Page 108 of Heavy Crown

“The truth,” I say, and my voice hitches on a sob.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think he meant it.”

“Oh God,” I wail, and a sob climbs up my throat. “I didn’t think he meant it. I didn’t think he meant it. Why would he have waited till the last minute? He didn’t have a plan.”

“Knowing Alex? He was scared. Too scared to admit he was scared.” She runs a hand along my arm. “Life doesn’t always come with a plan. Sometimes it just happens. We jump or we stand on the edge of a cliff wishing we’d jumped.”

Tears stream down my face, and I press my fingertips into my temples. “I love him so much. I’m sick with it. So sick.” Posey drags me into her arms when the first sob releases. “I should have jumped. Why didn’t I jump?”

thirty-nine

Alex

Simone left yesterday, and I can finally breathe. The crushing weight across my chest hasn’t eased, but at least I can be in my office, in my suite of rooms, without gasping for air. Having her in my wing of the house for a week was a slow suffocation. Although I gave her room to conduct any business related to Denmark, she shadowed me to learn Bellerive’s operation.

Under almost any other circumstance, I would have welcomed her involvement, her thoughtful questions. Admirable, even. She cared enough to understand what she could and to ask questions about what she couldn’t. Royal politics aren’t a mystery to her, and quite often I would be halfway through an explanation before I’d realize she didn’t need it.

My head can grasp she might be the wife I need, but my heart is across a field, tucked inside a cottage, surrounded by the smell of sugar and vanilla.

My heart is a fucking liability.

My heart is walking around this estate with no clue that it’s been detached from my body.

The most surreal experience to be present and absent at the same time. I’m here, living this life, and far away, living another.

Simone was patient with my aloof demeanor. Other than a lot of back rubbing and casual touches, she didn’t press for a more physical connection during her week here. She seemed content to sit close, observe, offer opinions, and get to know my family. Perhaps she was also happy I wasn’t jumping from Rory’s bed straight into hers as though I had no self-control.

I fear she may not be pleased with how much control I possess. Will she be okay with a glacial pace? I’m not remotely ready to move beyond Rory, despite what I claimed to Simone.

The referendum takes place this week. The day after, regardless of the result, Nick and Jules are flying to Tanzania for their working honeymoon. I’m supposed to head to Denmark. If we get voted down, I’m staying here. My parents and Brice will need the support, especially with Nick and Jules gone.

My phone beeps with a reminder to meet Brice at the front entrance for one last public appearance at an Alzheimer’s clinic in Rockdown, the other major city, located at the other end of the island.

My “on” switch has been flipped from the minute Simone stepped out of the limo, and I’m exhausted from pretending to be okay when I’m not. Not even close. At least I’m attending this public performance with Brice. His problem is switching his “on” to “off.”

I grab my phone from the desk and head out of my office. Desmond meets me in the corridor, and he passes me the talking points to go over with Brice in the vehicle. For a king, appearing to know your subjects is key. Everyone we’ll be meeting today is in this folder, along with key details of their lives and careers. Remembering them all when my brain is in a fog might be a problem.

“I’ll check in with you upon your return,” Desmond says. “I have a meeting with Prince Nicholas and Julia about their plans for Tanzania.”

“Sounds good.” We approach the front entrance, and Desmond leaves me to circle toward Nick’s section of the palace.

Outside the front doors, I wait for Brice and the car to arrive. I’m early, and Brice waffles between being right on time and five minutes late. Today he’ll be late because I’m anxious to get out of here.

I’m riffling through the folder of information when a tinkling to my right catches my attention.

“Oh, um,” Rory stutters. “I was expecting Brice.”

Her voice is a knife to my heart, and I turn to face her. She’s pale and drawn, exactly as she appeared after the car accident. The sharp, shooting pain I’m coming to associate with having her close and not being able to protect her, protect us, spreads across my ribcage. In another life I loved her, and I lost her. That’s the only explanation for how I’ve felt since I caught a glimpse of her in the wreckage—the dreams, the complete certainty, the peace that lives in me only when she’s close by.

Had anyone told me I’d be standing here with thoughts like these one day, I’d have laughed in their face. Past lives. Fate. Destiny. Love. Not an ounce of it lived in me until I caught sight of her unconscious on the edge of a cliff. Then something in me roared to life, and I haven’t been able to quiet it since.

The cups rattle again, reminding me where we are. I break eye contact with her startled green eyes, and I realize she’s carrying a full cream tea on a tray.

Fucking Brice.

“My brother ordered this?” I ask. Kane isn’t here yet with the car, and I’ve got this stupid folder in my hands. Seeing her balance the tray when she appears so exhausted is causing a riot of emotions to erupt inside me.

“Yes,” Rory says, and there’s a sheen of tears coating her eyes. “Sorry.”