“I don’t know what I thought I’d find,” she rushed on. “Or maybe I did. I just—they were fearless. Completely unapologetic.” She shook her head, staring hard at the book. “I’m not like them, Nate. I never had to be tough. I grew up… bubble wrapped.”
“Allegra, that’s bullshit.”
She spun, startled by the steel in his voice.
“You threw a ring at a man’s face on live television,” Nate said, taking a few steps toward her. “Escaped a literal palace to hole up in a budget hotel. Snuck out of your own engagement party just now to talk to me. That’s not bubble wrap. It’s badass.”
She let out a disbelieving laugh. “Yeah, well, on that—you realize if they catch you here, you’ll be locked up for trespassing.”
“I know.”
“And you came anyway.”
“Uh-huh.” He shifted closer, so his toes almost brushed hers. “They can throw me in the dungeon for all I care. I had to come. To tell you that I—” He broke off. “That I’ll miss you, Allegra. Okay?”
Her insides clenched. She couldn’t sit with it. Couldn’t let it fester. “Careful,” she said, flippancy snapping on like muscle memory. “You’d probably love it down there. I might’ve seen a clip—Dungeon Delights: Pegged and Paddled?”
Nate bared his teeth. “Oh my God. You did not. Never Google me again.”
Allegra snorted despite herself. Nate chortled, and for a heartbeat, they were back in Geneva, sprawled on the grass by the Rhône. Then the moment slipped away. The laughter thinned. The ache rushed back in.
“Who knows,” Allegra said, her throat suddenly thick. “In another life, maybe we could have been us. Together-us.”
“But not this one.” His nose twitched, eyes red-rimmed, as if he’d been fighting this moment for days. “You’re a princess.”
“And you’re—”
“—not the guy who gets the fairytale ending,” he finished.
She managed a watery smile. “I was going to say a washed-up porn star.”
“Right. That too.”
For a beat, they just stared at each other, neither moving, as if stillness might keep the moment intact.
“Well,” he said finally, “they’re probably looking for you by now.”
She nodded, unable to trust her voice.
“Goodbye, Allegra.” His hand flexed at his side like he wanted to touch her and didn’t dare. “I hope Valenstadt realizes how lucky they are to have you.”
The words landed like a benediction. Or a eulogy.
He pushed past her, the library door creaking open, then shutting with a devastating click.
Silence rushed in. She just stood there, squinting at the varnished paneling above the fireplace, her reflection warped and small. This was what she’d been groomed for. Sacrifice. Put the country first. Always.
What she needed to do was walk back into the ballroom, take her place beside her fiancé, and laugh politely when he madethat joke again—about how, if they started right away, they could field a full forward pack by their tenth anniversary.
She could do it. She’d been doing it her entire life.
The future unspooled in her mind so clearly it squeezed the breath from her. Ten years from now. A state bedroom that smelled faintly of lemon polish and expectations. Silk sheets tucked so tightly they could pass a military inspection. A husband who rolled over and pecked her cheek out of habit, not feeling. Who never asked,“Are you happy?”Because as long as she looked composed, the answer didn’t matter.
And in the quiet hours she’d lie awake and wonder if Nate ever thought about her. If she wandered through his head the way he stubbornly wandered through hers. Nate, who’d seen her messy. Too loud. Too much.And instead of backing away, he’d apparently decided that was his favorite version.
If she let him walk away, she’d be choosing the façade over the only person who’d ever reached past it. Her chest tightened, then split wide open with something hot and terrifying and certain.
“Fuck that.”
