by Brown, Tara
I snarled at the text from Mary and sent an answer.
I hate you right now. You totally betrayed me. I hate you for letting him come here without talking to me first. I know this was a setup. You are as bad as your mother! Bring snacks.
Was that a typo? Autocorrect? Snacks?
Yes!!!!! I rolled my eyes and texted like a madwoman. He’s pacing like a tiger and I’m starving and this is never going to end. Get me a pizza or something. You owe me!!!!!
Fine!
“You’re texting? Seriously?” He stopped pacing which was technically worse.
“Yes. Seriously.”
“Who?”
“None of your business.” This was going to be a long night. Neither of us was giving an inch.
“Fine, let’s do this then. What did I say about lying to me and keeping secrets from me?” He finally confirmed my suspicion that Mary had broken ho code. I didn’t have an answer so I sat quietly, staring as his cheeks grew darker. “What did I say about lying to me and keeping secrets from me about my own country, Fin?” He turned, visibly shaking with rage.
“I didn’t lie.” My voice was weak, not from fear but from the restraint it took not to yell at him.
“You omitted! You know how I feel about that. Why didn’t you tell me what you heard Alex saying two years ago? Two fucking years!” he swore. This was worse than I thought. Far worse. “How could you keep that from me for two fucking years? And pretend everything was fine when it was far from it?”
I pressed my lips together and waited for him to completely snap, which was obviously coming.
“For two years you were angry and hurt and I had no idea why. Did you honestly think I didn't notice you drifted further and further away? Refusing to come home with me. Acting like you were busy all the time. Did you think I wouldn't notice that things had soured between us? You let me call you horrible for not coming to see my dying father. You let me think Alex was my friend. You let lies and deceit muddle my country, right under my nose!” He was shouting and gasping for breaths, but he’d pushed the wrong button. “You let me look like a fool, again!”
“Let you?” Getting off the bed, I unleashed, “Firstly, if you weren’t so busy being King Aiden, you might have noticed how hard my life actually is.”
I lost him there as he tilted his head to the side and gave me the look. The one that screamed “really?” but he didn’t dare say it.
“Okay, so it’s not like orphan-in-Romania bad but it’s not been awesome. Your mother hates me. Alex hates me. Your father hated me. The media hates me. Girls who want you for themselves hate me. Sheila hates me. And to be fair, I earned a lot of Sheila’s wrath, but I legit have done nothing to the rest of those people beyond breathe and exist! And somehow you just go on with your life, not noticing that every step of these last few years has been like wading through mud for me. You spent all your time with your dad and your country and basically ignored me for years.”
I began to pace.
“When I heard Alex speaking, a small part of me thought the whole thing was a setup to create tension between us.” I offered a snide stare. “It wouldn't have been the first or even the second time. Which is why I snuck to London, pretending I had that interview and hunted down Alex’s mom. Once I knew the truth, I wanted to tell you!”
“But you didn’t!” he shouted back.
“Because I didn't want to risk your relationship with your dad. He was dying. I told myself I could stay away from Andorra, and he would die and the whole thing would go to the grave with him. I was trying to be mature, you idiot!” I flung my arms in the air wildly. “And then you would be the only person in charge and Alex’s little scam would die with him!”
“But you let us die instead. By not telling me what was going on, you ruined our relationship!” He had a point but I wasn't letting him have the win.
“Fine, yes! I made a mistake. But it wasn't just the shit your dad and Alex did. Your whole world is too much. I thought my world had drama, but you all are masters of an old-world Jedi form of head game that even I can’t keep up with.” I pointed my finger at him. “And I trained with Sheila for God’s sake.”
“Fin!”
“Don’t ‘Fin’ me, Aiden. Let’s be honest, what if I had told you and you didn’t believe me? You have never believed me about Alex, and maybe I don't have physical proof, but I am right about her. Her mom told me the truth, I’m certain. And what if I did tell you but your dad denied working with Alex just to fuck me over? I would have looked like the asshole, as I always do. You think for one second I didn’t stew on how to deal with this? Because I did. But eventually I realized there was no point in telling you. Your father was still sick. So I pretended nothing happened.”
