“It’s all right.” I waved my hand. “I’m just going back inside. I’ll find a book to read or something. Watch a movie. Binge watch a season of Jessica Jones.”
“I thought you’d seen all of that one.” Harold’s eyes twinkled. “At least twice.”
“I have, but I think Jessica suits my mood just now.” I turned around. “Don’t worry, Harold. You can stand down. I’ll stay in for the rest of the day. Hell, at this rate, I’ll be in for the rest of weekend.”
I closed the door with a little more force than necessary and dropped my bag onto the chair. The day stretched in front of me, empty, and the aimless sense of restlessness that filled me was irritating as all hell.
Not for the first time, I was keenly aware of how alone I was here. As I was growing up, and then through college and grad school, I’d had a small but tight-knit group of friends. If a few were busy, there were always others who might be around. And of course, my best friend Shelby, whom I’d met during freshman year of college, was like another sister.
But every one of the women I used to count on still lived in the states, across the wide Atlantic. I missed all of my friends, and I especially missed my sisters, my grandmother and my mom. We tried to keep in touch, but the time difference and my various commitments made it a challenge.
However, today I was sitting by myself with nothing to do but fill time. Impulsively, I reached for my phone. My finger hovered over Shelby’s name for a moment, but I hesitated to call my best friend. Something had been going on with her for months—and whatever it was, she’d been close-mouthed about it. Her silence made me reluctant to call for a vent session on my own small woes.
Instead, I scrolled down further and hit a different saved number.
“Is this my daughter the duchess?” My mother’s laughing voice spilled out of the speaker on the phone, bringing a smile to my face. “Hello, sweetie!”
“Hey, Mama.” I managed to get out just those two words before sobs began to choke me. I sniffled, trying to disguise my tears, but it was impossible to hide these things from my mother.
“Oh, honey, what’s wrong? Are you all right? I haven’t watched the news all day, but is something the matter?”
“No.” I shook my head as though she could see me. “I’m just—I miss you, Mama. I miss you, and I miss Daddy, and I miss the girls, and I miss home. I miss Honey, and I miss Handsome.” Thinking of my grandfather, who had passed away last winter, brought forth a fresh spate of weeping.
“We all do.” Sadness tinged her answering sigh. “It just doesn’t seem possible that he’s gone. I still walk into the beach house and expect to hear him booming a welcome from the kitchen.”
“How’s Honey doing?” My grandmother was resilient. She’d promised to make multiple trips to England to visit with me, but she was so busy with Honey Bee Juices, the company she and Handsome had started up over fifty years ago and for whom I currently worked, that she hadn’t been able to carve out the days yet.
“She’s wonderful. Your father and I are actually down here at the beach with her this weekend. Right now, I’m sitting on the porch, reading, with my feet up and a glass of lemonade in my hand. Your grandmother’s leading a senior nature walk around the Intercoastal. Nothing slows her down.”
“I wish she’d come see me. Bria texted last week. She said she and Lisel were thinking about visiting around the holidays, maybe. Couldn’t you all come?” It was wishful thinking, I knew. Even if my entire family flew over for Christmas, now that I was married to a prince of the British Royal Family, I was obligated to spend that holiday with his people. There was no way I could drag three generations of Duncans along with me to Windsor Castle.
“Maybe not this year, Ky. You know, we all spent two weeks in London earlier this year, for a little event where you got married.” Mama’s teasing was gentle. “You’ll have your own traditions to begin. You and Nicky need to establish how you’ll celebrate now.”
“Hmph.” I sniffed. Feeling the way I did at the moment, the last thing I wanted to think about was planning holiday fun with my husband.
“Uh-oh. Trouble in Paradise?” My mother laughed softly. “Is that why you sound so teary?”
“Maybe.” I wanted to dump the whole story on my mother’s lap so that she could tell me that I was right and Nicky was wrong. I wanted to be vindicated by her being on my side. But the woman didn’t seem to be taking the idea of our disagreement seriously. Clearly, she needed details.
