Cara sinks down into a curtsy, and the movement makes a lump appear in my throat. It’s too formal for how I feel about her. She shouldn’t be curtsying for me. She should be running to me and throwing her arms around my neck. She should be planting a kiss on my lips and smiling at me, pressing her body into mine.
But the distance between us grows. She stands up straight, moving to sit beside her father.
“I wasn’t expecting you tonight, Th— Your Highness.”
I wince at the formal title. Twenty-four hours ago, before we flew back to the main island, I had my face buried between her legs. Now she’s talking to me like she doesn’t even know me.
“I was hoping to speak to you alone.” I glance at her father, whose eyes narrow ever so slightly.
There’s a slight pause, and then he heaves himself off the sofa. “I’ll leave you to it.”
We watch him walk away. I stand up, moving to sit next to her. “I heard about your acceptance to Juilliard,” I start.
Cara’s eyebrows jump up. She glances at the door where her father disappeared, then lets out a sigh. Her hand moves to her stomach as she shifts her gaze back to me.
“I only heard about it yesterday when I got back.”
“Congratulations.” My voice is flat.
“Thank you.” Her eyes are dim.
Silence settles between us, and I try to find the right words. If I tell her I’m falling for her, will she feel obligated to stay? To give up her dreams? To sacrifice everything she wants just for me? Will I only be making her decision to leave that much harder?
Maybe I shouldn’t tell her anything. Let her leave without looking back, just like she wanted.
I take a deep breath. “I spoke to Dante.”
“Oh? Did he find anything?”
I nod. “Apparently having a spouse is only convention, not law. He thinks that with public opinion of me being so high, I can probably take the throne without getting married.”
Cara swallows. She forces a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “That’s good news.”
“Is it?”
She doesn’t answer.
“I haven’t spoken to my father yet,” I continue. “But if you agree, I’ll tell him that the engagement is off. That I’m not taking a wife before the coronation. That you’re pursuing your dreams in New York.”
Cara’s eyes fill with tears, but she blinks them away rapidly. She clears her throat. “If that’s what you want, it sounds good. Logical.”
“Is it what you want?”
“Does that matter?” Her gaze sharpens. She tilts her head as her hand stays on her stomach. It’s like Cara’s wrapping her arms protectively around herself, and I hate that I have that effect on her.
“Of course it matters.”
“Theo, you’re the King. You’re the one who needed a wife, and I’m the one who agreed to pretend. Why do you care what I think?”
“Because I care about you, Cara.”
She frowns, scoffing. “Are you asking me if I want to marry you?”
I gulp. “I don’t know. I’m asking you what you want.”
“Why?”
I jab my fingers through my hair. This is going all wrong. Nothing is coming out the way I meant it to. I wanted to come here, profess my love for her, and find out if she felt the same way. I had visions of her throwing her arms around me and promising herself to me. Saying she wanted to be my wife. Telling me she wanted to have my children.
But her acceptance to voice school changes that.
Now, if I tell her how I feel, I’m standing in the way of her and her dreams. Asking her to give up singing school is too much of a sacrifice. She’d be giving everything up…for what? For me?
I take a deep breath. “I care about you, Cara. I just want you to be happy.”
Cara’s face crumples as she turns away from me.
“Cara…” I put my hand on her thigh, the heat of her body sending a zing of heat through my arm.
Can I really let her go?
“Cara, I’m so proud of you. You deserve to go to the best voice school. You’re going to do amazing things.”
When she turns to face me, her eyes are clear again. She takes a shaking breath, gulping.
“So I guess this is goodbye?”
My heart squeezes. “I guess so.”
When Cara leans over and presses her lips to mine, I know it’s over. My heart splinters and cracks, sending pain radiating through my chest. Agony shoots through every muscle, every bone, every ligament and tendon in my body. I tremble, leaning my forehead against hers as I suck in a painful breath. My shoulder aches. Everything hurts.
Cara pulls away first, not meeting my eye.
“You’ll make a great King, Theo.” She stands up, smoothing her shirt down before lifting her gaze to meet mine. “Thank you for taking me with you on the tour. Even though it was temporary, it was one of the best experiences I’ve had in a long time. Maybe ever.”
So, stay. Be with me. Marry me. Be my queen.
The words are trapped in my chest. I stand up, bow, and turn on my heels to walk away.
Cara doesn’t follow, and I show myself out of her house. It’s done.
22
Cara
When I walk out of the living room, Cathy is standing near the doorway. Her lips are pinched and her eyes are full of sadness.
Behind her, my mother is leaning against the wall.
“What are you thinking, Cara?” my mother chides. “Did you just turn down the Crown Prince?”
“I can’t turn down someone who’s not asking me to be with him.”
“Oh, please,” she answers, rolling her eyes. “I couldn’t hear everything, but I know what the look on his face meant.”
“You shouldn’t have been eavesdropping.”
I turn away from the two of them, unable to withstand the assault of their gaze. Cathy looks heartbroken. She knows I didn’t tell Theo about the baby.
