by Krista Lakes
“When you say things like that, you sound more like a commoner than you do royalty,” she said. “You're brash and unrefined. Not fit to be a prince.”
Marco refused to fall into her trap. She was baiting him, trying to turn the tables. He wouldn't fall for it.
“I, for one, happen to enjoy the presence of commoners. They have this really amazing ability that you seem to have never learned. They know how to smile,” he said, smirking at his own comment. “So I take your comment as a compliment. Thank you, stepmother.”
“I'm done with this conversation,” she said, obviously annoyed by her stepson. “I've things to do. This country isn't going to run itself. You've already wasted enough of my time.”
Marco smirked, knowing that the only reason Magdalena was getting off of the phone was because she had run out of rude things to say to him. He'd won the argument, at least for the time being. It was a small feat, but a rare one, especially with Magdalena.
“Give my father my best,” he said. “And tell him that I'll be coming home early. I'll see him in a few weeks.”
“Good day, Marco,” Magdalena said, before hanging up the phone.
Marco tossed his cell onto the bed and collapsed onto the brown leather chair in the corner of the bedroom. He ran his fingers through his hair, pulling it back over the top of his head. He was shocked by the conversation he had just had with his stepmother, but happy he had at least gotten some information out of her.
His head hurt, his belly ached and he was already anxious over his father's health. Then Magdalena had to go and drop the news of a celebratory ball, making the situation even more stressful than it already was. His heart ached with worry. King Carlo would be having surgery in just four weeks and Magdalena was playing gatekeeper, making it so that he couldn't even speak with him. He suddenly felt a deep regret about deciding to go on this vacation in the first place.
If I had stayed home, then I'd be on Orsino right now, he thought. Magdalena wouldn't have this kind of control and there sure as hell wouldn't be some stupid ball being held in my father's honor.
Marco continued to kick himself for leaving the island, but the self-punishment was really just a distraction. The truth was that he was simply scared for his dad. Surgery to remove the tumor was said to be the best option, but that didn't mean it was a definite cure. Lung cancer had a horrible prognosis, as Marco had found out through his research on the Internet.
A wave of dizziness washed over him and he sat back down on the lounge chair, fearing that he might pass out. Tears welled in his eyes, but he choked them back.
What am I supposed to do? Marco thought.
He needed to talk to someone, but his father was the one who he usually leaned on in times of stress. And of course, that was also the one person that Magdalena had cut him off from. He feared that if he didn't get this off of his chest he would explode. He'd be a total mess for the remainder of the vacation and everybody that worked for him would end up as miserable as he was.
For some reason, and he wasn't sure why, Sabrina flashed into his mind. The image of her pretty face temporarily eased the torment that was going on inside of him. For a moment, he thought about confiding in her about his feelings.
I shouldn't, though, he thought. I didn't hire her to be a therapist. It isn't fair to her.
He got up and walked straight to the shower. While the water heated, he stripped naked and stood in front of the mirror. His dream vacation had just turned from a three-month extravaganza into a four week trip.
He thought of simply returning home tomorrow, but he knew his father wouldn't want that. His father had said as much during their last conversation. Besides, there was nothing for him to do at the palace but fight with Magdalena and worry.
His father wanted him to stay. Marco sighed and ran his hands through his hair again. He wanted to enjoy himself, but he knew it would be difficult. Without anyone to talk to about his troubles, he'd be forced to shove them deep down inside.
It's better that way, though, he thought. It's better for me to bear these burdens on my own. I'd rather do that, than risk infecting everyone else with my problems.
Chapter 8
Sabrina
The morning sun pierced Sabrina's eyelids, sending an electric shock of pain all the way to the back of her skull. Her mouth was as dry as a cotton ball and her throat felt scratchy. She ran her tongue against the roof of her mouth, but even that didn't help to ease the dryness.
Oh, my God. What happened last night? She thought, as she hesitantly opened her eyes.
The sun, though it was barely coming in between the drapes of her hotel room, felt so bright that she had to look away. Slowly, she sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, making sure her back was toward the window. When she glanced down, she noticed that she was still wearing the same outfit that she had had on during the baseball game the night before.
“The game,” she whispered, her words sounding hoarse. “What happened?”
She hardly remembered anything after the third cocktail. The last thing she remembered was being at the game, watching Marco attempt to sing the national anthem. After that, the evening was just a colorful blur with a handful of snapshots. One of which was a brief memory of Marco leading her out of the stadium.
But then what? How did I end up back here? She thought.
Sabrina got up from the bed and stood there for a moment, waiting to take a step until the woozy feeling passed. Once the room stopped moving, she walked over to the sink and filled a glass with water. The first sip didn't even make it to her throat, because it was absorbed by her bone-dry mouth. She continued drinking, though, knowing that hydration was the only thing that could rescue her from the of hangover. As she drank, she racked her brain, trying to piece together the puzzle of her memory from the previous cocktail-filled evening.
