Prince

by Cambria Hebert

  As I stepped out from inside the golden glow of the hotel, night enveloped me, and cold wind blew down the sidewalk. It wasn’t quite winter here in the city, but the weather didn’t seem to care. As soon as the sun sank behind the city, the temperatures dropped and the wind turned biting.

  Tucking deeper into my coat, I grimaced at the way the cold seeped through my shoes, nipping at my toes. I was going to have to buy a pair of boots, something I’d never had the money to do before. I’d do it one day when E was at work because if he knew I wanted boots, he’d insist on taking me shopping, and I’d end up with a pair that cost more than I made off this entire job.

  Just like the wardrobe he’d bought along with my coat.

  At first, I refused the extremely pricey items, having only agreed to a coat. So he relented and took me to Sak’s Fifth Avenue like it was some kind of compromise. And of course, a lot of my new clothes were from Reflection, Ivory’s label. I couldn’t possibly say no to anything that would support my sister.

  Oddly, I didn’t feel guilty for the things he’d bought. Maybe I should have. But he looked so happy giving them, and his eyes lit up every time I got dressed. I didn’t see dollar signs when I looked at them. All I saw was love… All I felt was him caring about keeping me warm and comfortable.

  And honestly, I liked the clothes. They fit. I even had a shirt with Spider-Man on it.

  My nose numbed as I walked, the violin case slapping lightly against my leg. Sounds of the city echoed between the buildings, steam rose from street grates, and the scent of food stalls on the sidewalks competed in the air.

  My stomach rumbled again, but I ignored it, wanting to wait to eat with Ethan.

  An odd tingling sensation crawled up the back of my neck. Hairs standing on end, I shivered, reaching up to tug the coat closer around my neck.

  A few more steps and the odd feeling still lingered, making me glance over my shoulder. The man walking a few paces behind me glanced up but then back down at his phone. Cabs whizzed by, a car with squeaky brakes. Nothing seemed out of place, but I couldn’t shake the feeling.

  The feeling of being watched.

  The ominous notion followed, making me glance around warily every few yards but never seeing anything amiss. The sky seemed to grow darker, the city colder, and I let out a sigh when the Abbott Group building came into view.

  Just before heading inside, I stopped and rotated, giving one last glance, eyes lingering on the shadowed intersection down the block.

  Nothing.

  My breath puffed out in a white cloud as I turned my back on it all to head inside. The second the warm, lit-up foyer closed around me, the muscles of my neck relaxed a bit, and I stepped into a waiting elevator to head up to Ethan’s floor.

  Just as the elevator doors began to close, a familiar shadow of black seemed to appear. I pushed off the wall, rushing forward, eyes trained through the shrinking opening. Something sinister squirmed inside me. The golden doors shut, blocking off whatever it was I thought I saw. Collapsing against the wall, I trembled with anxiety, mind churning with uneasy thoughts.

  It couldn’t have been.

  No way.

  You’re just tired and nervous for tomorrow night.

  It definitely wasn’t her.

  “It couldn’t have been,” I muttered to myself. “This isn’t her world.”

  It’s not yours either.

  I felt the color drain out of my face. The efforts I made to calm myself were clearly not working. The elevator dinged open, and I all but ran out, nearly tripping in my haste.

  A few people looked up, but I rushed by without care. Bree’s desk came into view, and when she looked up, I tried to smile.

  “Hey, Fletcher,” she said warmly. She was always that way with me. She never seemed to care that I wasn’t rich like the rest of them.

  Normally, I would have stopped to talk or even ask if Ethan was busy. But not tonight. Tonight, all I could think about was laying eyes on him, running right into his arms.

  “Oh, Fletch—” Bree’s voice seemed so distant behind me. So unimportant that I didn’t even pause.

  Grasping the handle like a lifeline, throwing the door open wide, I rushed inside. “Ethan—”

  Shocked faces turned toward my haste, and I stood there shaking, realizing Ethan was not alone.

