by Holly Rayner
My head is still reeling, though.
Is Luca really royalty? Is he a prince? If he is, why didn’t he tell me?
I was in the presence of a prince…
I smile unexpectedly and feel my cheeks flush. I was more than just in the presence of royalty. I was kissed by royalty. I woke up in bed with royalty.
Luca… a prince.
I take another sip of coffee, still trying to process this new information.
At first, I’m merely starstruck.
I’ve never met royalty before.
My mother raised Nikki and me on a tight budget. Dad disappeared when I was just a baby. I don’t remember him, and mom told us he wasn’t the father type. He wanted nothing to do with my sister and me, and my mom told us we were all better off without him.
Because my mom raised us on her own, there was never extra money just lying around. Mom worked three jobs just to put food on the table. Though we didn’t have elaborate toys or a big entertainment budget, that didn’t keep me from getting caught up in the “princess” phase that many girls go through.
I didn’t have puffy pink dresses to put on, or white gloves and a tiara to play with, but I did spend hours wishing that I was a princess, about to be swept off my feet by a knight in shining armor.
I fantasized about how handsome, kind, and noble he would be.
Last night, I was literally kissed breathless by Prince Charming.
I giggle aloud, recalling the way he rescued me when the waiter was about to toss me out of that exclusive cafe seating area.
The smile fades from my lips as I become lost in thought.
No wonder he liked off-the-beaten-path establishments, like the cafe, hidden in the alley, or the club with no sign on the door.
He must have to work very hard to stay out of the public eye.
He’s basically a celebrity. No—he’s more than a celebrity. Luca isn’t a movie star or a musician… He was born the son of a king. He probably grew up in a palace.
He’s had a spectacular, glamorous life.
While my time with him felt significant and magical, to him it may have just been another evening out on the town.
Maybe he’s used to showing girls around the city… and going back to their hotel rooms with them.
Maybe I was just another one-night stand for him.
I hug my purse to my chest, thinking this through.
He’s a prince. I’m a nobody.
I’m the child of a single mother. I live paycheck to paycheck. I’m just a girl from Philly, with no job, and no prospects for a job in the future.
On top of that, at the moment I might be classified as a criminal. I stole money from my employer.
I do not deserve to even think about calling Luca back—ever.
He’s a prince, for crying out loud. He has better things to do than talk to me.
I cross my arms over my chest and slide down low in my chair. Exhaustion suddenly hits me. I glance at the screen above the check-in desk and see that my flight is due to begin boarding in ten minutes.
Good.
Suddenly, I can’t wait to get out of this country.
I have things to take care of back at home. My life is a mess, and I can’t spend another minute dwelling on the time that I spent with Luca. It will do me no good to pine over a man who is far, far out of my league. Fantasizing about a long-distance relationship will only hurt me in the future.
I have to forget about Luca.
It will be difficult, but I have to try.
I close my eyes, and immediately, visions of the night before enter my mind.
No!
I open my eyes and take a deep breath. As I breathe and try to center myself, pieces of my conversations with Luca come floating to my mind, unbidden. I try to fight them off, but the memories won’t stop washing over me like waves.
I remember the way he looked when I asked him if he helped troubled youth because he had been one, himself. The candlelight flickered off of his handsome features. The music wrapped us in its soft embrace. He sounded so honest. So sincere. But was he being sincere? Was he only saying that stuff because he thought it was what I needed to hear?
In a flash, my mind takes me to the scene that took place in my hotel room, just a few hours prior.
He said he’d been accused of a crime that he didn’t commit. Did he make that bit up, too?
I feel my brow furrow as I try to straighten it all out in my mind.
He seemed so open, so authentic. Yet that entire time we were together, he didn’t once mention that he was a prince. I thought we were truly getting to know each other, but maybe that wasn’t the case at all.
I close my eyes again, and this time manage to fight off more visions of Luca which threaten to overwhelm me. Instead I focus my thoughts on Nikki and Andy, and how good it will feel to see them again. I need to get back to my normal life. I need to set things straight with Derek, and then start looking for a job.
Soon, my flight is called. I make my way onto the plane, where I struggle to push my luggage into the overhead compartment. I flop down into the seat and buckle my seat belt.
Around me, passengers are turning off phones and storing them away. Remembering that I need to do the same, I reach into my purse and grab my phone.
Luca’s contact information is still on my screen.
For a brief moment, I consider deleting it. My thumb hovers over the “delete” button, but I don’t actually press it.
Instead, I close my contacts and then power off my phone.
It won’t hurt to keep Luca’s number. Though I won’t call him, now that I know he’s a prince, I might as well keep it as a memento of our evening together.
I mean, does it really matter that the night might have been insignificant to Luca?
It was significant to me.
I got to spend time with a prince. I got to enjoy Luca’s presence. I got to see the sunset with him, walk hand in hand with him down the narrow streets. I laughed with him, I danced with him. I spent the night with him.
It’s entirely possible that for the prince, I was just a one-night stand. Maybe I have to be okay with that.
Maybe I just have to enjoy the memory for what it is—a memory of a beautiful night in a foreign city, spent with a handsome, kind man.
