“Hugh will accompany you the entirety of the trip?” Henrik asks from the sofa. I jump slightly, not having realized that he was even in the room.
“Yes, he will,” I agree with a nod.
“Best get a move on it, then,” he grunts.
I ignore his words and, instead, walk over to him, sitting down next to him when I’ve reached his side. Lifting my hand, I cup his cheek and force his head over to me, to face me, needing to see those green eyes on mine. When I do, I’m left feeling terrible. He looks so damn sad.
“Henny,” I murmur.
“Just go,” he croaks.
“Four weeks, Henrik. Only four weeks,” I whisper.
“You hope,” he grunts, down casting his eyes.
“Don’t be this way.”
“Go, precious. Be good and have fun,” he mutters.
“I’ll be back in four weeks.”
I press my lips to his, but he doesn’t attempt to deepen the kiss, and neither do I. It isn’t needed right now. We’ve already had our moment in the bedroom, and last night—last night we truly made love. It was beautiful, our real goodbye. When our kiss breaks, I press my forehead against his and just inhale his scent.
“If you don’t leave, I’ll be forced to take you to the bedroom and tie you up to keep you here with me,” he whispers.
“You’re terrible,” I respond with a giggle.
“I’m not kidding,” he grunts.
I shake my head, smiling at him. He’s sullen and irritated, sulky like a child. My Henrik isn’t used to not getting what he wants, and apparently that makes him act extremely childish.
I press my lips to his one last time before a knock on the door interrupts us. Standing, I walk over to the door and see Hugh on the other side.
“You’ll watch over her, keep her safe?” Henrik asks walking up behind me.
“With my life, your Highness,” Hugh nods.
“No more of that, Hugh. It’s not my station anymore. Henrik is fine,” he shrugs.
“Sir,” Hugh murmurs, taking my bag and walking toward the elevator to wait for me.
“Come home to me,” he mutters, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me into his chest for a hug.
“I will,” I whisper.
We break away from each other, but we don’t kiss. The tears are starting to well in my eyes, and I need to get out of here, or I’ll allow him to tie me up and keep me with him, without hesitation.
I walk away, leaving half of my heart behind me with him. I know that this is needed, but it still hurts with each step that takes me further from his side.
“Four weeks,” Hugh mutters as the doors close.
“I’m being a baby.”
“You aren’t, but after everything…”
Hugh knows it all, everything that’s happened, and he’s been at my side, protecting me from the media with every step I’ve taken.
He knows what people are saying and he knows how the family works. He also knows what a large sacrifice it was for Henrik to relinquish his title.
“I need the space.”
“You need the space,” he agrees.
“We’re going to become besties, Hugh, you and me,” I say, grinning up at him.
“Perhaps Jasper would wish to accompany you on this trip,” he grunts before he winks at me.
“You’re terrible,” I huff as we walk toward the waiting car.
There are no reporters or cameras today, and I’m grateful. I climb into the passenger seat, not wanting to sit in the back all by myself. We have a bit of a drive to our first destination, where I’ll be staying for just a few days, then we’ll be jet setting on airplanes for the rest of our schedule.
“Do you like American Country music, Hugh? Please tell me you adore it,” I smile.
Hugh only grunts, trying to ignore me. I don’t let him, though; we’ve got three hours in the car alone together. It’s road trip time, and I need to do something to keep my mind off of Henrik.
I plug my phone into the port and I crank up some George Strait. I let him sing about his ex’s from Texas, and I sing along, annoying the hell out of Hugh—but I notice that he’s smiling while I do it.
I try not to think about last night, about our goodbye, and I fail. It was absolutely beautiful. Henrik and I ate a delicious meal inside the apartment, silence deafening and sadness filling the air, but then we went to bed and we were desperate for each other.
It hadn’t mattered that we’d had sex so many times I’d lost count; that we’d both come until we exhausted ourselves. We needed more of each other.
“Four weeks isn’t so long,” Hugh says, interrupting my memory.
“Yeah,” I whisper, my eyes shifting to the passenger window.
I close the door after I’ve watched her go. I feel empty inside. I look around my flat, realizing that Caitriona has only been here for a few weeks and yet, she’s part of the space now—part of me now. She’s worked her way into my heart, into my soul, and I couldn’t be happier.
I had to go and fuck it all up, all of it, and now she’s gone. She says it’s only for four weeks, but what happens when she comes back and realizes she doesn’t want me anymore?
I call the only person I can think of to take my mind off of it all. I call my brother.
“Henrik?”
“Want to go to the club, play tennis or golf, or fucking something? I need out of this flat,” I grunt.
“She’s left, then?”
“Yes, she’s fucking left,” I growl.
I’m in a piss poor mood, and I don’t even try to hide it.
“Right, okay, you big bear. Let’s play eighteen holes.”
After agreeing to meet at half past the hour, I make my way into the bedroom to change into my golf attire. The room seems smaller than it did yesterday, void of life and excitement. It seems so quiet—so still.
Riona brings such vibrancy into my life that I didn’t even realize, not until she left. Even when she’s doing nothing, she’s still lighting up rooms just by walking into them.
