But what use is it to know a man when you can’t trust him?
That thought wipes the smirk off my face.
My emotions rise and roil. My heart is racing. I glance at the vines and the green grape clusters nestled in their leaves.Sour grapes.The trellis structure suddenly looks like a mountain ridge that wall I’ll never be able to scale.
“Why show me the grapes?” I demand. “You knew this wasn’t the conversation I was expecting. Why deliberately disappoint me?”
“I’d promised you a secret,” he says, his tone flat. “A gentleman keeps his promises. So, I found a stand-in secret.”
The setting sun casts somber shadows, quite befitting the turn this much anticipated moment took.
After a minute or so of silent face-off, my frustration spills over. “And what about us, Henri?”
“You mean, your family?”
“I mean, you and I, idiot!” I yell.
Princesses don’t shout,Mother’s voice rings in my head. In fact, I haven’t raised my voice since I was a kid. But this man drives me crazy.
Consequently, I keep shouting, “I gave you a chance to clarify your motives, and you squandered it!”
He says nothing.
“Explain yourself!” I half beg, half command.
He crosses his arms. “Ten years ago, I was driven by the anti-royal sentiment, which I’ve grown out of it since. I’m afraid, there’s nothing more to it, Gigi.”
I stomp my foot, the silly gesture releasing a fraction of my pent-up anger. “Nothing more to it? Is that your final word? Are you really that obtuse?”
“What exactly do you want me to say? That I regret it bitterly? That I was young and foolish?”
“Yes! No! I don’t know!” My voice reaches a crescendo. “Just say something—anything! Show me you care!”
The hardness vanishes from his gaze as he murmurs, “I do. Very much.” Louder, he adds, “But I can’t change the past. I won’t blame my actions on youth, intellectual immaturity, or bad influence. It’s not what caused them.”
“Then what did?”
The stony expression returns. He presses his lips together again.
I want to scream, and it takes all my willpower not to. My heart pounds against my rib cage, echoing the depth of my exasperation and disappointment. In the gradually fading light, I search his beautiful face for a little telltale sign of hope. But I fine none.
He’s denying me full honesty about the episode that ended our relationship the first time around, that much is clear. What is still unclear, is whether I can move past this, whether our second chance can withstand such a fundamental divergence.
The chasm between us has nothing to do with opposing political opinions, past or present. I can handle those. I believe I could get back together with Henri even if he still hated the institution of monarchy. The disagreement I don’t think I can stomach runs deeper than politics. It’s what it means to be with someone. I must be able to trust him to be with him.
“Listen,” he begins, “you’re upset right now, and who can blame you? Julian’s scoop?—”
“Wasn’t really a scoop to me,” I cut him off. “I knew about the anti-royal plot. I knew about your involvement in it all along.”
Henri momentarily freezes and the color drains from his face. “You knew?”
“Yes,” I confirm. “Julian wasn’t wrong about you getting caught. Carlo, the former head of MESS, showed me a tape of one of your meetings at the time.”
“Who else knew? Your entire family, including Prince Richard, I assume?” He searches my face. “How come there were no arrests?”
“Carlo didn’t think your group was a threat.”
Henri contorts his lips into a sardonic smile. “His assessment was correct.”
