Is committing to him even an option?
Theo and I have never discussed actually being together. We’ve always operated under the assumption that this would end.
It did end. Approximately fifteen minutes ago.
But with the baby…
Wouldn’t that make him reconsider? Wouldn’t that make our relationship a lot more real?
Do I want to commit to him and to staying in Argyle?
Committing to being Theo’s wife isn’t just like anyone else. I’d be giving my life to the Kingdom. I’d be pushing my own dreams aside, once and for all.
My hand drifts to my abdomen, and I think of the life growing inside me. It terrifies me and excites me all at once. There’s a sense of wonder that grows with every hour that passes, filling me up like a helium balloon.
Am I fit to be a mother? Would Theo want to be a father?
Could it really work between us?
A thin stream of hope starts snaking its way through my heart. It’s a tiny sliver of brightness, but it’s there. It’s enough to make me hesitate. Enough to make me think that maybe being with Theo is what I really want.
Stay. Have a family. Love a man with all my heart. Serve my Kingdom and find my purpose.
What was my plan, anyway? Run off to the States, maybe to Farcliff, maybe to Paris or London or Madrid. I was ready to leave this life behind and chase my dream of making it as a musician.
But what if I can find myself right here in my home Kingdom? What if I can travel the world with Theo by my side?
I can sing for myself and for my baby. Isn’t that enough?
Or maybe, being with Theo would be the final nail in the coffin of my dead dreams. I’d see all these beautiful places around the world and be treated like a Queen, but I’d be sentencing myself to a gilded cage. I wouldn’t have the freedom to study music or to sing loud and freely.
With my heart in turmoil, I trudge toward the staircase that leads to my bedroom. Thankfully, the house is silent. My mother must be away with my sisters, and who knows where my father is. Probably in a body of water somewhere, swimming from dawn till dusk. That’s where he feels most comfortable.
But just as I think of him, my father appears in the library doorway. His eyes land on me, and I can tell by the shadow on his face that he has something to say. Without a word, he nods to the library door before slipping back through the opening.
I drop my bag at the foot of the stairs and slump my shoulders.
Just when I think life has thrown everything at me, here comes another wave to knock me sideways.
When I enter the library, my father has his back to me. He’s leaning on his wide, hardwood desk, with his white-haired head bowed to his chest.
“Close the door.”
I bite my lip and do as he says. I’m almost afraid to breathe.
My father is warm and friendly. He’s a hugger. He’s the one person that I can count on to brighten my darkest days.
But now?
Something’s wrong.
He reaches over his desk to grab a yellow legal envelope. Turning to face me, he extends it in my direction. With a trembling hand, I grab the envelope and read my name on the front of it.
The return address is The Juilliard School of Music in New York. I’d applied to their voice program months ago before flying up on a weekend to do an audition. I’d told my parents that I was visiting one of my cousins. I never heard back. I assumed I hadn’t gotten in.
My father nods to the envelope, and I tear open the top. My hands tremble and my vision goes blurry as I read the first word: Congratulations.
I can’t read anything else. My eyes fill with tears and my heart starts racing. I’m lightheaded. I reach for one of the plush chairs in front of my father’s desk, sinking into it as I clutch the envelope.
“You applied to music school?” my father asks, sitting on the edge of his desk. His voice is neutral, and I don’t have the guts to look at his face.
I nod.
“Without telling us?”
“I knew you wouldn’t want me to go.” My voice breaks on the last word. I blink my tears away and pull the acceptance letter out of the envelope, forcing myself to read it in its entirety.
It’s everything I dreamed of. One sheet of paper, telling me I’m good enough to sing. Good enough to learn at one of the top schools. Good enough to pursue my passion.
“How do you know we wouldn’t want you to leave, Cara?”
“You barely let my sisters leave for holidays. After Luca dumped me, Mother wouldn’t even let me leave the house. You’ve had my future planned out for me since I was a little girl. Now, when Theo came here, the only thing that’s changed was who I’m supposed to marry.”
