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 progr
essing, 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.
Father lets out a heavy sigh. “I loved your mother. She meant the world to me.” He gulps, staring off at something over my shoulder. “Even though she hurt me, having her by my side was a gift. She gave me you and your brothers.”
My father’s eyes flick back to mine, shining with unshed tears.
A lump forms in my throat. That’s the most emotion the King has shown since my mother walked out. It’s the most fatherly thing he’s said to me in many years—maybe ever.
“Are you sure you want to do this alone?” he asks softly.
“Become King?”
My father nods. “It’s a heavy burden to bear.”
I suck a breath in through my teeth, not quite knowing how to answer.
The truth?
Absolutely not. I want to jump on an airplane and drag Cara back to me. I want to watch her walk down the aisle toward me with a glowing smile on her face and then promise to spend my life with her. I want to have her by my side, supporting me. Being my Queen. Carrying my future children. Making my life complete.
But those are things that I want. Bringing Cara back is asking her to sacrifice everything she’s ever dreamed of. It’s asking her to change her life plans to be with me, when five weeks ago, she didn’t even think she’d speak to me again. It’s asking her to hurt Luca. Even though he pushed her away and made her suffer, I know Cara would hate to cause him more pain.
As much as I want Cara beside me, I can’t ask that much of her. I can’t ask her to give everything up to be with me. I can’t make her change her dreams just to support me in mine.
What’s that thing people say? If you love someone, you have to let them go.
I never knew what that meant until now. I love Cara. In the depths of my heart, past all the jagged edges and broken pieces, there’s a warm spot carved out for her. I love her fully, completely, and eternally.
And that’s exactly why I can’t ask her to marry me.
My eyes flick back to my father. I nod. “I want to do it alone.”
Heaving himself off the armchair, my father hobbles toward me and pats my shoulder. “You’ll be a good king, Theo. Time to make you one.”
THE DAYS DRAG ON. The next two weeks are spent in preparation for my coronation. It’s announced to the Kingdom, and the mood in the streets is jubilant. Dante and Beckett congratulate me, and my father seems to relax.
I made the right decision. Wearing the crown is what I was born to do.
Loving Cara doesn’t change that. Being King is a lonely life sentence, and I’ve known that since I was a child.
When my sling comes off, the doctor checks me over and nods in approval. “Good. You’ll need regular physical therapy, but there doesn’t seem to be any permanent damage. Your range of motion will be limited for now. Try not to do any heavy lifting. We can start your physical therapy tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Doc.”
“How’s your lady-friend doing? I thought I’d be seeing her again.”
I frown. “You did? Is she okay?”
The doctor’s eyebrows twitch ever so slightly upward. He clears his throat before nodding. “She should be fine, Your Highness. Excuse me.” He bows and retreats out of the room.
A wave of nausea rises up inside me as fear rattles my chest.
Is there something Cara isn’t telling me? Why would the doctor think he’d be seeing her again?
Before I can spiral into my own thoughts, Dante appears in the doorway. My brother smiles at me, nodding to my shoulder.
“All fixed?”
“More or less.”
“Fixed enough to wear a ceremonial uniform and get a crown placed on your head?”
I grin, nodding. “I’ll manage.”
He has a tablet tucked under his arm and turns the screen toward me. “Here’s the security plan for the coronation. I’ve updated the software for the security cameras and had the chief of security put extra staff on. As you know, you’ll have to appear at the palace balcony. We’re expecting a couple thousand people to show up.”
“I’m not afraid of the public, Dante. I’ve been walking among them for years.”
My brother looks at me, frowning. “Theo, you’re going to be the King of Argyle. Everything is going to be different.” He holds my gaze for a few seconds, and then places the tablet on my desk. “Have a look through the plan and let me know if you want me to change anything.”
I nod, unable to speak. His words hit me like a slap across the face.
Everything will be different.
Everything.
I’m no longer Theo, Prince of Argyle. I’m no longer free to go on solstice sailboat trips around the islands. I’m no longer able to take Cara to hidden villas and visit old soul singers. I’m about to be a king with no queen. A man at the helm of this kingdom with no one to rely on except myself.
As my brother walks out of my room, I let out a heavy sigh.
I love her, and I let her go.
That was my first act as King of Argyle. My first selfless decision. The first truly good thing I’ve done, and the beginning of a long, difficult lifetime as the ruler of Argyle.
24
CARA
NEW YORK IS MUGGY. I miss the fresh, clean air of Argyle, and the soft sea breeze that sweeps over the entire Kingdom. Instead, my days are filled with smells of smog, car exhaust, and warm garbage.
It’s been two weeks since I arrived. Two weeks since I mailed the letter. Two weeks since I made the decision to leave Theo behind.
My semester at Juilliard doesn’t start for another three weeks, at the beginning of September, but I’ve enrolled in a prep class to get myself up to speed. I’ve taken very few voice lessons in my life, so I figured having a couple of weeks of
formal training before the official start of the semester would calm my nerves. My teacher is a stern, black-haired woman in her fifties. She has a sharp nose and thin lips, and always makes me feel like I’m doing something wrong.
By the end of my first week, I’m dreading my lessons and wondering if this is what I really want. There’s no joy in singing here. No soul. It’s cold and technical, without the love and warmth that I expect from music.
After a grueling hour with Miss Dorothea, I trudge through the busy streets and make my way back to the apartment that my father arranged for me.
It’s small. When I look out the window, all I see is another brick facade.
I miss the ocean. It’s pathetic how homesick I feel. Slumping down on my sofa, I lean back and wonder for the millionth time if this was all a mistake.
Then my phone dings, and I see an unfamiliar number on the screen.
Unknown number: Hi Cara, it’s Jordan. We met at Miss Dorothea’s studio. I was wondering if you were free tonight? My friend’s band is playing at a bar and I’ve got no one to go with.
I stare at the message, reading it and re-reading it. Is that…a date? I remember Jordan. We met on my first day and I’ve seen him a couple of times since. He’s got long, dark hair that falls to his shoulders. Most days, he wears it in a low bun. He’s handsome, in an artsy sort of way. Like a tortured singer who loves nothing more than to make you melt with his voice.
He wants to go out with me?
It feels wrong. I don’t want to go out with Jordan, no matter how angelic his voice is.
But as I listen to the honking cars outside and inhale another lungful of stale air, I know I need to get out. The only way I’ll survive in this city is if I make friends and shake off this homesickness.
I type out a quick answer and then jump in the shower to get ready. My stomach twists into knots, and my thoughts fly to Theo.
I don’t want to go out with another man, but I do want to get out of this tiny shoebox apartment. Maybe I can just be clear with Jordan that I only want to be friends. I can go out, listen to music, and forget about the oppressive sadness that clings to my every pore.
Wrong Prince: An Accidental Pregnancy Romance (Royally Unexpected Book 6) Page 14