by Erin Hayes
Father grins proudly at me, and I can feel something like my heart swell in my chest. Finally, he puts his fork back to his meal again and brings up another bite to his mouth. "I'm glad that you're settling in. I have more business to attend to."
My blood chills in my veins. So I was right not to hurry off to do my math homework. "Where? How long?"
"Somalia," he says gravely. "For a few weeks. Not sure."
Somalia, where there's been a civil war for years now. I worry about my father, but I keep my thoughts to myself. Voicing them would mean that the universe could hear and turn its attention to my father. No, I'd rather not have that happen. I know that my superstitions will get me some day.
But not today.
Something tells me that the more my father puts himself in harm's way, the higher the likelihood that something will happen to him. And I think it would shatter me to my core.
I swallow back the lump in my throat, and I stay with my father as long as possible, math homework be damned. And when it's time to go to bed, I lie down in my bed and start crying. I don't sleep well that night, and when I'm back at school the next morning, my friends Elise and Aria notice my despondency.
"Are you okay, Alexandra?" Elise asks me at lunch.
I nod, even though I feel sick doing so. "Father's just away again."
"Aw." Aria reaches across the table and squeezes me hand. "It will be fine. I promise."
I hate that she says that, because she can't know. She can't promise that, and it becomes another lie in my life. I know she means well—but she and Elise don’t know the future.
I make sure to finish my food quickly and excuse myself from the table so I can finish my math homework before class. I take my notebook and my textbook, meaning to work through some algebra problems beneath a tree. Yet when I sit down to work at a bench all by myself, my eyes fill with so many tears, it makes it hard to see. Huge droplets fall onto my notebook and smudge the pencil marks that I've made.
I furiously wipe at my tears. This is going against what I've been trying to do—I didn't want to acknowledge the danger, and here I am crying.
"Alexandra?"
Ferdinand's voice.
I whip my head up and sniffle softly as I wipe at my eyes. I don't want him to see me crying like this. "I'm fine. I'm fine."
For a long moment, he doesn't move. I take a few calming breaths before I turn around and flash him my best smile.
"Sorry about that. Just a moment of weakness and my math homework is killing me."
A lie. Even though I am struggling with the equations at the moment.
He watches me for a moment, and then sits down next to me at the table. "Let me help."
I startle. A prince, helping me? "Oh, that's not necessary."
He gives me a sardonic look. "I've been through algebra before you, I can help."
And he picks up my pencil and starts working through my half-written homework, explaining what he's doing as he's doing it.
I sit with my hands in my lap, my back straight, watching him work, paying enough attention to the conversation to answer him when he asks a question. But, really, I like being this close to him, because it makes me feel like I'm not alone.
"...and when you take the square root of this number," he says, "you get C. Easy."
"Easy," I agree. "Right."
Except it doesn't feel easy. My heart is pounding, and I marvel at how weird and strange it is that I'm now suddenly worried about what he thinks of me. A moment ago, I was sobbing over my father going away.
Now? Now, I'm a wreck.
"Do you get it?"
Ferdinand's question interrupts my thoughts, and I look up at him. He's watching me as well.
And suddenly, I'm focused on his lips. His full, kissable lips. I'm fourteen years old, and I shouldn't be thinking about his lips like this.
Except I am.
"I think I do," I say, and then, because I'm nervous, I add, "Ferdie."
His eyes widen at his nickname that I've apparently given him. I've never heard anyone else call him Ferdie, and I know that as a prince, he could throw me in prison if I say something wrong. Including calling him that nickname. Right? I can't remember what real laws are right now.
I just can't believe that I did that.
Then those kissable lips quirk up into a smile, and he's grinning at me. "Well, you're the only one allowed to call me that. So long as I can call you Lex. All right, Lex?"
Lex? Hearing a nickname like that, I start laughing, because it sounds absurd. And before I know it, we're both laughing, throwing our heads back with it. It feels good to laugh, like I haven't done so in forever. And I realize that I haven't.