My father sighs, and I finally force myself to meet his gaze.
The lines on his face seem to have deepened since I last saw him. He runs his hand over his eyes. His rich, dark skin has been weathered by the water and wind and rain, and for the first time in a long time, I see his age.
My father is getting older.
He lifts his eyes to mine and lets out a sigh. “I would never stop you from living your dream, Cara. If this is what you want, you should do it. You should go to music school.”
My heart thumps. Did I just hear that right? He’s supportive? He wants me to pursue my dreams?
Tristan Shoal is legendary in Argyle for being a hard-headed, determined man. The type of person who wins Olympic gold medals and breaks world records. The type of person who goes down in history books.
He’s a hugger, sure. But he’s fierce as hell.
I didn’t think he’d be the type of man to let me chase my own dreams, especially not when they didn’t align with his.
But my father walks toward me, pulls me off the chair and wraps his arms around my body. He crushes me in a hug, and I think I hear him sniffle.
“I’m proud of you, Cara. You’ll make a wonderful singer.”
My head is spinning. I stare at the crumpled letter of acceptance in my hand that didn’t quite survive my father’s embrace.
This is what I’ve always wanted. It’s the reason I would sneak out of my house and go to the beach to sing. It’s the reason my heart nearly exploded when I met Prudence Halloway.
Singing means everything to me.
But I stare down at my stomach, and I’m not sure that’s still the case.
Three weeks ago? I’d already be gone. I’d take my acceptance letter, pack my bags, and say goodbye to my family. I’d be high on life and chasing my wildest dreams. I’d work my ass off to be the best damn singer Argyle had ever seen so I could be right there beside my father in the history books.
Now?
Things have changed. There’s a baby growing inside me.
How can I go to music school when I know I’ll be a mother in under nine months’ time? How can I say goodbye to Theo and choose music over him? Over the baby? Over the Kingdom?
“What’s wrong, Cara?” My father chucks my chin. “I thought you’d be happy.”
I wipe a tear away and shake my head. “I am happy. Just shocked.”
“You look tired. You should get some sleep.”
I lift the letter up. “Does Mother know?”
My father pinches his lips, shaking his head. “Not yet. I wanted to talk to you first.”
Relief washes over me. I nod, forcing a smile. “Okay. Thanks.”
“Hey,” my father says with a soft smile. “I always knew you’d do big things. Luca never deserved you.”
I give him a short nod and slip out of the library. Rushing up the stairs, I toss my bag on the floor of my bedroom and lock the door. Flopping down on my bed, I cover my face with my hands and groan.
Just when the choice seemed simple—be with Theo, if he’d have me—life throws me another curveball. I thought I knew what I wanted. I thought I was realizing how much the Prince of Argyle meant to me. The terror of being a mother was starting to fade, and excitement was mounting. I cou
ld see a future, bright and hopeful and full of love.
Now, I’m not so sure. With this letter, my dreams are still within reach.
I lift my shirt up to stare at my stomach, wishing I had ultrasound vision to see the little nugget of life growing inside me. I already love it. This baby already has my heart, and I know I’ll do my best to provide for it.
I don’t want to stifle my baby’s gifts like mine were stifled. I don’t want to prescribe a life for this child based on what I want for him or her.
Wouldn’t attending Juilliard be the perfect example of pursuing something you care about? Wouldn’t that set a good example for my child?
As soon as the thought crosses my mind, pain pierces through me and my eyes prickle with tears.
Leaving Argyle means leaving Theo.
I have to choose between my dreams, and the man that I’m falling in love with. The father of my child. The future King of Argyle. The only person that has made me feel valued and important.
Either way, I lose.
The only question is—what am I willing to sacrifice?
My dreams, or my love?
19
THEO
MY BEDROOM IS lonely without Cara. I’ve gotten used to her company over the past few weeks and being alone seems strange now.