“Well, I don’t need to know anything about it.” Her swift declaration poured cold water over the woebegone tale I’d been about to weave. “One of the first things my mother told me after I married your dad was that she didn’t want to hear our troubles. She said that if I confided in her, eventually I’d get over my tiff with your father and move on, but she’d always remember that he’d said hurtful things to her little girl, and she’d resent him. It was good, solid advice, and I’m going to pass it on to you.”
“Thanks, Mama.” I propped my feet on the coffee table. “Just so you know, though, I was in the right. Nicky’s the one who started it all.”
“Oh, I’m sure.” She sounded just the tiniest bit snarky, which rubbed me the wrong way, too. Shouldn’t she be loyally standing by my side? Having my back? “Ky, honey, I’m going to let you in on a little secret that no one seems to want to tell newlyweds. This is it: marriage is hard. Especially in these early years, when you’re still finding out who you are as a person, and you have to do it while figuring out how to be part of a couple, too. You’re going to have disagreements. You’re going to have fights. You might scream and yell at each other until you wonder why you ever bothered to marry this man.”
“Well . . .” That didn’t sound like anything Nicky and I would ever do. This little bump in the road had been traumatic enough for me. I couldn’t imagine a scenario where I’d scream at my husband.
“Oh, sweetie, right now you’re thinking that could never happen between the two of you. And good heavens, I hope you’re right. But the truth is that people who love each other deeply, who are in love with each other and committed to spending a lifetime together, are going to get seriously angry sometimes. You can’t have that kind of depth of feeling without it going sideways now and then.”
“You and Daddy never fought.” I’d always seen my parents’ marriage as a perfect model of love and devotion.
“If you think that, then you have a very short memory, honey pie.” Mama chuckled. “We used to quibble and spat all the time when you were a baby, because if there’s one thing that throws a couple into even more of a tailspin than adjusting to each other, it’s tossing another fragile human life into the mix.” She paused for a long moment. “That’s not . . . you’re not doing that just yet, are you, Ky? I mean, that’s not why you and Nicky fought? Why you sound so emotional?”
“No!” I was emphatic about that. “No, I’m not pregnant. I’m just pissed at Nicky for something that seems so clear to me. And then he went away this weekend, and I’m sitting here by myself. I have nothing to do and no one to talk to. No one to visit. Daisy and Alex are both gone for the weekend. I don’t have any other friends. I feel like a loser.”
“You’re hardly a loser, Kyra.” I could almost sense Mama rolling her eyes at my melodrama. “You’re just having a down day. Now where did Nicky go, that he left you home by yourself?” There was an edge to her tone that gave me hope I might yet win her to my side. Finally.
“He had to cover an engagement for his father. It was a last-minute thing, and it wasn’t a visit to a place where I could go along, too.” As I explained it to my mother, suddenly the situation didn’t seem like such a big deal. I wondered why it had felt that way last night.
“That doesn’t exactly seem unreasonable,” Mama said cautiously. “You knew when you started seeing Nicky that this is his life. He has commitments and obligations, and with his family being who they are, those must come first.”
“Yes, I know.” Sh
e wasn’t telling me anything new. “But we were supposed to go look at a new house—well, new for us, anyway—this weekend. We had to cancel, and I’d been looking forward to it, since Nicky was away this week.”
“Oh, the Scotland thing.” Mama’s voice tightened. “I’m sure the news made it look worse than it was in person, but those marchers seemed a little out of control. I’ll be honest—I was glad you weren’t with him. I’d have been crazy worrying about you.”
“Right?” Now we were getting somewhere. “I didn’t see what had happened until after Nicky came home, and he didn’t even tell me. I had to hear it from a reporter calling out a question. So I think I was entitled to be a little upset by that.”
“Ah.” I heard the nuance shift in my mother’s tone. “So that’s how it started, huh? And of course, you approached your husband reasonably, telling him why you were unhappy, calmly and in a loving way?”