My eyelids are heavy, and as the flight attendant begins going over safety precautions from the flight, I let the unfamiliar words roll over me like a lullaby. I lean back against the headrest and let my eyes close.
This time, as images of Luca begin to fill my mind’s eye, I don’t resist.
My one night with Luca was wonderful. I might as well savor the memory—even if that’s all it will ever be.
Chapter 7
Phoebe
I step out into the Philadelphia airport terminal and am immediately greeted by familiar sights and sounds. Instead of a foreign language swirling around me, I hear English, complete with plenty of American slang. The smell of fast food is heavy in the air.
I reach my hand up and massage one aching shoulder as I look around for a sign that will lead me to the terminal exit. Spotting one, I head in that direction.
No matter how hard I work at the knot in my shoulder, it won’t go away. I think the tightness in my muscles is due to the hours I spent on hard, unforgiving airport terminal furniture during my long layover in Reykjavik.
Time has become a blur. I slept on and off over the course of the long and turbulent flight from Iceland to Philadelphia, but my brain is struggling to figure out what time of day it is—morning or night.
I step onto a moving walkway, letting it carry me as I pull my phone from my purse and turn it on. The time and date pop up on my screen. It’s ten a.m. on Friday morning.
The time and date tickle my memory, but I can’t quite figure out why.
Then it hits me: Andy has physical therapy every Friday, from nine till ten.
I can’t wait to see my nephew. If I call Nikki now, maybe I can catch her before she
heads back across the city, from PT to her apartment. She’ll pass right by my place on her way. I could ask her to grab my laptop and meet me at her apartment.
I can’t wait to give Andy a big hug.
I dial Nikki, and when she picks up, I can tell she’s outside walking by the way she’s breathing.
“Nikki?” I say.
“Phoebe! Where have you been? I tried calling you twice yesterday.” Her tone is kind yet admonishing. My sister is five years older than me. When my mother died, when I was just sixteen, Nikki became my legal guardian. She’s taken that role seriously ever since. Though I’m an adult now, I know she still feels just as protective of me as she did when I was just a teen.
“I went on a trip,” I say, “to Europe. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. It was all so sudden.”
“Are you okay?” Nikki asks. “You don’t sound like yourself. And we must have a bad connection. I thought you said you went to Europe.”
She laughs, then I hear her speak to Andy, “Honey, put that away. We’re about to cross the street.”
Her focus returns to me. “Sorry… Andy got a new game from the PT office and he keeps staring at it instead of paying attention to where he’s going. Andy—I said put that away. I mean it. You can take it out once we get to the van.”
“I won’t keep you,” I say. I know that when my sister and Andy are out and about in the city, it’s a full-time job for Nikki to help Andy navigate the streets. “I’ll tell you all about it when I see you. Are you and Andy going home? Does Andy have the rest of the day off from school?”
“Yes,” Nikki says. “There’s no way I can get him back there and pick him up at three, so Mrs. Jackson gave us classwork that he can do from home. That way I can get a few hours of work done as well.”
“Great,” I say. “I can help Andy with his school stuff, if you want. I’ll meet you guys at your place.”
“You’re a life-saver!” Nikki says, sounding relieved. “I told my boss I’d have all this data-entry stuff done by five today, and I had no idea how I was going to get to it.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I say. “I’m happy to help. Hey, can you do me a quick favor?”
“Anything,” Nikki says, without hesitation. No matter how busy or stressed my sister is, she’s always ready and willing to help me. That’s why she’s more than my sister—she’s also my best friend.
“Can you stop by my apartment and grab my laptop and the charging cord? The computer should be on my kitchen counter, and the cord is in my work bag, which is probably hanging up by the door.”
“You got it,” Nikki says. Then her voice sounds distant again, “Andy, honey, let’s go! Not there—see the construction down the block? We’re going to have to take a detour.”
“I’ll let you go,” I say, sensing that she has her hands full. “See you at your place in a little while?”
“We’ll be there!” my sister says.
When we hang up, I smile. How in the world did I think I could just leave Andy and Nikki behind? Did I really think I could survive without the two of them in my life?
Getting one hundred thousand dollars to Nicole would have felt amazing, but it wouldn’t have been worth saying goodbye to them for years—possibly forever.
Excitement about seeing the two of them keeps me occupied throughout the taxi ride to Nicole’s apartment.
In addition to the excitement, I also feel a good bit of anxiety gripping my heart. Once I have my laptop, I’ll be able to transfer Derek’s money back to him. Will I be able to pull this off, before he becomes aware of what I’ve done?
I chew my lip as my sister’s apartment comes into view.
After paying the cabbie, I haul my luggage out of the trunk and then jog up to the entryway. I use an intercom in the lobby to let Nikki know I’ve arrived, and she buzzes me in.
I take the stairs two at a time. It’s a hassle to yank my rolling bag along behind me, but I’m feeling far too impatient to wait for the run-down apartment’s ancient elevator.
When I reach Nikki’s place, I’m panting for air. She opens the door, takes one look at me, and laughs. “What, did you just run the Philadelphia Marathon or something? Look at you, Phoebs!” She’s holding a spatula in her hand. The smell of grilled cheese—my sister’s specialty, and Andy’s favorite—wafts through the apartment toward me.
