Accidentally Royal_An Accidental Marriage Romance

by R. S. Lively

  “That's – fucked up,” she says.

  “To put it mildly.”

  “How did Carter – seem?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I don't know,” she says. “I just – you said he seemed as surprised as you were. Did it seem genuine to you?”

  I think back, replaying his reactions in my head. “Yeah, he seemed surprised,” I say. “But, I figured it was him just being surprised and angry that he got caught. That she showed up when she wasn't supposed to have been there.”

  “Could be,” she says.

  “You don't sound entirely convinced.”

  “You said he played it off like he didn't know the woman?”

  I nod. “Yeah. He made a big show of asking who she was.”

  “Huh,” she replies. “Is it possible – and I'm just putting it out there – that he genuinely didn't know her?”

  I laugh. “I doubt that,” I say. “She must have had a key to his place to be inside when we got there.”

  She shrugs. “It's possible,” she says. “I'm not saying he's innocent, I'm just asking questions.”

  I cock my head at her. Something is swirling around in her mind. I can see it. She's working up to dropping one of her big theories on me. She's always fancied herself a bit of a detective or something. Which is fine, I appreciate her perspective. Always. I just don't think this is a case of anything but what it seems to be – Carter got caught cheating on me.

  He broke my heart. Again. The son of a bitch.

  “Let's hear it, Columbo,” I say. “What's the theory behind the crime?”

  She shrugs. “No real theory,” she says. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

  “Then what is it?” I ask. “I can see you noodling something over in that big brain of yours.”

  A slow smile spreads across her face. “That obvious, huh?”

  I laugh – the first real laugh I've had in days. “I just know you,” I say. “I can see when you've got your mind wrapped around something.”

  “Fair enough,” she says. “Well, since I'm busted anyway, I was just wondering about the timing of it all.”

  I sip my drink and set the cup back down. “Timing? What do you mean?”

  “Just that – Mason finds out you two are a thing again and raises hell with you. Makes all kinds of unfounded statements and threats, right?”

  I nod slowly. “Sure. Yeah.”

  “He's desperate to keep you away from Carter because, for whatever reason, he's got a real hard on for him and thinks you seeing him is going to somehow damage his political ambitions or whatever.”

  “Okay,” I say, starting to see where she's going with this.

  “It's not about his ambitions though, mind you. It's about controlling you. Always has been, always will be,” Jade says.

  “That much I can agree with.”

  “Anyway,” she says, “with all of that in the background already, some mysterious brunette shows up in his place, making it look like Carter's cheating on you – with a woman you said he looked genuinely surprised to see. A woman he says he doesn't even know? Doesn't that strike you as – odd?”

  I sit back and let out a long breath. Truthfully, I hadn't seen it like that before. It's kind of out there. A wild conspiracy theory, but there seems to be some ring of truth in it to me. Or maybe I'm just desperate to believe that Carter wouldn't cheat on me, that I'm grasping at anything that sounds even moderately feasible to me.

  “Okay, let's pretend this theory is correct,” I say. “That doesn't explain how Mason got her into Carter's place. He's got a doorman and you have to check in and show ID before they let you go up.”

  Jade cocks an eyebrow at me. “Do you think a man in Mason's position would have trouble getting doors to open for him?”

  “Probably not,” I admit. “I just can't see him abusing his position like that. I mean –”

  “I can. Easily,” she says. “If it means Mason getting what Mason wants, I have no problem seeing him abusing his position.”

  I have to admit, it's an interesting and intriguing theory – Mason setting Carter up to drive a wedge between us. And it's not like he hasn't done something like this before. But, it still seems a little far-fetched to me. A little out there. Something that resides in tin-foil hat, conspiracy land.

  “I don't know, Jade,” I say. “I just don't know. And I wouldn't know where to even begin to start getting at the truth of it. I can't talk to Mason or Carter, obviously. And I don't know anybody –”

  “Sure, you do,” she says. “You know Pops. Well, you know of Pops.”