The morning is bright as I wake up in an empty room. I sigh, glancing out the window, and then drag myself out of bed. I make my way down the stairs and out to the beach that hugs the royal grounds. My shoulder feels better than it did a few days ago, and the doctor seemed hopeful that it would heal quickly.
What did he say to Cara, I wonder? There’s something she isn’t telling me.
When I get to the edge of the beach, I kick off my shoes and let my toes sink into the sand. I inhale the salty sea air and close my eyes for a moment, listening to the sounds of the ocean.
This is my happy place. I love Argyle. I feel privileged to be its future King. I’ve spent most of my life thinking that would only happen when I was much older, and I’d have my life as my own.
But Father’s condition has worsened, and I need to step up.
After my trip with Cara, I’m starting to feel ready. I can lead this Kingdom. I can help turn around the economy and mend the international relationships that my father has allowed to wither away. I can try to bring prosperity back to the people of Argyle.
Over the past three weeks, I’ve started to imagine doing it with Cara by my side. Maybe even a couple of kids running at our feet. It’s something I didn’t even know I wanted, but now I feel like I can’t live without it.
As I walk toward the crashing waves, a seagull squawks above me. I look up at the bird, watching it land a few feet away from me. It cocks its head to the side, as if it wants to ask me a question.
“I don’t know, gull. Being the King of Argyle seems a lot easier when Cara is by my side, but I don’t know if that’s what she wants. She left pretty quickly yesterday.”
“Talking to birds now, Doctor Doolittle?” I turn to see my brother Dante walking on the sand toward me. He grins, his shaggy hair blowing in the breeze.
“Birds don’t talk back,” I grin.
My brother claps me on the back, and I wince at the pain that shoots through my shoulder.
“Sorry,” Dante cringes. “I got the final report back from the lawyers this morning. I have news.”
“Oh?”
“Turns out, the marriage clause for coronation might not actually be consistent with the laws of Argyle. Every lawyer I’ve spoken to has agreed. Having a spouse isn’t necessary to be crowned King or Queen, according to the law. It’s only part of the royal culture. Wouldn’t hurt you in a court of law—only in the court of public opinion.”
“Is there a difference?” I scoff, shaking my head. “Public opinion is more important than the law.”
“Maybe. But you have public opinion on your side. I’ve been tracking your three-week tour through the Kingdom, and all mentions of you on social media are trending towards the positive.”
“How did you do that?”
“I track all the mentions, hashtags, and keywords that come up with your name and variations, and then I run them through a data analysis software to categorize them as positive or negative,” Dante explains, letting his eyes drift out to sea. “Then, I crunch the data and get it to spit out overall trends of popularity for you, for Father, and for the government as a whole.”
“Of course you do. Nerd.”
Dante grins, swinging his gaze back to me. “Someone’s got to do it, and I know it’s not going to be you.”
“I’m hopeless with computers. That’s why I let you do it.”
“Clearly I got all the brains in the family.”
“If my shoulder wasn’t injured, I’d be punching you right now,” I grin.
Dante snorts before faking a few jabs at me. He drops his arms and lets his lips drift into a smile, nodding at me. “Theo, this is good news. The people love you, and the law doesn’t say anything about a spouse. You don’t have to marry Cara. You can become King without her.”
My smile fades as bitterness coats my throat.
That’s supposed to be good news? It doesn’t feel good at all.
The past three weeks have been the happiest weeks I’ve had in a long time. I’ve let myself imagine what it would be like to have Cara by my side. I’ve lived in a fantasy-land where everything turns out okay.
But the truth?
The truth is, she doesn’t want me. She was only playing along to help me out. If she wanted to stay with me, she wouldn’t have left yesterday. She’d have stayed by my side.
“You okay, Theo?” Dante pulls me from my thoughts.
The words are on the tip of my tongue. I want to tell him about these feelings swelling inside me. The fantasy of being with Cara, of living happily ever after.