“Well . . .” I hedged. “Maybe not so much. Maybe I sat and sulked for a while because he wasn’t home when I got here yesterday, and I had time to build up to a pretty decent mad. After that, everything spiraled out of control. I fell asleep downstairs last night, and when I woke up this morning, Nicky had already left for Winchester.”
“But sweetie, he’s coming back.” Mama’s reminder wasn’t news to me, but I realized that I’d needed to hear this from someone else. I’d needed that outside assurance on some level. “Nicky loves you. When the two of you are together, you’re like two planets orbiting each other.”
“That’s not scientifically accurate, Mama,” I cut in. “Planets don’t orbit each other.”
“First of all, research tells us that it is entirely possible that two binary planets orbiting each other exist in another galaxy. And second, I was using that as an analogy, not a strict description.” I heard her self-righteous sniff all the way across the ocean.
“This is what happens when your mother has degrees in both science and literature,” I remarked. “When you call her on fudging facts, she claims she was using a literary device.”
“You’ve figured out my plan, Ky.” My mother laughed. “All that work I put into my education was only to keep my children on their toes. All part of my scheme to take over the world.”
“I knew it.” I let my head drop to the back of the sofa and stared up at the beamed ceiling. “Mama, I know Nicky loves me. And I love him, too, of course, more than I ever thought it was possible to love another person. Most of the time, I’m really happy with my life. My work—both at Honey Bee and as a duchess—is so fulfilling. As long as it keeps me busy, or as long as I’m doing something with Nicky, I can’t imagine living any other way. But when I have downtime, I can’t deny how lonely England is for me.”
“You’ve never had any trouble making friends, Kyra. What about the people you meet through your patronage of the gardens in Tottenham? There must be some women there who you’d find something in common with.”
“Probably,” I agreed glumly. “Some of the families who were there when I started at the gardens are lovely, and they’re very kind to me. Almost like friends. But there are so many problems with making friends outside the family. I can’t be sure someone won’t talk to the press. I can’t tell who’s a real friend, and who wants to get close to me because of who I am—who I’m connected to. It’s not like when I went to kindergarten, Mama. I can’t just sit down and ask the person playing in the dirt next to me if she wants to be best friends forever.”
“I know that,” she shot back. “But neither can you live without friends. You can’t survive on occasional calls and visits from your sisters and Shelby.”
“Believe me, I realize that.” With my fingertip, I traced a design on the cushion of the sofa. “But it doesn’t mean I know what the answer is. I guess for now, I’ll just keep on doing my best.” I hesitated. “I’m grateful for Daisy, and even Alex, although I’m still a little too much in awe of Alex to call her a friend. Maybe I just need to pull up my big girl pants and realize that I’m not that college kid who always had a crowd of people to count on. Life changes. Now I need to do the same.”
“No matter what, sweetie, you’ll always have me.” There was a voice in the background, and my mother’s voice was muffled for a moment as she responded. “Hang in there. As I said, marriage, especially the early days, isn’t easy. But you’ll never be sorry you stuck with it.” She cleared her throat. “And speaking of sticking with it, your father is pestering me to join him on the beach. I think I’ll take him up on that offer.”
“Kiss Daddy for me, and enjoy yourselves.” I swallowed hard, suddenly so awash with homesickness that I could barely speak. “And thanks for listening to me whine, Mama. I’ll talk to you soon.”
“Love you, baby girl,” she murmured. “You’re going to be fine. I’m so proud of the strong young woman you are . . . and I have faith in your survival skills. Talk soon.”
For the space of at least fifteen minutes after we’d hung up, I slumped on the couch, staring into nothingness. Talking to my mother had reminded me that feeling sorry for myself was not my style. I wasn’t going to sit here all weekend and brood . . . I had better things to do.
I WAS CURLED UP IN my favorite chair in the living room, wrapped in a blanket and watching football on my laptop, when the door opened, and Nicky stepped inside.
My heart skipped a beat, thudding a little faster, and my mouth went dry. As much as I’d attempted to hold onto serenity and peaceful thoughts since Friday afternoon, now that he was here, all of that carefully cultivated calm fled.