And then, before I can stop myself, I sit forward and put my lips on his, shocking both him and me.
I don't know what came over me. I wouldn't have done that in a million years, not if I had been thinking straight. The roller coaster of emotions that I've been on, I've lost my own mind.
It's also my first kiss. During lunch. At school. With a prince that I haven't really spoken to in two years. Since we moved from being tutored to being at school.
How much more mortifying can it get from me?
But then his hands come around and cup my cheeks, and he's kissing me back. Like he's wanted this too. His mouth parts and his tongue surprises me. I've heard of French kissing before, even tried practicing in the mirror.
But this is different. It makes me feel warm and gooey inside.
Finally our lips part, and I know that I'm blushing furiously as I shyly meet his eyes. He seems just as shocked as I am, but then he smiles.
"Lex," he whispers, using my new nickname.
A shuddering breath escapes my lips. "Ferdie," I say back, my voice barely there.
And then he leans forward and kisses me again.
I think about my first kiss with Ferdie when I'm back upstairs in my room. Apparently, getting this close to kissing him brings back those memories. As unpracticed as we were then, I imagine a kiss after fifteen years apart would be the same.
I'm not doing it. I'm not putting James through this.
And so I'm done.
I've had enough with my time in Tokyo. I've had enough trying to pretend like I'm healing. I've had enough trying to figure out my heart.
I grab my suitcase and set it down, open on the bed, and I throw my clothes into it, not even bothering to fold them up or put them in the bag in any sort of order.
"Apparently four days is enough time in Tokyo for me," I declare to myself in more of a mutter than anything else. And then I start laughing. A small laugh at first, but it builds and builds and builds until I'm somewhere between losing my mind and sobbing. Tears are streaming down my cheeks, and I sit down on the edge of the bed and put my hands on my cheeks, trying to piece together my feelings.
No, I'm just broken. Nothing's going to put me back together.
I ended my evening with Ferdinand because I was afraid of crossing that line and what it would do to James. He deserves better than this. He deserves better than me.
And maybe I shouldn't be with him, especially after seeing that I'm not healed.
I pick up my cell phone and dial Sachiko.
"Moshi moshi, Alexandra," Sachiko says brightly, her voice filling the speaker. "How has— "
"I'm heading back to America," I interrupt her, my voice breaking. "I'm so sorry. I just— "
"I understand."
Does she? I'm not sure if she fully does, because I don't understand myself.
Still, though, hearing her words, I smile despite myself. And I close my eyes.
"Thank you," I whisper. "Arigato."
Sachiko laughs. "You’ll make it to my wedding, right?"
Oh, right.
"I will try," I say honestly. Not a no. Because as one of my best friends, I can’t tell her no outright. “I just have to take care of a few things in America first before I can know.”
“Of course.” Sachiko doesn’t e
ven sound disappointed. “Do what you must. And I hope to see you at Zojoji.”
And as I hang up, I realize what it is that I need to do in America.
Probably the second hardest thing of my life.
And I don’t know if I’ll be able to even pretend to recover after this.
19
Ferdinand
I leave for Dubreva feeling more lost than I did coming to Tokyo. Everything is in a haze. I only go through the motions of my life. In fact, I’m so out of it, I hire a private pilot from Tokyo at an exorbitant price, because I’m not sure I can arrive with Eric’s private jet and myself in our respective whole pieces.
Yet I am able to land in Dubreva, despite my haze, and pulling up to the terminal has never felt this surreal. It's as though I'm having an out-of-body experience, and I can see myself sitting in the pilot's seat, yet I'm screaming at myself to do something different than go back home in defeat.
I manage to force myself to stand, to smile at Takeshi, my hired co-pilot, and get through the immigration process. Of course, for a prince, they push me through without trouble, and I shrug off the attendants that want to help one of their princes and grab my suitcase.
