a thousand cold showers and Sunday school lectures rolled into one. My eyes pop open, and I roll onto my back. Ollie reaches for me again, but I smack his hand away. He clears his throat. “Okkkkay. As I was saying…I shouldn’t have taken my anger at Aiden out on you. Especially not after we both agreed to make the next couple of weeks as painless as possible. In fact, that’s why I was so pissed.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask, trying to regulate my breathing, which is currently caught in a war between relief and disappointment.
“I guess Aiden walked in on you and me on the loveseat,” he explains, “and he wasn’t very happy about that.”
“I saw him,” I admit, “when I woke up. I suspect it didn’t bring up the best of memories for him, but he was fine when I saw him tonight.”
“So I saw,” Ollie mutters. “He came to see me before the rehearsal dinner, and we talked.”
I reach up and smooth down my hair. “You talked?”
“Oh, yeah. He gave me the lecture of all lectures, and you know how Aiden loves a good lecture.”
“About what?”
Ollie reaches over and places his hand against my cheek, turning my head so I’m looking at him. “You know about what.”
Despite knowing better, I find myself leaning into his touch. Just as I’m
about to place my hand over his, he pulls away, clearing his throat. “He reminded me how we all made a right big mess of everything back then, and that when it came to you, neither he nor I made very good decisions. That we had to be better. We would do better. We owed it to our family, and your father, and most importantly we owed it to you.
“So, when I walked in and saw him all over you, I sort of lost it,” he explains before clenching his jaw.
“It wasn’t like that, Ollie,” I argue. I was comforted by Aiden’s touch, but it hadn’t affected me in the way it used to. Not like…how many years had I wasted chasing after the wrong boy? It was too late now. Even if Ollie felt the same way, I had messed up my life too much. If, somehow, I managed to stomach the press, it would all come crumbling down once they found out what a failure I had become.
“Maybe not for you, but if you could have heard him berating me, and then to find him with you like that, well, he didn’t hold up his end. That’s why I acted so weird at the party when I saw you in that dress. One look at you, and I thought, bloody hell, how am I going to be able to do this?”
“Do what?” I ask.
“You looked fucking fantastic in that dress.” Ollie groans as if he’s in actual pain. “I hate that dress. That’s how good you looked in it. Hell, you look fucking fantastic in a pair of sweats.” Ollie shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. It can’t matter. I’m not going to mess this up. We all missed you, Ryans, and I won’t do anything to scare you off again. I swear it. I acted like a fool tonight, and I had to make sure you knew that I knew that.”
“Wow, it only took twenty-three years to admit you’re a fool,” I say, attempting to lighten the mood.
“No one reminds me of that fact better than you, Ryans,” he replies before stifling a giant yawn.
I look back up at the ceiling and take a deep breath. “I do get it, Ollie. It’s not easy navigating this whole thing. Figuring out where we all stand. And my leaving? That was my decision. I shouldn’t have said what I did about, you know, that stupid comment about—”
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