In my mother’s eyes, all I see is disappointment and deep-seated anger. I just ruined all her hard work. All the years she spent moving up the social ladder in Argyle. All the money she spent clothing us and sending us to etiquette school. All the social events she attended in order to get us closer to the royal family.
I finally had the chance to make it all worthwhile, and I threw it away.
At least, that’s what my mother thinks.
I could see Theo’s eyes. I heard him with my own ears when he told me about Dante’s discovery. Even if we had a magical few weeks together, that’s all it is—a few weeks.
I can’t marry him. I can’t become Queen of Argyle. It’s not what Theo wants.
He wants to be a good king, and serve the people of Argyle. He wants to be responsible and dutiful, and being with me isn’t part of his plan. Having a baby isn’t part of his plan.
All we’ve done is confuse each other, and it’s over now.
I would say it’s simpler this way, but I have a baby to deal with.
Shrugging away from my mother and sister, I head up to my bedroom. As soon as I close the door, I lean against it and shut my eyes. A deep, painful sigh slips through my lips.
I won’t cry. I can’t. I need to be strong.
If Prince Theo wanted to be with me, he would have said so. He wouldn’t have waffled on about me being happy. He wouldn’t have said anything about Juilliard, or about the laws allowing him to become King.
He would have said he loved me. He would have told me he’d die without me. That he needed me by his side. That he wanted me. He would have made it easier for me to tell him about the baby, because I’d have known I was safe in his arms.
But he didn’t. He basically told me to leave, and then showed himself out.
My head is a mess. My heart is broken. I’m pregnant, and alone, and about to face the wrath of my mother.
The pile of Juilliard paperwork is still scattered on the floor next to my bed. I move over to it, picking up the sheets of paper one by one
. When I pick up the letter of acceptance, I let out a shaky breath.
As I read the words for the thousandth time, I know what I need to do. There’s only one option open to me now. Theo made that clear.
I need to go.
I have to show my baby that it’s important to pursue your dreams. I have to be independent and chase something bigger and better than Argyle.
A tear slides down my cheek when I think about what that means.
It means saying goodbye to Theo. For good.
But isn’t that what we just did?
I sink down onto my bed and finally allow myself to cry.
For the next week, I avoid everyone. Especially my mother. That’s two relationships with two princes that I’ve ruined, and she’s not happy about it.
Maybe I should look at the signs that are staring me right in the face—it’s not meant to be.
My saving grace is my father. He books me a flight to New York and finds me an apartment close to The Juilliard School. He wraps his arms around me and tells me he’s proud of me.
I don’t have the heart to tell him about the baby.
Maybe once I’m out of Argyle and away from my suffocating family, everything will make more sense. I’ll be able to clear my head.
One week after I say goodbye to Theo, I board a plane from Argyle to New York City and I say goodbye to my old life. I clutch my belly, knowing that I only have a couple of months before my pregnancy starts to show. There’s a time limit to my silence. An expiration date to my secrets.
Soon, everyone will know, whether I say it or not.
As the plane takes off, I know I need to tell Theo before that happens. Cathy’s right. The future King deserves to know. If rumors and secrets start being exposed, it’ll hurt him. I don’t want that.
Now that I’m leaving, though, I can’t tell him in person. Calling seems too difficult. Texting is cowardly. I watch the runway shrink below the plane, and I leave my heart behind.
What would I even say? How can I overcome all the obstacles and lies that we’ve told ourselves—and each other?
When the plane is in the air, I pull out a spiral-bound notebook from my carry-on bag and start drafting a letter of all the things I didn’t have the courage to tell him face-to-face. I don’t know if I’ll send it. I might burn the letter as soon as we land—but I need to write it. I need to get the words out.
I tell him I care about him. The weeks we spent together were the happiest weeks of my life, and I think he’ll be a wonderful King. He showed me a side of life that I didn’t know existed—one full of laughter and love and happiness. When he brought me to see Prudence, he reignited my love for singing and made me believe in myself again.
He gave me my voice back, and even though he encouraged me to leave, I never wanted to go at all.
Finally, I tell him I’m carrying his child. My hand trembles when I write the words, and a teardrop smudges the ink from my pen.
It feels good to write it down.
By the time I’m finished writing, my cheeks are wet with tears and it feels like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. It’s cathartic to write the words, even if he hasn’t seen them yet. I read the letter over as my bottom lip trembles, and all the emotion of the past couple of weeks swells inside me.
Do I really want to send this? Will it only make things worse?
I know Theo is a dutiful person. If he sees that I’m carrying his child, will he feel forced to come make an honest woman out of me? Will he be afraid of the scandal? Will it change anything at all?
The seatbelt sign turns on, and the flight crew announces that we’re starting our descent. I look at the letter on my notebook for a moment before closing the cover and tucking it away. The landing is bumpy, and I grip the armrests until my knuckles turn white. When we finally come to a stop, my heart is thumping and a thin sheen of sweat covers my body.
I don’t know if it’s the fear that spiked my veins during the landing, or the relief of making it through alive, but as soon as I get off the plane I feel like a new woman. I go through customs and immigration in a daze, feeling the weight of my notebook in my bag as if it’s dragging me down.