I honestly just want to be alone and start rebuilding the walls around my heart that I've spent fifteen years fortifying. It nearly killed me to do it the first time.
This time... I have no idea.
"Ferdinand!"
I've stepped out from security, and I wasn't expecting to hear my name just now. Especially like that. Perhaps a valet with a sign or some such, but not someone shouting my name and wildly waving my way with one hand.
I stop and frown, recognizing the source of the voice. "Mrs. Armen?"
She grins and gestures to the pan that she's holding. "Welcome home! I made your favorite."
I blink and look at the pan, seeing a brownie baked to perfection in her hands. I let out a shocked, stupefied chortle before making a beeline to her. I give her an awkward one-armed hug. "What are you doing here?"
She pulls back and gives me a stern look. "Why, welcoming you home, of course! You've been gone for a week, and while you may think that you're not missed, Hanover Palace has been dreary without you there."
I suck in a deep, trembling breath before giving her another hug, fiercer this time. "Thank you," I whisper. "Thank you for caring."
I didn't realize until now how much I wanted to be welcomed and remembered.
I may have messed things up with Lex, but I know that I have a home here in Dubreva. At least I know that I can always go home.
"You're always welcome to come home to us," Mrs. Armen whispers in my ear. She steps back. "Now, let's get home, because I do need to pick my son up from school in an hour. And if you make me late..."
I laugh despite myself. "I won't make you late."
Mrs. Armen's car is a far cry from the limousines that I usually travel around in. Hers is a beat-up Mercedes, a classic, but one that hasn't been maintained. Paint rusts on the hood, and there are dents along the side, but I know that she's damn proud of her vehicle. I've offered to purchase her another car throughout the years, but she refuses, telling me that this car used to be her father's, a good man that also served my family.
Without asking me, she takes my suitcase and pops it into the boot of the car. She smiles sardonically. "What?"
I shake my head. "Nothing."
I remember the floss she snuck into my bag, and the back of my throat closes up. Humbled by everything, I sit in the passenger's seat while Mrs. Armen takes the driver's seat and drives the ten kilometers home, talking my ear off the whole time.
Pulling up to Hanover Palace, I feel my heart rise in my throat at seeing my home. The overwhelming urge to go upstairs to my huge bedroom and sleep for a week comes over me, and I suddenly feel very, very tired.
I also feel a little bit of awkward hope. If Lex's and my relationship were in a movie, she would be inside, waiting for me, telling me that she made a horrible mistake and that she loves me and has always loved me.
And we would live happily ever after.
Yeah, right.
"Go on inside," Mrs. Armen tells me. She gives me a wink. "I'll take care of your suitcase. I'm sure you need to get your clothes laundered at the very least."
I start to protest, but she cuts me off. I'm also exhausted, so I give up quickly and head inside.
Like I'd been hoping, someone is there waiting for me.
Unfortunately, it's not Lex.
It's Henry. With my niece. He has pulled up a rocking chair in the foyer of the house, rocking her in his arms. How long has he been waiting here? And why?
And did Mrs. Armen know about this?
I pause in the doorway, and our eyes meet. He frowns before holding up a finger to his lips, telling me without words to be quiet. Then I see why.
Little Elizabeth is asleep.
Only an asshole would wake a sleeping infant. I hope he knows I would never do such a thing.
But still, I ask softly, "What are you doing here?"
He watches me for a long moment before answering. "I heard you were coming home today."
"Did Mrs. Armen tell you?"
He nods.
I sigh, feeling deflated. "Did you two conspire together? Is that how you're here?"
His eyes narrow. "It's my house, too," he points out. "Mother left me Hanover Palace. The only reason why you're living in it is because you came back to Dubreva before me." Up until he met Catherine, Henry had been living in Australia, a testament to our own rocky relationship.
"Is that what this is about?" I ask. "You want Hanover?"
His eyes flash angrily. "No, of course not."
"Then what?"