  “Right. Like he'd be unbiased.”

  She shrugs. “Maybe not,” she says. “But, if he's half the man Carter tells you he is, and his sense of honor is that strong, he'll give it to you straight. He'll tell you whether or not Carter is capable of doing something like that.”

  I take another drink of my cappuccino, letting my mind wander. It's not the most horrible idea possible. It might help me get some answers. And she's right, if Pops is half the man Carter makes him out to be, he'll give it to me straight – whether I like it or not.

  The question now is whether or not I want to walk through that door if I open it. Am I willing to hear that Carter maybe isn't the man I thought he was. That maybe he has been using me – for whatever reason. Though, I can't imagine what he'd be using me for, to be honest.

  If I don't, I'm always going to have questions. If I do, I run the risk of having my heart and my illusions shattered once and for all.

  ~ooo000ooo~

  “Well, if it isn't the notorious Darby White.”

  I give Pops a smile as I sit down on the couch across the table from where he sits in his wheelchair. He's not what I expected. I guess based on his reputation and all, I was kind of expecting him to look like an older version of Tony Soprano or something. But, Pops looks more like a doting old grandfather. A shock of thinning white hair covers his head, deep lines etch his face, but he's got a wide, engaging smile, and dark colored eyes that glitter and are filled with life and vitality.

  “Notorious?” I ask.

  He shrugs. “You've been kinda like Bigfoot all these years,” he says. “Heard a lot about ya. Never laid eyes on ya.”

  I smile and laugh a little. “I suppose that's a fair assessment.”

  “It's nice to finally meet the woman who captured the kid's heart,” he says.

  By, “the kid,” it's obvious that he's talking about Carter and the affection I hear in his voice for him is as plain to me as the nose on my face. But, hearing those words makes my heart skip a beat – while at the same time, making the shard of pain digging into it that much more intense.

  “I don't know about that,” I say.

  “I do,” Pops replies.

  His eyes are fixed to mind, his gaze steady and piercing. It's clear that although his stroke has left him with some physical limitations, his mind is as clear and sharp as ever.

  A tall, Hispanic woman enters the room and sets a tray down on the table between us. She looks over and gives me a smile as she hands me a glass of water. I give her my thanks and take a quick sip.

  “I don't want to rush you,” the woman says, “but it's almost time for his physical therapy.”

  “Of course,” I say. “I won't be long.”

  “Take all the time you want, darlin',” Pops says. “Therapy can wait.”

  The woman straightens up and looks down at Pops, a small smile on her lips. “No, it can’t, and you know it.”

  “She's a slave driver, this one,” Pops grumbles. “I best get a sponge bath out of it this time.”

  “You wish, old man,” she says. “I don't even do that for my husband.”

  “Yeah, well your husband ain't packin' what I'm packin',” he says and gives her a sly little wink.

  The woman bends down and kisses his cheek. “No, he's not,” she says. “His actually works.”

  Pops looks stricken for a moment, knowing she'd just gotten
the kill shot on him, and then casts a frown at the woman. She stands up and laughs as she leaves the room. They have such an easy rapport and it's not hard to see the camaraderie and care that exists between them. For reasons I don't understand, I enjoy seeing that little bit of interaction. It makes me smile.

  “So,” he says, turning back to me. “What brings you by to see an old man? Come here to ask for my blessing to marry the kid?”

  I give him a small rueful smile. “Hardly.”

  “No? Then what can I do for you?” he asks. “Not that I really need a reason to have a beautiful young woman stop by to see me, mind you. I'd be happy if you came over just to let me stare at you.”

  He laughs, and I can't help but join him. He's just so – jovial. Nice. I have a hard time believing the man sitting in front of me, so full of good nature and joy, could be the cold-blooded killer my brother seems to think he is. He's way more gregarious grandfather than he is ruthless mobster.

