Page 99 of Heavy Crown

My heart is a palimpsest. My love for him might be scraped away with time, but traces of him will remain dotted across my heart for the rest of my life. I will never be rid of the impression he’s left.

Posey has texted to visit after work a couple of nights, but I begged off as either tired or too busy with the upcoming wedding. Tomorrow when Princess Simone arrives, Posey will understand why I’ve been avoiding her.

Did she know about Alex’s betrothed? She’s loyal to the royal family, but I can’t imagine her keeping this from me.

How many people realized I was being played for a fool?

The first few days, I was hurt beyond belief, but a part of me understands that, even if he told me the truth, it wouldn’t have made any difference. Going into this affair, I realized we’d never get our happily ever after, and I did it anyway.

With each day, my sadness fades and morphs into anger.

If I’d known the affair would be weeks instead of months, if I’d known a marriage stood between him and the crown, if I’d known Princess Simone would call him husband within the year, I would have left this estate once my concussion was healed and never looked back.

The what-if or if-only games never lessen the hurt, but remembering the ways he wronged me fuels the anger I need to stay away. My resistance is a thinly constructed wall of rage. One caress from him would wipe it away as though it never existed.

Saying no was the right thing to do, but my heart, my traitorous heart, longs for a different outcome.

On Thursday, it’s dusk when he knocks on my door. Tomorrow Simone arrives. Will he try to persuade me even once she’s here?

“Rory, we need to talk.” His voice is deep and sure of itself. A king in command.

My stomach stirs, and against my better judgement, I go to the door and place my palm against the wood. The timbre of his voice burns off the fog of my anger and hurt.

“Simone arrives tomorrow, and if I am making a different choice, I must make it tonight.” He takes an audible breath. “It must be tonight.”

I press my forehead against the cool grain, and I picture him on the other side. My heart strains toward him, and my hand lands on the doorknob against my will. How easy would it be to turn the handle, to let him in again?

“You made your choice weeks ago when you signed the contract and didn’t tell me. Your heart belongs to Bellerive, not to me.” I manage to get the words out around the lump forming in my throat. How many tears does a body hold? I’ve been crying for days.

The door rattles on its hinges, and Alex huffs out a breath of frustration. “When I agreed to the arranged marriage, I didn’t know you.”

“That’s not true, Alex. Stop lying to me!” I bang on the door.

There’s a deep sigh. “I signed the contract after I met you, but the arranged marriage was in motion before I found you in your car. I didn’t—I had no idea how much you’d change my life.” There’s a beat of silence. “How could I have predicted that the woman I dragged out of the car wouldn’t just curl into my arms but into my heart too?”

Tears pool in my eyes, and I cover my mouth to keep from crying. The memory of being cradled in his arms is solid and warm.

If I say yes to leaving with him, how long until he resents me? We’ve known each other for three months. Right now, I can’t imagine breaking up, but what if we hate each other six months from now? Relationships are unpredictable. When I followed Derrick to Bellerive, I never expected our outcome either.

What if something big happens in Bellerive and Alex longs to be here? His father is sick, and the referendum could require a rapid decision from the king. How would Alex handle missing valuable time with his dad? Could he return for his death?

There are too many variables; too many things we haven’t worked out. We’d need months to be sure this is the right choice—not hours.

But I so badly want to open the door.

I said yes to the romance with Derrick, and I hated the reality. I can’t do that to Alex too. He wouldn’t just lose his family; he’d lose everything.

“I can’t,” I cry. “I can’t.”

“If you can’t—” His voice hitches. “At least let me in for a proper goodbye.”

I bite my lip and turn to press my back against the door. Letting him in again would be a mistake. I’ve barely survived this week, and if I have him tonight, and he’s with someone else tomorrow, I’m not sure I’ll recover.

I can’t cling on and let go.

“You should go, Alex,” I call to him, and I pray my voice stays steady. “You’ve got a big weekend ahead of you. My time in your life is done. You’ve just—” My voice quivers. “Got to let me go.”

He hits the door, and it jars my shoulders.