I’m in the comfort of my own cottage now, where I can wallow in self-pity and try to make sense of the broken pieces of my life.
Dramatic, maybe.
But the predicament I’m in calls for dramatics.
For God’s sake, my dad has me marrying a woman by the name of Walinda.
And I know what you must be thinking—just tell your father no. Tell him right to his face before spitting on him and taking off. I wish it were that easy. There is so much more that goes into this. If I were to tell my father no, that means I would be turning down the title and basically throwing myself out of this family, possibly risking Elizabeth’s happiness. Is that what I want?
I know Elizabeth would support such a move and be by my side the entire time, but it would just be the two of us. Mother wouldn’t dare talk to me, and I know my father would disown me without blinking.
Then what?
I take my trust fund that has already been awarded to me and get up and go?
Start another life?
After everything I’ve been trained to do?
Possibly putting Elizabeth at risk?
And I know what that new life would be. I would want it to be with Renley, but what if she doesn’t feel the same way? I told her I love her, but she didn’t say it back. I could be giving up so much for something that isn’t a certainty.
I stare down at my phone, wishing she would text back.
When I don’t see a response for the tenth time, I decide to text her again.
Theo:Love, I hope you’re not running.
I press send and stare down at my words. She’s a flight risk, always has been, but I’ve taken the chance, chasing after her. This time, it feels like there is so much more at risk.
I have duties.
Duty to my country, to my family, to my father, to my sister.
Am I really someone who would throw that all away to be selfish and have a life of my own?
I want to say yes, but fuck, hearing my father’s words and the finality in them, it makes me cower and be a man that I despise.
Knock knock.
“Not now, Elizabeth,” I call from my room. “I don’t want to talk.”
Knock knock knock.
Knock.
Knock.
“Christ, okay,” I yell as I head down the stairs of my cottage and to the front door, which I whip open, only to find Rupert standing on the other side, and Elizabeth right behind him, holding a stick to his back, as if she’s threatening him.
“What’s going on?” I look between the two of them.
“Rupert has something to say to you.” She jabs him with the stick, causing him to squeal in pain.
“Fucking stop that.” He swats at the stick and then rubs his back. “That thing is sharp.”
“I know, that’s why I used it.” She gestures toward me. “Go ahead, tell him why you’ve been so upset all summer but refused to talk to your best friend about it until you ran into a woman in her fifties who convinced you that your best friend was using, abusing, and taking advantage of you, when in reality, you were mutually benefiting from each other and you never should have let an older woman get between the two of you.”