Okay, we obviously left the stadium. I remember that. But was it at the end of the game or did we leave early? God, I hope we didn't have to leave because I was too drunk. Then we came back to the hotel, of course, because I'm here. But why can't I remember anything between the stadium and here? She bombarded herself with questions, trying to put it all into place.
Suddenly, another snap shot memory flashed into her mind. She nearly dropped the glass into the sink but managed to save it.
“Oh, no,” she whispered, recalling what had happened between Marco and herself in the hallway outside of her room. “I tried to kiss him.”
Sabrina brought her hands up and ran her fingers through her hair as she paced the room. She remembered leaning in and Marco stopping her from kissing him. She remembered how he pressed his index finger into her lips to stop her and how he had said that it wasn't the right time.
Her face became hot and a wave of embarrassment filled her from head to toe. She was of course attracted to Marco, but never would she have consciously let herself try something so stupid.
“What if he fires me?” she said, still pacing frantically around the room. “I can't believe I did that. What in the hell was I thinking?”
Every possible worst-case scenario filled her mind. She feared she'd lose her job or that Marco would distance himself from her, making things between them awkward. She wanted to run over to his room and apologize, but then she also didn't want to bring it up.
What am I supposed to do? She thought. Maybe I'll just pretend I don't remember, and I won't even mention it. There's always the possibility that Marco won't recall what happened anyway. He was drunk too, right?
Sabrina slipped off her clothes, noticing a stain on the right leg of her jeans. She didn't remember spilling any of the orange concoction on herself, but then, she didn't remember much of anything from that night.
Once naked, she walked into the bathroom and took a quick shower. The heat and steam did a lot to ease the headache she had, and by the time she was finished, she felt substantially better. The shower did a lot, but it didn't help her cope with the embarrassment she had from try
ing to kiss Marco.
“I'll just pretend it didn't happen,” she said, matter-of-factly, stepping out of the shower. “That's the best option.”
After drying off, Sabrina got dressed. She had no idea what was on the itinerary for the day, but planned on doing the maid part of her job and cleaning Marco's hotel room for him. So she rummaged through her suitcase and pulled out a simple black t-shirt and some worn jeans, all clothes that she didn't care if she got dirty. After that, she slipped into her tennis shoes. Before walking out the door, she brushed her hair and pulled it back into a ponytail. One last look in the mirror revealed dark bags under her eyes from lack of sleep. She sighed and shrugged.
“Hopefully, I'll get some better sleep tonight,” she said, as she stepped out of her room and into the hallway.
She immediately took the three steps down the hall to Marco's door. After a few knocks, Marco opened the door. He was dressed in a white v-neck undershirt and white-washed jeans. His hair was still wet from a shower.
“Good morning. Please, come in,” he said, as he held the door open for Sabrina. “I just need to put on some socks and shoes, then we can go get breakfast.”
Sabrina followed him inside and took a seat on the chair next to his bed. She nearly told him that he could get breakfast and she would stay here and clean, like a good employee. But, she knew he would just insist on her coming with him anyway.
“How are you feeling?” Marco asked, as he dug through his suitcase for some socks.
“Better than I probably should be, given how drunk I was,” she said, as she rubbed her eyes with the back of her hands. “Those orange drinks went straight to my head last night. I'm surprised I'm not sick right now. I'm definitely tired and thirsty, but other than that I think I'm okay.”
Marco chuckled, as he pulled some black socks from his bag and took a seat on the edge of his bed. “Yes, those drinks were a little stronger than I thought.”
“I don't remember much about what happened,” Sabrina said, hoping and praying that he'd believe her and not bring up their almost-kiss.
He gazed at her, and his lips curled up into a smirk. “You don't remember anything?”
“I remember orange drinks and the national anthem and...” Sabrina paused, as if she were deep in thought. “That's about it, I think. Thanks for getting me home safely.”
“You're very welcome,” Marco said, his voice flat. “I hope you have an appetite this morning.”
Sabrina placed her hand over her stomach. She had a tinge of nausea, but food sounded like it might actually help with that.
“I could eat,” she said. “But I also have a lot to do. I need to get your room cleaned and your bed made.”
“Let's get breakfast and then you can take care of the chores,” Marco said. “And don't argue with me that breakfast isn't a part of your job.”
It was already almost ten in the morning and Sabrina felt like a total slacker for having done nothing productive up to that point, with the exception of taking a few sips of water and getting a shower. But if she were to make anything of the day, she knew that food would be required.
“Okay,” she said, with a sigh. “What are you hungry for?”
“There's a coffee shop right around the corner,” he said. “Why don't we go there?”
Sabrina nodded in agreement, but didn't say a word. It felt like Marco was being kind of short with her. He was acting more business-like than he had been the day before. She could sense that something was going on his him. He wasn't acting himself. He seemed quieter and less than excited about the upcoming day. It almost felt like he was distancing himself from her.
Maybe it's my imagination, though, she thought. Or maybe he remembers how his stupid maid tried to kiss him last night and he's pissed off about it.
He threw on his hat and sunglasses and walked quickly tot he elevator. As they rode down in silence, Sabrina went over everything in her mind. She started to think that maybe during breakfast she should bring up what happened, just to get it out in the open. She figured she could at least apologize for it and blame her actions on the alcohol. The thought of mentioning it made her stomach churn with anxiety, but it was starting to seem like the best option.