He looks down at Elizabeth, and his expression warms. I’m struck by just how much my brother looks like he’s completely happy. "I want my daughter to have a relationship with her uncle. You're the only family we have on this side.” He snickers softly. “Other than Eric and Phillip. But you’re my brother. You’re her uncle.” Our eyes meet. “You need to be there for her.”
There’s no suggestion in his voice. He’s telling me what I have to do to make things right.
I let out a breath, feeling my chest constrict. “May I…” I struggle for words, because I don’t feel worthy of what I’m about to ask. “May I hold her?” I raise my hands in front of me, visibly trembling.
Henry looks at me for another long moment before nodding. In one easy movement, he gets to his feet, still cradling his daughter. “You have to look less terrified, though.”
I chuckle despite myself and give my hands a shake. “I can do that.”
He deposits Elizabeth into my arms, and I’m awkwardly holding her, like I’ve never held an infant before. And as I hold her, that constriction in my chest...loosens. Despite my initial fears, I don’t feel this sense of betrayal to my own daughter. That fear of not being worthy melts away, and I’m just holding my niece.
She’s beautiful. I look at her tiny fingers again, the curl of her dark hair.
There’s still this feeling of what-if inside me. But it’s not tinged with sorrow now. Instead, those what-ifs are all about possibilities for Elizabeth. I do wish that Lex’s and my daughter could have played with her. That we could have been a family together.
But I don’t feel this sense of my soul being ripped apart. Rather, I feel...happy.
“Hard to believe there’s a whole person in my arms,” I murmur softly.
“Mostly what she does is sleep, eat, and shit,” Henry says, then, as if considering it, he adds, “Not unlike us.”
I glance back up at Henry and let out a surprised chortle, but then I hold it back so I don’t wake up the baby. But how crazy is this that I’m holding my niece? Henry smiles before he joins in, and it feels like we’re actually having a good moment together.
“You know,” Henry says after a time, wiping a tear from his eyes from laughing so hard, “I always assumed you’d be the first one to have kid
s.”
I stop laughing and lick my lips. The pit is in my stomach again, weighing me down. I cuddle Elizabeth closer to me.
“I nearly did,” I say finally, to which Henry whips his head back toward me.
“You nearly what?”
“I nearly did have a baby.”
He looks like he’s about to call my bullshit, but then stops when he sees that I’m serious. “When?”
I sigh, and debate for just a moment if I should tell him.
But then, I realize, I need to be truthful. I’m tired of holding it in and not telling him. Because that history is a part of his history, too.
“Fifteen years ago,” I say, meeting his eyes.
He frowns, his eyebrows pinching together, and I can almost see him doing the math in his head. Flipping back the pages of our history to that time, and he’s putting two and two together about what happened back then. What I did.
“That was when you…”
“Before I joined the Air Force,” I correct him, knowing what he’s referring to. “Alexandra Daae and I were…”
He gives me a disbelieving look. “Wait. Alexandra Daae? William Daae’s daughter, that Alexandra Daae? The one that Victoria wanted Phillip to marry?”
I nod, closing my eyes. “Yes.”
“But, back then… Back then…”
“She was my first love, Henry,” I tell him. My voice cracks. “My childhood sweetheart.”
“But you…”
“We kept it secret,” I say. I open my eyes and look at him. “The engagement. The baby…”
Henry narrows his eyes, and then I can see understanding as it dawns on him. “Oh. Oh my god, I’m so sorry. Alexandra was pregnant?”
I nod. “We lost the baby at five months.”
“I didn’t even know she was pregnant.” He’s still stuck on that fact.
I give a mirthless smirk. “We didn’t tell anyone, not just you.”
“But…” He guffaws. “I’m your brother, Ferdinand.”
“And everything I did after we lost the baby was a mistake. Lex broke off our engagement after losing the baby—she took it as a sign from the universe that we weren’t meant to be together. You know how she is.”