I don’t know how I’m going to last the four weeks without her. I fucked up—I fucked us up. I want her to come back to me and tell me that she loves me, that she can’t live without me, that she was miserable the entirety of her trip.
In reality, none of that will probably happen. Her trip will be a grand success because she’ll be helping people, and her cause is close to her heart.
Then there’s love—I don’t know if we’re in love yet. I know that what I gave up, I wouldn’t do for just any woman. The way I feel right now, without her here, I wouldn’t care if I didn’t have romantic feelings for her.
Thinking about being without her makes me feel nauseous. I want to have a family with her one day and to keep her at my side always. If it’s not love, then I don’t know what it is. It’s definitely not just lust, although I do lust after her.
I leave the empty flat, knowing that it will be void of life and vibrancy for the next four weeks and feeling absolutely ill about it. Perhaps a day with my brother is exactly what I need to lift my spirits.
Making my way to the club, I think about everything, unable to get Riona off of my mind for even a split second. I have a feeling that I’ll be burying myself in work, completely and totally, just to keep my mind off of her.
This afternoon, however, golf awaits.
I FOLLOW THE WOMAN DRESSED in a beautiful cream pantsuit through the Children’s Hospital. The walls are brightly painted with cartoon looking animals throughout each and every hall we turn.
Hugh is at my back, keeping a fair distance from me, but also being close enough to do his job, which is to protect.
The woman prattles on about budgets and such. I don’t have money to donate, that’s not why I’m here. I’m here for my time, to meet children, and to just listen to them.
Although, an idea springs to the front of my mind. A charity gala. I make a mental note to text Beatrice and ask about it. If she can help me orga
nize one, then maybe I can donate all of the proceeds to finding a cure for childhood cancer—not necessarily each hospital individually, but toward the research itself.
“This is the terminal floor; we’ll skip that and I’ll take you to see the babies,” she announces.
“Why would we skip it? This is exactly where I wished to go.”
“Why?” she asks, actually looking baffled.
I don’t bother explaining a thing to her. She obviously wouldn’t understand. I walk past her, Hugh a little closer to me now, and make my way toward the nurse’s station. The nurse freezes when she sees me, and her mouth gapes open slightly.
“I’d like to visit with some children, if that’s possible,” I say, trying to sound as poised as I can.
“You’re Princess Caitriona,” she whispers. “Oh, I’ve been following you.”
I don’t know what to say. I don’t know if her following me is a good thing, or a bad one. I’ve yet to actually speak to many people since I’ve moved here. I’ve been pretty isolated, except for Sarah, Henrik’s family, and Hugh.
“I hope you gave Prince Henrik an earful when he went to that gala without you,” she says as she stands and walks around the counter. I giggle at her words and nod.
“I did,” I confess with a grin.
“Good. Now, are you sure this is the floor you wish to visit? It can be very depressing here,” she says quietly as she looks around to make sure no passerbys have heard her.
“It is, please.”
“Right. This way then,” she motions. “I know the perfect first visitor for you. Elizabeth is the sweetest child, and I think she knows more about the royal family than the King himself,” she giggles.
We walk inside of the dark room, and the first thing I notice is the smell—it’s awful. My stomach turns, but I try to ignore it. I see a woman sleeping in the corner and realize that she must be the little girl’s mother.
Then I look over to the girl. She’s nothing but skin and bones. She has a scarf wrapped around her head, and she looks like she’s about to disappear into thin air, she’s that small.
“Elizabeth, dear, wakey wakey. You have a visitor,” the nurse calls out.
I take my eyes from the girl briefly and turn to her mother, who has now sat up and is looking around in confusion. I decide to introduce myself before I just start talking to her daughter.
“Hello,” I say, holding out my hand for her. “I’m—.”
“I know who you are,” she says dipping her head. I can’t tell if she’s angry about my being here or not.
“I was wondering, if it’s okay with you, could I spend some time with your daughter?”
She looks around and her eyes snap to Hugh.
“He the man who’s going to be takin’ pictures?” she asks with a snarl.
“No pictures. He’s my security,” I say with a smile.
I understand her hesitancy now. She thinks that this is nothing but a photo op and I’m using her daughter for it.
“No pictures?”
“I’m here just to visit and talk. Nothing more,” I murmur.
She gives me a nod but keeps her eyes on me in suspicion.
I spend the next twenty minutes chatting with the gorgeous little Elizabeth who is beyond excited to meet a real royal member of the family. I laugh her off, because though I technically am married to Henrik, I’m nothing special, not really.
“Did Prince Henrik really renounce the crown for you?” she asks.
“Elizabeth,” her mother hisses.
“It’s okay,” I laugh. I hear Hugh cough out a laugh behind me as well.
“He did,” I say. Then I whisper very closely to her, “It’s all very sordid. See, we married without proper approval, and this upset some people. So, instead of fighting with his family or anybody else, Henrik decided to relinquish his title.”
“To keep the peace,” she says with a nod.
“Yes, to keep the peace.” I agree.
“And Princess Nicoline?” she asks with wide eyes.