But I don’t know what Cara wants. I don’t know if she feels the same way.
I know she enjoyed herself these three weeks. I know she feels happy when she’s with me, and that her smile widened and her face brightened over the course of our trip. I know she enjoyed singing with Prudence, and she started thinking of Argyle as a home, and not as a prison.
Is it enough, though?
She’d be giving up her dreams to be with me. She won’t have freedom if she becomes Queen. She’ll be chained to the duty of being a ruler.
I’m ready for that. I’ve been preparing my entire life for it. But asking someone else to give up their dreams for the sake of duty… It might be too much.
“Theo?” Dante arches his eyebrows, staring at me.
I shake my head, exhaling. “I’m fine. Just a lot to think about.”
“You like her, don’t you?”
“Who?”
“Don’t ‘who’ me, Theo. You know who. Cara Shoal. The woman you just spent every waking moment with for the past three and a half weeks.”
“Oh. Cara.”
“Yes, Cara. The social media analysis didn’t just talk about you, you know. Her name was trending in Argyle this week. You two caused quite a splash.”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“Well, looks like your fake relationship was a little too convincing. There are dozens of blogs and videos dissecting every public interaction you’ve had with her. People are starting rumors that she’ll be the future Queen.”
My eyes widen. “They are?”
“You need to deal with this, Theo. You can’t keep pretending. Father needs to step down, and you need to take the throne whether it’s with Cara or without.”
“Did your data analysis tell you to say that to me?”
“More or less,” Dante grins.
Another seagull squawks above us and comes to land next to the first one. I stare at the two birds and let out a deep sigh.
“What do you guys think?” I ask, then pause for a few seconds. Turning to Dante, I pinch my lips. “They don’t know what to do either.”
Dante snor
ts, shaking his head. “Have you told her?”
“Who?”
“Fuck, Theo. Stop playing dumb. You know who. Cara! Have you told her how you feel about her? Have you expressed the feelings that are currently causing you to talk to birds? Have you explained to her that you don’t want this to end between you two?”
My heart squeezes painfully. Of course I haven’t told her. Last time I saw her, I was telling her good luck and goodbye, and watching her drive away.
How am I supposed to turn around and tell her I love her?
I shake my head. “I haven’t told her anything.”
“You should.”
“Are you the future King, or am I?” I snap. “When did you become so wise? Did you create a data analysis program for giving advice, too?”
Dante chuckles and puts his hand on my shoulder again. He shakes his head. “I’m not wise, Theo. You’re just being unbelievably stupid.”
20
CARA
I’VE BEEN STARING at my acceptance letter for hours. I barely slept last night. What sleep I did get was punctuated by nightmares.
I stare at the letter. The rest of the envelope contains information about the school and a few pamphlets about the voice program.
As the hours tick by, my decision doesn’t become any clearer.
A soft knock on the door makes me lift my head from the paperwork strewn around me.
“Come in!”
Cathy, my eldest sister, walks in. She lifts a cup of coffee and a muffin. “Breakfast.”
“Thanks,” I smile, shifting to sit up in bed.
Cathy closes the door behind her and gives me a hesitant smile. “I heard about the letter.”
“Father told you?”
She nods. “Congratulations. I always knew you’d do big things.”
“I’m pregnant.” I blurt out the words without thinking, then watch as my sister’s eyes grow wide with shock.
“You’re what?”
“It’s Prince Theo’s.”
“Holy fuck, Cara.”
I wince. Things must be bad when Cathy is swearing. I think I’ve heard her say bad words two or three times in my entire life.
She sits on the edge of the bed, placing the coffee and muffin on my bedside table. One of the Juilliard pamphlets crumples beneath her, but neither of us tries to move it. The silence in the room is oppressive. Cathy stares at a spot on the floor, her hands gripping her knees.
Wrong Prince: An Accidental Pregnancy Romance (Royally Unexpected Book 6) Page 12