I wrap my arms around her and give her a tight squeeze. She feels soft as I wrap my arms around her. She’s always been a bit rounder and softer than me, and she put on quite a bit of weight when she was pregnant with Andy. She never lost it. I know she’d love to lose a few pounds, but her tight schedule keeps her from getting exercise on a regular basis.
“You have no idea how good it is to see you!” I say. I let her go and look around the apartment.
Nikki’s place is slightly bigger than my studio apartment, but not by much. She and Andy share the one bedroom—Nikki put a panel wall up between the two halves of the room, which turned it into a two-bedroom of sorts. The rest of the space is open concept, the living room separated from the kitchen by a small island countertop with bar stools pulled up to it. A dining room table—bursting with Andy’s toys, piles of paper, medical supplies, and some of Nikki’s work stuff—is pushed up against one wall, next to the apartment’s only window.
I don’t see Andy.
“He’s in the bedroom,” Nikki says, reading my thoughts. “He said he wanted to put away the game he got from the therapist. I think he also just needed a bit of quiet time—you know how draining PT can be for him. You want a grilled cheese? I’m making three.”
“I would love one,” I say.
I spot my laptop on the kitchen counter. I rush over to it, open it up, and power it up as Nikki returns to her place by the stove.
She flips the grilled cheese sandwiches that are simmering in butter within the frying pan. “What’s the deal with your laptop?” she says. “Why did you ask me to get it for you? And where have you been, anyway?”
I open up the internet and start typing in the web address for my bank. I’m about to answer Nikki when her phone rings.
“Oh, hang on,” she says. “That’s the doctor’s office. I’m trying to switch Andy’s Monday appointment to Tuesday next week.”
She picks up the phone. “Hello?” she says, cradling the phone between her chin and shoulder as she reaches into a cupboard and pulls out a stack of plates.
While Nikki talks on the phone and readies lunch, I log in to my bank account.
There’s the hundred thousand, right where I left it.
I navigate to a page that will allow me to do an external transfer of funds, and I quickly route the money back into Derek’s bank account.
Once it’s done, I feel a huge weight lift off my shoulders. There! It’s done. If Derek ever discovers that the money was missing, I will say it was a mistake. Now that I’ve returned the money, I don’t think I can get into any legal trouble. Besides, now that it’s back in his account, I doubt he’ll ever notice that it was missing in the first place.
I log out of my bank and smile as I close my laptop. Nikki hangs up the phone a moment later.
“There,” she says. “That’s done. I swear, they know me so well at that doctor’s office, it’s almost embarrassing. I talk to them more than I talk to you lately! Speaking of… where have you been? I feel like I haven’t talked to you in ages.”
She slides the spatula under a grilled cheese, and then plops the golden, buttery sandwich onto a plate. She turns and places the plate on the countertop before me. “You want some milk or juice with it?” she asks.
“Water will be good,” I say. “I’ll get it.” I stand. “It’s been days since we talked, Nikki. I’ve been out of town. I went—”
Just then, Andy emerges from the bedroom. “Auntie Phoebe!” he cries out, at the sight of me.
I change course. Instead of heading into the kitchen to grab a glass of water, I hurry around the counter and make a beeline for my ne
phew. As we meet, he wraps his skinny little arms around me.
“Andy!” I say as he hugs me. “How is my little champion? Oh my goodness… you are getting strong, buddy!”
Andy laughs. Compared to any other six-year-old, his little arm muscles would be considered weak. But for Andy, it’s good that he can use his arms to deliver a hug at all. Sometimes, due to the nature of his cerebral palsy, he lacks muscle control. His little muscles spasm and refuse to cooperate.
“I am getting stronger, aren’t I?” he says, happily. “That’s what Rosa said today, too. I was able to throw a ball against the wall, and it got up to five points!”
Nikki speaks up, from the kitchen. “That’s right!” she says. “Phoebe, you know that ball-throwing station they have in the activities room, at physical therapy?”
“Of course,” I say. I can picture the room.
Andy’s physical therapist’s office caters to kids. One room is filled with coordination and strength exercises that are designed to look and feel like games. I’ve taken Andy to his PT appointments many times in the past. At one of the stations in the activities room, he’s always instructed to throw a small weighted ball at a wall. The therapists are able to measure the impact of the ball against the wall and use that information to measure Andy’s strength. I can’t remember the numbering system exactly, but Andy sounds so proud of his accomplishment that I’m sure five points is an improvement.
I turn to Andy and smile at him. “Five points!” I say. “That’s amazing. Give me five!” I hold up a hand, and Andy grins as he slaps his palm against mine.
“Thanks,” he says. “I even got a puzzle prize. It’s the same as the one that I got a month ago, but the pieces are orange instead of blue. I already finished it twice. Do you want to try it?”
“Do I ever!” I say. “I remember your blue puzzle. It was really tough.”
Nikki speaks up. “Why don’t we eat lunch first?” she suggests. She walks to the dining room table and places a plate down on one empty placemat. “Then Auntie Phoebe can help you with your schoolwork. And after that, you can show her your new puzzle game.”