At the end of the path, the roses mix with lavender, and the cliff drops off to the sea below. The sun sets, painting everything in shades of orange and pink. Usually, these colors bring me joy, but I can’t find beauty in anything right now.
The worst part is, I’m not full of anger. I’m lost. And when I feel like this, it’s best for me to work through it alone until I’ve sorted through the mess in my head. I don’t want to say something I’ll regret or make decisions based on emotion. I’ve learned that words spoken in pain can’t be taken back, and I refuse to become someone who lashes out because I’m bleeding.
So, I sit with this feeling of not being good enough for Louis, and I let it hurt. I give myself space to feel and process everything that’s happened. It doesn’t seem like enough time, but it also feels like an eternity has passed. I’m no closer to clarity than I was when I walked out of his office.
I keep replaying the events of that afternoon. I stood in thequeen’s private chambers and painted her while we talked about art and life. She laughed at my jokes and asked about my family. I received compliments about my work and how she enjoyed chatting with me. I floated out of that session, feeling like maybe this impossible thing between Louis and me could actually work. I’d impressed his mother.
I was so stupidly hopeful that I asked her for a piece of stationery. Then I wrote six of the most truthful words that were in my heart.
I’ve fallen in love with you.
I was going to slip it under his door, but when I heard he was in his office, I thought I’d deliver it myself. Then I found a princess grinding on his lap.
I pull my knees up to my chest and stare at the water as the waves crash against the rocks below. I try to match my breathing to the rhythm, but it doesn’t settle me. Nothing does. I’ve tried meditation, wine, screaming into a pillow, and a three-hour bath that left my skin pruned.
Footsteps crunch on the gravel path behind me, and I don’t turn around. I already know who it is.
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” His voice is tired.
I hope he’s as miserable as I have been.
“Congratulations.” I keep my eyes on the water.
He moves closer, and I track his footsteps, counting each one until he stops a few feet away from me. I don’t look at him.
“Addison, please speak with me.”
After a few seconds, I finally look up at him, immediately wishing I hadn’t. Even now, even after everything, some stupid part of me wants to run to him. He looks wrecked with messy hair. The crown prince of Montclaire is disheveled.
I want to reach out and smooth down his hair, cup his face, and tell him it’s okay.
“And say what?” I keep my voice neutral, like I don’t know what he’s talking about, even though the thought makes me sick.
“What you’re feeling,” he says.
After a deep breath, I speak. “When I walked into your office, it hit me that maybe there was someone better suited for you out there.”
He takes a breath like he wants to say something, but he lets me keep going instead of interrupting.
“Seeing you two alone together made me question everything. Before you explain, I know she did it to trap or blackmail you. I heard her speaking to her father.”
His jaw tightens at my words.
“I hope we can survive this,” I say numbly. “For once, we felt possible, but now …”
“But now?” he asks.
I suck in a deep breath. “I’m questioning everything.”
He’s watching me with a soft expression as he listens. Not once does he try to defend himself or interrupt. He absorbs every word that leaves my mouth.
“Everyone wants you with Tatiana, Louis. I willneverbe accepted as yours.”
Silence stretches between us while the waves crash below. At least five minutes pass.
“Have you expressed your thoughts?” His voice is gentle and patient rather than dismissive. He’s genuinely asking if I’m finished making my points. It’s not something most men care about.
I take a shaky breath. “Yes.”