  Time changes people sure, but I have a hard time believing that somebody who was, according to my brother, a killer twenty years ago, could be this kind and jovial today. It seems like such a radical, maybe even unrealistic, personality shift to me.

  Sitting there with Pops, seeing him interact with his nurse – it makes me want to believe that Carter was telling me the truth about him. That he was right. And if he was telling me the truth about Pops, could he be telling me the truth about everything else?

  “I actually did want to talk to you,” I say. “About Carter.”

  “I figured as much,” he says.

  “Did he – tell you?”

  He cocks his head as he looks at me. “Don't even tell me he did somethin' to fuck this up already,” he says. “I'll slap that kid upside the head so fast, it'll make his goddamn head spin.”

  A small smile touches my lips. “I – I don't know what to think about a recent situation,” I admit. “I was hoping that since you know him better than anybody – including me – that you might have some insight.”

  “First off, I wouldn't say I know him better than you. I know him different than you,” Pops says. “But, there are certain parts of his life he don't share with me. Shit he knows would bore me to tears.”

  We laugh together until Pops breaks down into a coughing fit. He gasps and wheezes and holds up a finger for me to wait as he takes a deep pull on an inhaler. A few moments later, he's breathing a lot easier.

  “This getting' old shit is for the birds,” he says. “Avoid it at all costs if you can.”

  “I'll do my best,” I say.

  “Anyway,” he says, “he told me all about you, don't you worry about that. Ten years ago, I'd never seen him happier. Kid was walking on sunshine and had his head in the clouds all day. I'd never seen him so happy to be honest. That was because of you. All you.”

  “Thank you, but I –”

  “When you and he stopped seeing each other,” he continues, “it was like somebody had extinguished the light inside of him. He just went flat and dark. I guess they call it depression today. Whatever it was, I'd never seen him more miserable. Not even when he was fresh outta that orphanage.”

  My lips compress into a tight line and I look down, an all too familiar pain searing my heart. I understand and can relate to that feeling all too well. And somehow, knowing that Carter went through a lot of the same feelings and emotions I did, makes me feel better. As shitty as that sounds. But hearing, from a third party, that Carter was as miserable without me as I was without him, makes me feel better.

  “But, lemme tell you,” he says. “Ever since you two got back together, that light came back. Twice as much. Three times, maybe. It's just shinin' outta the kid. It's good to see, honestly. That kid needed somethin' good in his life.”

  I let out a wry chuckle. “As if countless millions of dollars, living the playboy lifestyle, and perpetually being the most eligible bachelor in Manhattan isn't something good?”

  He shrugs. “Oh, he enjoys life, don't get me wrong,” he says. “He's young and does stupid things – and by stupid, I mean things I wish I'd been able to do when I was his age –”

  I laugh and shake my head. Pops' personality is infectious. It's warm and delightful. He's a sweet old man and I find myself growing very fond of him already.

  “– but what he needed all along was somebody like you,” he says. “Somebody who fills up that hole inside of him. Who gets rid of that darkness that consumes him sometimes. Not to be too fuckin' poetic or chick-flick about it, but he's always needed somebody to complete that puzzle inside of him. He's needed you, Darby.”

  I sit back and let what he just said wash over me. On the one hand, it makes my heart swell with unfettered joy. On the other, it makes the pain already throbbing in my heart even more vibrant. I really don't know what to think or to believe right now.

  Pops looks at me and I spill the story. I tell him everything about finding the woman in his house – all of it. When I finish speaking, Pops runs a hand through his hair and fixes his eyes on me again.

  “Somethin' about this stinks to high heaven,” he says. “There is absolutely no way Carter would ever two-time you like that. He'd never run around on you, Darby.”

  “I want to believe that, Pops,” I say. “But, the evidence is pretty damning. I mean, she was in his house. Which means she had to have a key.”

  “Unless somebody let her in,” he says. “Did you ask the doormen?”

  I shake my head. “I didn't.”