“But you didn't act like it was nothing. You were distant and moody. And I thought this was the end of us, not that you had been the target of my father’s political games.” His expression softened slightly.
“Because deep down, in the really insecure recesses of myself, I asked myself if you really did love me. Or if you were going through the motions because I helped bring attention to your country at a crucial time when you needed it. I wondered if maybe you were part of it all.”
“Fin,” he warned me with his tone, not shouting but growling.
“No, you asked me a question and I’m answering it.”
“You’ve more than answered it. Now you’re just being irrational.”
“Because I’m a woman, I’m irrational?”
“No, because you’re shouting and waving your arms around and pacing, you’re being irrational.” He calmed down but his tone had not improved. In fact, he sounded angrier. “You betrayed me. Again,” he said quietly as he removed his suit jacket, wearing just a steel-gray dress shirt and navy bespoke slacks. He unbuttoned a couple of buttons and sat on the desk, sort of leaning. “And I neglected you. Which means we are both fools.” His words were unexpected.
“I thought I was protecting you.” It was my turn to soften.
“And I thought you loved me enough to allow me the time to learn my new career. One that was forced upon me while my father was dying because my brother had died. I mistakenly believed we were strong enough to allow me time to adjust.” It was a decent stab. “Now I suppose I was wrong.”
“We were both wrong.” I was willing to admit that.
“Yes.” His eyes were filled with emotion. “And now, I presume the only question that matters is do you believe me to be part of this plot to use you?” His tone dipped into the wounded one I hated. He won the argument because there was no way he was part of it, and deep down I always knew that.
Instead of answering I stared at him, realizing this was the end of us, flooded with regret and self-hatred.
“Because I would never have done anything like that to you. And for you to doubt me and my love, breaks my heart more than anything else we have done to one another. I said some cruel things to you the day my father was told his fight was over. At the time, I couldn't believe you had decided to attack me about my parents, and I was irrationally upset,” he spoke calmly, making the butterflies swirl in my stomach. “I see now you didn’t give me the information you were angry about, but attacked me for it. You used weapons in our relationship I didn’t know existed.” It was a weird statement, one I wasn't certain I understood.
“You knew nothing?” I needed to ask it.
“Of course not!” he lost his cool and screamed. “Yes, I knew my father believed you were good for a strong economy. Americans were suddenly taking an interest in a country they were oblivious to until you came along. You had selling features that spoke higher than the breeding and family connection my mother cared about.”
My nose wrinkled, hating being discussed this way.
“Don’t do that.” It was his turn to point at me.
“Do what?” I asked with all the sass I had in me, though my fight in this battle had waned.
“Make that disgusted face as though I am t
alking about the price I’m getting for my cattle. You must realize that at the heart of it, this is a transaction of sorts. There is an unattractive side to a royal marriage, and I have to increase your value however possible.” His words were cold and cutting. “Anyway, back to the important facts. Of course, I sold your value to my mother constantly, along with my father. But I believed that every effort my father put into you was genuine. I had no idea anything he did was plotted or that he and Alex were working together.”
Everything he said got my ass up. “Okay, good. I’m glad you didn't know. But you have to acknowledge that while your assiduous family likes to do a pros and cons list before they marry someone off, tricking me, using something I considered to be a special aspect of our relationship, is fucked up. Okay. It’s fucked. Humiliating me to the point I don’t like to leave my house anymore and my entire existence is damaged, is fucked. Sending photographers to stalk me is crazy fucked. Paying my stepmom to humiliate me is fucked. Drugging me and your sister is crazy fucked.” My voice cracked, wavering on the verge of angry crying. I begged myself not to. “Your father—I’m sorry to speak ill of the dead—but he was cruel. And he planned on breaking us up after my usefulness was over. Leaving me ruined.”