“A surprise set up,” I admit with a smile.
“Weren’t you terribly hurt?” she asks.
“I was very hurt, yes. But when Henrik discovered how hurt I was, he apologized immediately.”
“Did you take him back?” she asks. I love how she’s quite the gossip. She’s smart as a whip, too.
“I’m not sure yet. Should I take him back?” I ask, raising my brow.
“He is very handsome,” she says, as though she’s truly mulling over her advice for me. “I think that if he begged your forgiveness, crawled on his knees for you, then yes, you should.”
I giggle and take her hand in mine.
“You’re amazing, Elizabeth,” I whisper.
“Thank you for coming to visit me. I won’t be alive to see you have children with Henrik, but when you do, I hope you have dozens,” she grins.
I don’t stay much longer, as Elizabeth begins to drift to sleep. I walk outside of her room, her mother following behind me. Then she throws her arms around me in a hug. I return the hug, hers much tighter than mine. She sobs in my arms, this mother of this beautiful, yet very sick child, sobs in my arms.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
“I feel like I haven’t done anything,” I say as she takes a step away from me and begins wiping her eyes.
“But you have. You made her smile, and just that alone is worth a million pounds,” she says.
“How long does she have?” I ask, feeling a weight settle down on my heart.
“Days, hours, minutes. We aren’t sure exactly,” she whispers.
I give her one last hug, holding her close as I do, and whispering that she and Elizabeth will both be in my prayers.
I leave them and continue down the corridor. I visit every single terminally ill child in the hospital. I spend a minimum of thirty minutes with each of them, and my heart aches with every single child’s situation. I cry with every single parent who is at their child’s side, and when I leave the hospital, it is with a new determination.
I will be part of this cause. I will use my name as Caitriona Stuart to help find a cure.
“You were very poised,” Hugh says as we walk out to the car.
“This was the most difficult thing I’ve ever experienced,” I whisper.
“It will only get more difficult as we go. I doubt it will get any easier. This has a place in your heart. You’re doing what you are meant to be doing,” he murmurs.
“Why do I feel like I’ve done absolutely nothing?”
“What feels like nothing to you is everything to them,” he says with a nod.
“How do you know?”
“I was one of those parents once. My daughter died from cancer. So I know that sometimes, watching a stranger smile and engage your sick child as though they are completely normal, that can mean everything. I also know that just giving a parent a hug, showing your support, that can mean the absolute world.”
I don’t stop the tears from falling at Hugh’s confession. I take his hand in mine and I give it a squeeze as he drives toward our hotel for the evening.
“I’m so sorry to hear that. It makes me want to do this even more,” I say, keeping my head forward and my eyes aimed out of the window.
“You’re a good woman, Cait,” he says as we pull into the hotel’s valet.
“Your daughter’s mother?” I ask out of curiosity.
“She couldn’t handle it. We split about a year after she died. I tried to help her, but she didn’t want the help,” he murmurs.
“You’re a good man, Hugh,” I say repeating his words.
“I could be a better man. I could have been a better husband and father. The situation, when you’re in it, you’re so invested that you can’t see anything else. There is no bigger picture, because your only picture is sick and you’re helpless to fix it.”
“All you can do is your best,” I say softly.
“Exactly. But when people like you, an
d you’re special even if you don’t believe it, take time to visit with them, especially the way you did it with no press, that’s so touching and special. You’re married to a prince, relinquished crown or not, he’ll always be a prince to us. You’re a princess by default, and you’re giving them your time, not because you want cameras to capture it for publicity, but because you truly just want to. That means so much. You’ll never know how deeply you’ve just touched all of those people.”
Hugh doesn’t wait for my reply. He exits the car as the Valet attendant opens my own door. We don’t speak of the conversation again. It’s said and done. I know a piece of Hugh’s past that most people probably don’t know, and I feel honored that he trusted me with that.
We’re all people. We all have pasts. We all hurt. If I can ease that pain for somebody, even if it is just for fifteen minutes, then it all becomes worth it.
The paparazzi and the news stories, the pictures and the name calling, I’ll take it if that means that I made a sick child smile because they know who I am and I’ve made them feel special.
Sarah walks into my office for our monthly meeting. She usually informs me of royal business, telling me about certain events coming up, different obligations that I’m required to attend, things of that nature.
Today, she walks in with a grim look on her face. It surprises me, as she’s always chipper for our little chats.
“What’s happened, then?” I ask as I turn away from my computer to face her.
“I’m absolutely stunned,” she whispers. Then her lips curve into a big smile.
I wait for her to continue, but instead of saying anything, she tosses a gossip rag on my desk. I pick it up and scan the front page. It’s a picture of Caitriona walking out of the Children’s Hospital that she was scheduled to visit a few days ago. She’s clearly wiping a tear from her eye.
“What’s this?” I ask, not reading the article, knowing that Sarah already has.
“They love her. They absolutely love her,” she beams. I arch a brow waiting for her to continue. “She’s the princess with a heart. She’s done all of these appearances, in a way that’s never been done before, and the public is eating it up.”
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