  38

  Ethan

  * * *

  I managed to avoid my father for a few days. I put him off by finally answering one of his many calls to assure him I was fine and my absence from work that day was due to a horrible migraine.

  I didn’t use the migraine card, well, ever with him. Because honestly, I knew he saw my “headaches” as a weakness. And honestly, I considered them a weakness too, even if my specialist declared they absolutely were not. I usually didn’t discuss them with anyone besides Bree, who basically had to know about them in case something came up.

  It wasn’t a complete lie. I did have a heinous migraine the day I missed work. That just wasn’t the reason I didn’t come in.

  I kept the call short, claiming I had a mountain of work and several conference calls, which was true. I was extremely busy with the ball tomorrow night, making sure my work was done and spending as much time with Fletcher as I could. It was selfish, but I wanted a little more time with him. I was ready to tell my parents. I was ready to do whatever I had to do to make sure Fletcher knew he was most important.

  It was still worrisome. After his reaction to Sienna, I was sincerely concerned that any less than a positive reaction from my parents would send him spiraling again. I wanted more than anything to give him something stable.

  But deep down, I knew I couldn’t do that if we built what we had on a rocky foundation. And that meant drawing lines, not just in his world but in mine.

  Even knowing this, I still stalled, hoping we could get through the ball and Fletcher’s performance without anything else causing undue stress. But when my office door sprang open with my father filling the frame, I knew we wouldn’t make it.

  I could no longer look at my father in the eye and pretend. Actually, I could. I just wouldn’t.

  “I’m going to have to call you back,” I said into the phone, leaning forward to hit a button, instantly disconnecting the call. My eyes flicked up to my father. “I was in the middle of a business call.”

  “Well, apparently, barging into your office is the only way we can get your attention these days,” he intoned.

  Surprise drew me up when my mother stepped in, her blond head only reaching that of my father’s shoulder.

  “Mom,” I called, moving from behind my desk to greet her. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

  Elizabeth Abbott never came to the office unless she had to show up for some work or charity event. She’d only been in my office maybe a handful of times.

  “I’ve been worried sick, Ethan. You haven’t come by or called, so I came to you.” Her blond hair was down around her shoulders, and a thick nude-colored headband with pearls and a generous knot at the top adorned her head. Her eyes were green, my blue ones having come from my father. Her cheekbones were high, her nose narrow, and the makeup she wore accentuated her flawless skin. She was on the taller side, probably around five feet seven, with willowy limbs and a graceful walk.

  Her pantsuit was cream-colored, tailored perfectly, and overtop she wore a camel-colored long coat with fur around the collar and breast. She was very obviously a beauty. Her kind but not-gullible reputation in the Upper East Side preceded her.

  She and my father made a striking match, and their personalities complimented each other well. When I was a child, I often thought of them as good cop-bad cop, my father being the “bad” and she the “good.” Even still, mother was very much an Upper East Side elitist, and people knew she was no one to tangle with.

  “I’m sorry for making you worry, Mom,” I said, leaning down to kiss both her cheeks. “Have a seat.” I offered, leading her to the sofa.

  “Bree?” I ca
lled, and my assistant appeared instantly as if she’d been hovering nervously in the doorway.

  “Yes, Mr. Abbott?”

  “Could you get us some tea please? And also, please send Chancellor a gift as an apology for the abrupt end to our call.”

  “Tea isn’t necessary,” Mother said, turning to glance at Bree. “But thank you, dear.”

  My brows furrowed. “Are you sure?”

  “We’re here to see you, not drink tea.” Father spoke gruffly, sitting next to my mother.

  I nodded at Bree. “Just the gift for Chancellor, then.”

  She nodded and left, closing the door behind her.

  “So what brings you all the way here?” I asked, sitting in a chair close to the sofa.

  Father made a rude sound. “As If you don’t know. You won’t answer my calls, you’re always in a meeting, and I draw the line at making an appointment just to see my son!”

  “I just spoke with you a few days ago.” I pointed out.