“I would never have done that.”
“But you did.” I laughed bitterly, realizing his father had won, even from his deathbed. “You broke up with me and your father won. I was useful and now we are over.”
“I need you to believe me.” He crossed the room to me, forcing me against the wall as I backed up. He lifted his hands, cupping my face. “I didn’t know. I believed the trip was to show you how magical Andorra is but also to show Andorra how good you are for her.”
“The people there hate me.”
“All countries hate change. But we need it. And eventually they will forget they hate you and me and the changes I’m making, and hopefully they will stop thinking of me as a child king who doesn’t know what he’s doing. You’re not the only one getting the hate mail. Daily, I am referred to as the young’un, and they make comments along the lines of at least I have nice hair or look pretty in photos. They patronize constantly and I ignore it. Because at the end of the day, I am their leader. And I am working to create prosperity in my country.”
“You swear you didn't use me for sex at the funeral? I think I can handle all the other cruel things we have done to each other, but that, I can’t handle that.” I waited for his reply, watching the storms and seas inside his eyes change.
“On your heart,” he whispered, “the only thing I have that is of any value at all.”
“You don't have my heart,” I lied, pressing my back harder against the wall.
“I have never given it back.” He leaned in, his words landing with breath on my lips, “And I never will.” He was equal parts menacing and mesmerizing. “And what happened at the funeral was me losing control of my desperate need for you. And if I disrespected you in any way, I am so sorry.”
“I missed your Shakespeare,” I accidentally murmured.
“And I miss your inability to accept this fate.” He brushed hair from my cheeks.
“There is no fate.” I grasped at the crumbling bits of my anger and resolve. “You broke up with me.”
“After you broke my heart and lied to me under the guise of protecting me during the very worst moments of my life,” he hit back hard, “watching my father be put into palliative care was all consuming. You should have told me instead of letting me believe you were so cold as to allow me to suffer that alone. Letting me believe the insufferable brat was real and the woman I loved was an act.”
“How could I tell you that?” Tears welled in my eyes as I realized how horrible that had to have been for him to feel so alone and angry. “No matter what I did, you would’ve ended up hurt—”
A knock interrupted me.
“Go away!” he turned his face and shouted.
“No, wait!” I shouted too, realizing what that knock was. Slipping from his grip and hurrying to the door, I wiped my eyes. “Don’t leave me.” I opened the door to the fresh, hot food on a trolley with a maid behind it. “Thank you so much. I kinda love you right now.” My stomach ached and grumbled from the smell.
“Your Highness, milady.” She curtseyed and pushed the trolley with the tray inside and lifted the lid, revealing a large piping-hot margherita pizza, Napoli style. There were two tall glasses with ice, lemons, and citrus sparkling waters next to them. She started cutting the pizza.
“Oh that’s okay. I can handle this part.” I smiled at her, hoping she got the hint.
“Of course, milady.” She sounded uneasy but curtseyed again and scurried from the room, closing the door on her way out. She was way cooler before Aiden had arrived. Way more chill.
“You make her nervous.” I pointed at the door. “She was more chilled out before you got here.”
“Is-is that what you were texting?” He lost all the emotion he’d had before and now didn’t seem impressed with me. “A food order? I’m up here, dying inside, trying my best to understand how you could betray me, and you’re worried about your next meal? How can you even eat at a moment like this? We’re right in the midst of—”
“I worked all day. Judge elsewhere.” I pointed at him with the pizza slicer. “I’m halting these negotiations to eat. We will recess for fifteen. Maybe half an hour. I can’t think on an empty stomach. I’m so hungry I’m shaking. Just eat and pause and calm down, before we say something we’ll regret.” I placed two pieces on a plate and handed it to him.
“That ship has sailed.” He took a knife and fork, because he was that loser, along with two napkins.