They got off the elevator and were greeted as they walked through the hotel lobby.
“Good morning!” the attendant behind the front desk said, waving her hand with way too much excitement. It made her hangover hurt.
Marco didn't say a word, though. He just kept walking.
“Morning,” Sabrina said, giving the attendant a nod.
What is going on with him? she asked herself, as the two stepped out of the hotel and into the sunlight.
They walked down the sidewalk and around the corner, where a cute little coffee shop was located. The inside of the shop was busy, but nobody was seated in the outdoor patio area.
“Marco, why don't you just wait out here and I'll go in and order,” she said. “This place is busy and I'd like to lessen the possibility of you getting recognized.”
“That will do just fine,” he said, taking a seat in a plastic chair on the patio.
He gazed off into space as he crossed his arms. Sabrina's stomach dropped, thinking she had ruined everything by her actions the previous night.
“What would you like from the shop?” she asked.
Marco focused on Sabrina just long enough to respond. “A large coffee, French pressed if they have it. No sugar, but two teaspoons of cream.”
“Okay,” she said. “What about food?”
“I'll have whatever you're having,” he replied, his arms still crossed.
Sabrina turned and stepped into the coffee shop. After standing in line for five minutes, she ordered two large coffees and two orders of beignets with extra powdered sugar on top. She carefully balanced the overloaded tray of food and went back outside to where Marco was seated.
“Okay, here's breakfast,” she said, placing the food onto the table.
She sat across from Marco and fidgeted quietly, while taking an occasional sip from her coffee. The mood between them was heavy and it weighed on her like a grand a piano, pressing down into her shoulders.
“Marco, is everything okay?” she asked, blurting out the question without much thought.
She needed to clear the air and figured talking about what happened would be the only way.
“Yes, things are fine,” he said, as he stirred his coffee.
“Are you sure? Because you're not acting like you usually do,” she said.
Marco sighed and leaned back into his chair. He readjusted the brim of his cap. “I know. I'm dreadfully sorry about that.”
“Look, Marco. I'm the one who should apologize. I'm sorry about last night,” Sabrina said. “I know you're probably mad about what happened and I just want you to know that it wasn't what I intended. I didn't mean to get that drunk and I didn't mean to try to-”
She wasn't able to finish her sentence before Marco interrupted her. “Last night? What? You have nothing be sorry for, Sabrina.”
“I just thought you were mad at me,” she said, looking down toward her plate of food. “I can tell you're upset about something and I assumed it was about me.”
Marco reached forward, taking Sabrina's hands in his. She looked back up, feeling the intensity of his stare. “You've got it all wrong. I mean you're correct about me being upset about something, but it has nothing to do with you. I promise.”
Sabrina felt a wave of relief.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked.
“I do appreciate the offer, but I'm afraid that what I'm dealing with is my own burden to bear,” he said, releasing her hands and picking up his coffee. “It's a family issue.”
Sabrina's eyes widened. “I'm happy to listen to whatever is going on. Even if there's nothing I can actually do to help the situation, sometimes it can feel good just to get things off of your chest.”
Marco took a bite of food and a little bit of pow
dered sugar managed to find its way to his chin.
“You have some sugar on your face,” Sabrina said, giggling. “It kind of looks like a white goatee.”
For the first time that morning, Marco smiled. He brought his napkin up and cleaned up his chin.
“Thanks for looking out for me,” he said.
“Any time,” Sabrina replied. “But seriously, Marco. I'm here if you need to chat. I can tell something is eating you up and I'd hate to see you struggling like this for your whole vacation.”
She wasn't sure if she was overstepping the lines again by offering to be a shoulder to cry on, but it was how she felt. She wanted to help him. This Marco, the one sitting across from her, the one with a forlorn and sad look on his face, was not the same Marco she had landed in New York with.
Marco sighed and slowly nodded. “I guess it might feel good to get it off of my chest.”
Sabrina didn't want to push the topic too hard, but she was eager to hear what was going on that had him so upset.
“I'm all ears,” she said.
Marco set his fork down and then drew in a long breath. “I received some news today and I'm not sure how I should feel about it.”
Sabrina leaned in, bringing her elbows to the table. She wanted to give Marco her undivided attention. “What kind of news?”
“I found out this morning that my father will be getting surgery next month,” he said.
“Oh, my gosh, Marco,” she said, reached out to touch his hands. “Tell me what's going on with him.”
“He has cancer,” he said simply.
“I'm sorry, Marco.” She didn't know what else to say.
“I appreciate that. But I've known about his cancer for a while now. He has a tumor in his lung. They discovered it a few months ago, but it wasn't until recently that the doctor's decided on the best plan for treatment. I found out this morning that he's a good candidate for surgery and so he's going to go through with it. It's a good thing in some ways, because it means he might not have to get chemo and radiation. But it also means he's having to go through an extremely invasive surgery. I'm worried about him.”