  “To tell me you were too busy to talk.”

  “Your father said you had a migraine that caused you to miss an entire day of work. Why didn’t you call me? I would have come. I would have brought the doctor.”

  “I didn’t want to worry you, Mom. And I’m fine. I took medicine and slept it off.”

  “Well, you do look healthy,” she mused, her shrewd eyes roaming every detail of my face. “Actually, there is something a little different about you,” she added. “You’re glowing.” She turned toward my father. “He’s glowing. Don’t you think so, Adrian?”

  “Chandeliers glow, Lizzie, not men,” he quipped in his usual gruff manner, but his tone was softer, and the use of the nickname only he was permitted to use totally negated any of his disagreement.

  “It’s the tie,” I said, slightly amused. “Glitter,” I explained further, gesturing toward the shimmering necktie around my neck. It was a navy-blue custom-made piece that caught the light and reflected like crushed diamonds. I’d paired it with a brown suit and a light-blue dress shirt.

  “Hmm,” mother hummed, not agreeing or disagreeing.

  “Now, about you avoiding us…” Father cut right to the point.

  “I told you. I’ve been busy.”

  “And I told you that this week was not a week for that. Sienna says you haven’t answered any of her calls either. What kind of behavior is that? How do you expect to win her favor when you ignore her this way?”

  “I don’t want her favor,” I said, keeping my voice even. “Something I told you more than once. Something I told you before you flew her across the country.”

  “Now just one minute! We agreed that you would court her, that—”

  A frustrated sound burst from my chest, and I shoved up, pacing to the other side of the room. “No! You agreed. You pushed and needled and insisted, and I just didn’t put up a big fight. And that’s on me.”

  “What do you mean?” Mom asked, her eyes following my movements.

  “All my life, I’ve been the dutiful son. The trophy on your mantel. I’ve always done what’s expected of me, never made a fuss when you asked for something. I wanted to be the son you could be proud of, but that’s not all I want anymore. I don’t want to be who you want. I want to be who I am.”

  “I don’t understand,” she reiterated, dividing her gaze between me and my father.

  I sighed. “I know it’s hard to understand something that is likely out of your norm.”

  “Son, did Sienna do something? Did something happen between you the other night?” My father pressed.

  Behind my eyes hurt, and I pinched the bridge of my nose, letting out an insufferable sigh. “This has nothing to do with Sienna!” I burst out. “I’m not interested in her. I never will be, and I told her that. So if she’s acting like she’s surprised I haven’t answered her calls, then it’s just her ego taking a hit.”

  My parents gasped. “You told her you weren’t interested? Why on earth would you do that? You know who her father is. You know her family name,” Father hollered.

  “I don’t care!” I exclaimed. “Why does everything have to be about money and names, reputation and status? Aren’t you exhausted? Don’t you ever just want something because it makes you happy?”

  “Ethan,” Mom intoned, her voice surprised but also holding a note of sadness.

  “I’m sorry to do this now. Here. I was hoping to put it off until after the ball, but here you are… and here I am.”

  “You’re tired. Perhaps the UK deal, the ball, and everything else has been too much at once.” My father excused my behavior. “Once everything is in order, you will feel more composed. You can rest—”

  “I’m not tired, Dad.” I cut him off. “I’m gay.”

  The silence that followed was deafening. So absolute that it was almost eerie. Even the pounding of my heart didn’t ring in my head. The declaration lay between us like a thick layer of snow that had fallen upon the city.

  I watched their faces go from blank to confusion until their eyes lit with some sort of realization.

  “W-what did you say?” My mother spoke first, her words breathless.

  “I’m gay. I don’t like women. I prefer men.”

  My father shot to his feet. “That’s impossible!”

  “Why?”

  The question caught him off guard. Flustered, he turned to my mother as if she might have an answer.

  “What about Ivory?” Mom asked, voice neutral.

  “Ivory was a choice that you made. You and her father matched us before we were barely out of diapers. We went along with it because it was easy. And because, for me, going along with it was easier than telling you that the son you loved to brag about was gay.”