He seemed more than a little uncertain, too, closing the door behind him quietly and dropping his bag on the floor.
“Hey, Ky.” Nicky spoke softly. “I’m home.”
“Yep.” I swallowed and carefully closed my computer, setting it on the end table. My skin was buzzing, and the air between us felt somehow thicker. I wasn’t sure what to say: should I pretend everything was fine, jump up and greet him with a hug that might ease the bruised feelings between us? Or should I stay stiff and unyielding, letting him make the first move . . . if he was going to do that?
I was in serious danger of overthinking this before my subconscious jumped into action, circumventing the rational, mostly sane part of my brain.
“You left without saying good-bye.” The words burst out of my mouth before I could stop them. I knew I sounded like a petulant child, but I couldn’t help it.
“I told you I was going away and probably wouldn’t be back until today.” Nicky moved closer to my chair and laid a hand on my shoulder, his touch tentative. “I didn’t just disappear. I didn’t run away.”
“But . . .” I swallowed hard. “You didn’t kiss me good-bye. I woke up, and you were gone. I felt like you’d left me.” As he began to speak, I added, “It doesn’t matter that you told me you were going, or that it seemed perfectly reasonable to you. For me, Nicky, it felt as though—” I drew in a ragged breath. “Like you’d hit me where I had a particularly tender spot. It made me think of . . . before.”
“You mean, it reminded you of when we were apart for those six months?” Sitting down on the side of my chair, he slipped his arm around my shoulders and tugged me closer, pulling me against his warm and comforting body. “Ky, not to put too fine a point on it, but I didn’t leave you back then. You ran back home.”
“After you told me to go!” I shook off his arm. “That day, when we left the luncheon, you were . . . cold. You dropped me at Alex’s apartment, and you went away. What else could I think but that you wanted me to leave? That was self-preservation.”
He was silent, his expression impossible to read as he stared into my face. And then his eyes closed, and he exhaled long.
“You’re not wrong,” he admitted. “And neither of us was completely at fault or completely blameless that day. I should have talked to you, trusted you . . . and I did push you away. I know I said it before, but still—I’m sorry, sweetheart. I never wanted to hurt you. I thought I was be
ing selfless and protecting you.”
“You don’t have to protect me, Nicky. I love you, and I love that you want to take care of me, but I’m not a child. I don’t need you to keep me safe.” I shifted and wrapped my arms around his waist, leaning into his chest. “That doesn’t mean I don’t need you, because I do. I need you to be my husband and love me. I need you to be my friend and listen to me. And I need you to be my lover and worship my body every night.” I peeked up at him. “Wasn’t there something in the marriage ceremony about that? ‘With my body, I thee worship’, I think it was.”
“I will worship your body with everything I am, for always.” Nicky tipped my chin up and rubbed my lower lip with his thumb. “Everything in my world revolves around you, Ky. Every decision I make is about you, about us. I only want to see your smile and to know that you’re happy.” He dropped a light kiss on my lips. “When I left on Friday morning, it was very early, and you were sleeping so soundly. So peacefully, after how upset you’d been the night before. I kissed you and tucked the quilt around you, and I whispered that I loved you. I promise, I wasn’t running away or skulking off in a huff.”
“Always kiss me good-bye, Nicky.” I reached up to frame his face with one hand. “Always kiss me good-night. Even if we have a lifetime together—a hundred years or more—I don’t want to miss a single one of your kisses. Promise?”
His blue eyes filled with tenderness. “I promise, sweetheart.” Sweeping one hand over my hair, he added, “I could try to make up for the ones I missed. If you wanted.”
I smiled up at him. “I want.”
His mouth came over mine again, seeking me, tasting me, and I opened to him, giving him full access to explore, his tongue delving between my lips to stroke against my own. Twisting, I pressed against him, needing to be closer, until I couldn’t feel where I ended and Nicky began.
“Ky,” he murmured, his voice muffled against my lips as he gathered me up and lifted me into his arms. “Let’s go upstairs so I can worship your body properly.”
The Anti-Cinderella Conquers the World Page 5