Then, like a beacon of light in a dark night, I see a kiosk. The United States Postal Service logo calls out to me from across the airport lobby.
Without hesitation, I stride toward the kiosk. I drop my bag at my feet and rip it open, hunting for my notebook. I tear the scribbled pages out of it, ignoring the ragged edge of the paper. I stuff my words in an envelope and glue it shut, then scribble Prince Theo’s name on the front, then hesitate.
If I send it to the palace, will someone else read it? There’s tight security on mail that enters the palace. Not everything makes it to the royal family, and I don’t trust the workers to keep my secret. No one can know about this baby except for Theo.
Instead, I mark down the P.O. box that Luca and I used to use to communicate. The one I checked every single day. The one that was always empty, slicing my heart over and over like a thousand little paper cuts.
I hand the letter to the USPS worker and pay the few dollars needed to send it.
As soon as the letter slips through the slot, I let out a breath.
I don’t know if he’ll receive it. Does anyone even check that P.O. box anymore? Or was that letterbox just a monument to my desperation?
Staring at the slot where the letter disappeared, I realize that it doesn’t matter. What felt good about that was telling the truth. It was owning up to my feelings and putting them into words. Once they were on the page, they became real.
Next time I visit my family, I’ll check the P.O. box. If the letter is still there, I’ll know that Theo was never meant to know the truth of my feelings.
If he receives the letter and reads it, I’ll find out how he feels. His actions will show me. He’ll either accept me and the baby, or he’ll turn me away. Either way, it’s out of my hands now, and that feels good. I’ve done what I can do. It’s up to Fate to do the rest.
I walk away from the USPS kiosk with my head held high and a lightness in my heart. For the first time since this whole mess with Theo started, I’ve been honest.
I told the truth.
I love Prince Theo. I’m carrying his child. I’m not sure about being in New York, but I don’t want to stand in the way of Theo being the King that Argyle deserves.
I’m not asking anything of him, and I’m not promising anything of myself. We’re in different countries now, and we’ve decided to walk separate paths. Writing that letter and slipping it through the mail slot was my final act of courage.
The simple, naked truth is all I wrote, and it’s all that matters.
Now, I can move on.
23
Theo
The day Cara leaves Argyle, a gray, driving rain soaks the island. I stare out of the window in my palace bedroom, watching the waves crash onto the shore of the royal beach. Palm trees bend and wave in the heavy winds, their trunks arching so much it’s a miracle they don’t snap.
I turn away from the window when someone clears their throat behind me. My father stands in the doorway, his hand gripping a cane. I motion to a nearby armchair. My father groans as he sits down, letting out a long sigh as he settles into the chair.
“So,” he says. “You never intended to marry Cara Shoal at all.”
I grimace and shake my head. “No.”
“Why didn’t you just tell me?”
“You’re not exactly easy to talk to when you get an idea in your head.”
My father leans the cane on the side of the armchair before interlacing his fingers in front of his chest. He leans back, breathing slowly. I take a seat in the armchair opposite his, crossing my leg over my ankle.
We have surprisingly few quiet moments like this one. Even with my father’s illness progressing, there’s always hustle and bustle near the King. He’s always needed by half a dozen people.
Right now, though, we’re alone.
>
He nods to my shoulder. “When do you take the sling off?”
“Doctor says I should be okay to take it off in a week.”
“Quick recovery.”
“Six weeks,” I answer, thinking back to that day on the sailboat when Cara saved my life. That was the start of a chain of events that I could never have anticipated. A whirlwind of emotion and happiness that I thought would never happen to me.
Then, a deep, dark sadness that I’m not sure I’ll recover from.
My father grunts. “Once the sling is off, we can proceed with the coronation.”
“So soon?”
“Well, we don’t need to wait for a wedding now. Might as well make you King.”
“Are you sure you want to step down?”
My father chuckles, then spreads his hands out. “Look at me, Theo. I’m a decrepit old man. I can hardly walk, and every movement pains me. You think I can sort through stacks of paperwork every day? Reading more than two lines makes my eyes sore.” He sighs, shaking his head. “I’m not being fair to Argyle and her people. It’s time for you to step up.”
My father shifts his weight as if to get up when I stop him. He glances at me, eyebrows arched.
“Father,” I start, hesitating. I take a deep breath. “Why were you so insistent on me getting married when your marriage ended in such disaster? I saw the way you changed after Mother left. Why would you push me toward something that hurt you so much? I thought you, of all people, would be supportive of me becoming a bachelor King.”
My voice is gravelly. It’s hard to get the words out, and once I speak them, I regret them. I shouldn’t be dredging up the past.
But my father leans back in the armchair and lets out a sigh. He chuckles bitterly before shrugging. “I don’t know, Theo. Even though your mother betrayed me, lied to me, and hurt me, I still sometimes think it was worth it.”
I frown, not knowing how to answer. My mother’s betrayal broke him. It tore the kingdom apart. We’ve been in a downward spiral ever since she decided to walk out. Everything from the economy, to our family, to public opinion has suffered.
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