  “Might want to,” he says. “Might want to see who they allowed up and let in. I may not know much, but I know that kid is lock, stock, and barrel in love with you. And that he'd never do anything to jeopardize that. Ever.”

  My breath catches in my throat and my eyes grow wide when I hear those words. I shake my head a little, desperately wanting to believe them, but denying them all the same.

  “H – he's never said that to me,” I say. “Those words. We've never –”

  Pops laughs. “Doesn't make it any less true,” he says. “Whenever I see him now, he's got that look on his face again – the one he had when you were with him a decade ago. He's walking on sunshine and has his head in the clouds all over again. I know this kid inside and out. I've seen him go through women like I go through adult diapers, goddamit, and I know when something is real for him, and when something isn't. He doesn't need to say the words for me to know. And I think somewhere deep down inside that heart of yours, you know that too.”

  I know what I've felt in my heart over the time I've been with Carter. Know how intense and powerful it is. How overwhelming and scary. And though I've never given voice to the emotion, I'd be lying to myself if I didn't acknowledge that yeah, I do love him. Which is what makes this whole situation all the more difficult and unbearable.

  “He loves you, Darby,” Pops says gently. “Loves you more than life itself.”

  “I – I love him too, Pops,” I say. “I really do.”

  “I know. I can see it in your eyes,” he says. “Now, the question is, what you're going to do about this fucked up situation?”

  I shake my head. “I don't know yet. There's still so many unanswered questions in my mind.”

  “Know what I think?”

  I grin. “I have a feeling you're going to tell me anyway.”

  “Damn right I am. It's my right as an old man,” he says and chuckles. “You want answers, you should be asking the questions to that goddamn brother of yours.”

  It's interesting to me that two people, completely independent of each other, both tagged my brother as a suspect in all of this. Yeah, he's a controlling asshole. He thinks he knows what I need better than I do. And yeah, he's more concerned about his political ambitions than me. But, would he really stoop so low as to frame Carter? Go that far out of his way and abuse his authority, just to tighten his grip on me?

  To be honest and perfectly fair, I don't have an answer for that question any more than I do for the ten thousand other questions fi
ring through my mind right now.

  “Carter told me your brother came back droppin' threats when he found out you two were back together again,” Pops says. “Says he'd set me up for murder if Carter didn't walk away from you – again.”

  “Yeah, Carter and I talked about that. He believes that you didn't do what Mason is accusing you of. He said you're the best, most honorable man he knows.” I can see the small smile and light of pride in Pops' eyes. In that moment, I can see how fiercely proud of Carter he is – it's the light of pride only a father can have toward a son, and it warms my heart to see.

  “If your brother is willing to railroad me to prison for murders he knows I didn't commit,” Pops goes on, “is it that far of a reach to think that he'd set Carter up with some fake sidepiece, just to fuck with you both? Just to get into your head and drive a wedge between you two?”

  Put in terms that simple and stark, I can see his point. And it casts a hell of a lot of doubt on what I saw that night in Carter's place.

  “If you want my advice, talk to your brother,” Pops says. “See if he can convince you of the truth.”

  “My head is so clouded right now, I don't know that I'd know the truth if it walked up and smacked me across the face.”

  His smile is warm and genuine. “Oh, I think you would,” he says. “One thing that Carter's always admired about you is your intelligence and your ability to see the truth through all the bullshit.”

  I don't know why, but hearing those specific words, hearing that Carter values my intelligence above all else, warms my heart more than anything else Pops has said today. I take a drink of my water and try to force the color out of my cheeks, suddenly feeling awkward and self-conscious.

  “Carter is a good man, Darby,” Pops says, his voice earnest. “Don't let anything your brother says make you doubt that. Your brother has an agenda. Carter's only agenda is to love you.”

  I can't stop the tears that well in my eyes from spilling down my cheeks. I tried, but I just can't stop them. The last thing I want to do is look like a hysterical woman in front of Pops. He gives me a small, warm smile, and he looks for all the world, like a grandfather trying to console his favorite granddaughter.