I ate like a normal person, an animal, hovering over the pizza platter and using my hands to eat.
It was perfect, totally Napoli pizza with the freshest basil, roasted garlic, and sweet sun-ripened tomatoes.
I moaned as I bit in and the flavor from the juicy sauce exploded in my mouth. My stomach was empty, which seemed impossible considering I’d eaten my weight in breakfast. But that was hours ago. It was getting late, the sun was setting, and there didn’t seem to be an end in the emotional ride I was on. I needed to eat before we continued and I said things I didn’t entirely mean out of hunger.
The food landed with a hollow thud, forcing me to slow down.
“Look, Fin. I’m not pausing. I need to say some things. Such as, the reason I didn't contact you all summer was because I truly thought you would come back to Andorra and apologize to me. I didn't believe you’d stay away while he was dying and leave me alone to face that. And the more you stayed away, the angrier I became,” he said as he took a small bite. His chewing gave us both pause to process that statement. “And when you came for the funeral but didn't attempt to see me at all, I wanted to scream at you. I wanted to hurt you as badly as you had hurt me.” His confession was cold and stale. Devoid of the emotion I was certain it once might have contained. “But then we devoured one another, and I thought maybe things might patch up. But when you didn’t answer my texts after you fled Andorra, I went crazy.”
That bothered me more than if he’d been angry with me. Him being crazy created an image in my head: the Beast in his castle with my wilted heart under the glass, slowly dying off more every day. Emma Watson’s version made it easier to visualize, particularly since Jess had forced me to watch it three times. The memory made me smile.
“What aspect of this is funny?” he asked, wrinkling his forehead.
“It’s not. I was thinking about you as the Beast and Emma Watson and that reminded me of Linna watching the movie and complaining because the Beast wasn’t hot enough when he became a man. She yelled at Jess because all the singing wasn’t worth his lack of hotness.” I smiled into another large bite. “You had to be there.”
“Evidently.” He sighed, putting his fork down as though his appetite was gone.
“Aiden—”
“Let me finish, Fin. I need you to take this seriously.
I know you’re prone to this—” He motioned a hand at the pizza and drinks as if this was me stalling and being ridiculous. “The day you came to see Mary and we fought in the parlor, I was dying inside. I wasn't consumed by my father’s death or funeral or any of the emotions I should have been. I was consumed by a need for you. But you were cold and cut off and seeing me seemed to have no effect on you.”
“That’s not true—”
“When I saw you across the table at dinner with my mother, I couldn’t contain myself. I apologize for that. How I acted out of desperation. I thought we would spend the night together, and in the morning we would talk like normal people and I would fix this. Somehow, no matter what it took, I would fix us. But you were gone. Slipped away before I woke, to run from the country as though you regretted being with me.”
“Aiden—”
“And then those pictures of Lucas were sent to me. You went from my bed to his arms in one day. And I realized why you hadn’t come to see me all summer as my father lay dying. You had moved on. I had lost you. Pushed you away, and away you went. You then didn't return my text messages.”
“God, that’s not what happened. You weren’t even texting me.”
“But I didn't know that. I don't remember the next weeks. I don't think I saw light again until Mary called, explaining the story you’d told her of what Father had done. After that, all the pieces clicked into place. It made sense that you were miserable for two years, slowly pulling further and further from me. Your bitterness toward my dying father. Sneering at Alex. Why you had become the person my mother told me you were all along. Acting the way Alex warned me you would.”
“Convenient,” I muttered, noting the fire to defend myself building again.
“And I realized that again my family had come between us. Which was unacceptable. I don't know if my father set up those moments of you overhearing things or not. Or if it was Alex. Or simply rotten luck. But I do know you should have told me.”
“That’s true,” I agreed, seeing that now.
“And I wish I could take back everything that has transpired these last few months. I don't want a life without you. And nothing my family says or does will change that. And in fact, they have made it so I don’t want to see any of them again.”