I took a deep breath, mustering the strength I needed to at least not be the kid who was dying on the inside, but the man who needed to get out of that moment. “Owen, I’m not going to renege on the deal I made. Whatever you need for that, I’m still here, like I said I would be. But you can keep your money. This is goodbye to…whatever it is I thought we were.”
I couldn’t even say boyfriends, since I’d believed we’d become even closer than that. But maybe that was a fantasy I’d made up in my own mind.
“Goodbye, Keeg,” he said in what was barely a whisper.
How dare he call me that? How dare he even use such a light, sweet tone?
It would have been easier if he had been furious with me or told me how wrong I was. But to let me go so easily—that was so painful.
I wanted to fight, to say more, but I was about to break down. I had to get away.
I hurried through the French doors, into the building, where I found the nearest restroom.
There was this part of me that hoped—dreamed, even—that he would barge into the bathroom and tell me it was all some mistake. Or that I’d wake up from this nightmare.
But my tears were my only companions, along with the sound of a flush from a nearby stall that assured me I hadn’t been on my own as I’d believed.
Fuck.
There was a soft knock at the door. “Everything okay in there?” a voice came from outside. Frederick.
Double fuck.
“Keegan?”
“How did you know it was me?”
“You realize these stalls aren’t exactly that private, right?” He peered through the crack in the corner of the stall door. He waved, and I waved back.
“Did you need anything?”
“Just my allergies,” I lied. “I’ll be fine. Thank you, though.”
“Okay. You have my number if you need anything.”
He headed to the sink and washed his hands.
God, he was going to tell Owen what an idiot I’d made of myself.
But what did I care? He was such an asshole.
After all, wasn’t I just some kid who was too fucking weak to handle being a royal?
That’s what he thought.
Fuck him.
I had been so wrong about him.
So fucking wrong.
In all the worst ways.
I grasped at my chest as though I had some imaginary knife in there that I was trying to pull out. The one Owen had plunged right in.
And fuck, I had to get down there and face Serena and Nance, the two people who could read me better than most.
But I knew I could do it. Just like I’d done it that day when my biological father visited.