  My father went to the drink cart, pouring himself a scotch.

  “But Ivory found true love, and in a sense, her discovery set me free.”

  “Free?” Mom echoed. She was far more composed than my father. And much less shocked. Vaguely, in the back of my mind, I wondered why.

  I nodded. “I didn’t have to be her prince.” I was able to be someone else’s. “I saw how happy following her heart made her.”

  “No,” Father said, the liquid in the bottom of his glass sloshing. “Ivory chose another man, a man of much lower breeding, and it upset you. Rightfully so. And the shock of that made you question everything, and now you have this silly notion that you’re… you are…”

  “Gay,” I supplied. “And rejection didn’t make me gay, Father. Furthermore, I can’t be rejected by someone I never really had. I’ve known this part of myself for a very long time. I just kept it private, at first out of respect to myself but then out of respect to you.”

  “You didn’t tell us out of respect?” My mother’s hand went to her throat, fingertips fluttering there like butterfly wings.

  “I saw no reason to create scandal and upset you. But I can’t do that anymore.”

  “Why?” Father asked, downing the last of the liquor.

  So he would prefer me to just be someone I’m not to avoid scandal?

  “Because I met someone. Someone I love very much.”

  Mother made a soft sound.

  Father’s glass made a sharp clicking sound when he set it down. “A man.”

  “Yes.” Clearing my throat, I went on. “So I would appreciate it if you would stop trying to create business deals based on my relationships. In fact, don’t try to set me up at all. I’m not available. I won’t ever be, and I will not have the person I love hurt by these charades.” He’s already been hurt enough.

  Silenced enveloped the room once more, and it gave me a chance to take stock of myself. For all the time I spent worrying about this moment, of thinking how my life could be split in two, I was calm.

  Suddenly, I wasn’t worried about their reaction, their raised voices, or even their judgment. I didn’t care. I am sure.

  Sure of my feelings. Sure of my heart. Sure in my resolve to ensure Fletcher knew where he stood in my life.


  “I quite understand that this is probably a shock. I also understand that you are probably embarrassed. If you want to sever ties with me, I will understand. I know you have your reputations to uphold.”

  Distraught, my mother surged up from the sofa. The clutch she’d been carrying fell from her lap onto the floor. Leaving it, she rushed across the room, reaching out to grab my hands. “Ethan, is that what you think?” She worried. “You think that your father and I would disavow you to save face?”

  “Yes,” I said boldly. “That is what I think.”

  Tears rushed to her eyes, and she fell against my chest, wrapping her arms around me. She was almost the same height as Fletcher, but hugging her felt entirely different.

  “Oh, my son! What a terrible mother I’ve been. Raising you to believe I cared about our stature more than you.” Sniffling, she pulled back. Even though she cried, her makeup wasn’t smudged at all. Lifting her teary eyes, she cupped my jaw with her hand. “I don’t care if you’re gay, Ethan. I’m so sorry you thought I would. You’re my son, and I love you.”

  Surprise pinched my heart, creating a stinging sensation throughout my entire chest. The emotion I thought I didn’t feel came rushing over me, threatening to push me under. She is accepting me.

  Blinking, I focused on my mother. “You don’t care?”

  “Great gods, no! I only want you to be happy. Besides, there are lots of gay people nowadays. Our new neighbors in the Hamptons are a gay couple who moved in from California. They wear matching sweaters.”

  I didn’t know what to say. How to react.

  “Do you wear matching sweaters with your mister?”

  I blinked. My mister? “Shoes,” I muttered automatically, then jolted in surprise.

  Mom laughed, hugging me again. I stood there completely still, trying to comprehend this conversation. My mother acted like being gay was trendy.

  “Mom,” I said, finally getting my wits about myself. Pulling her back, I held her at arm’s length to regard her seriously. “This is not a phase. Being gay is not a phase. Do you understand that?”

  “I’m rich, not stupid.”