by Kate Tilney
Alyssa
If the reporters don’t clear out in the next twenty-four hours, I may starve to death.
Okay, I probably won’t die that soon. But I am down to my last box of macaroni and cheese. I don’t even have milk or butter for fixing it up.
A couple of my friends have offered to bring me supplies, but I can’t ask them to face the media. Worse, I’m not entirely sure I can trust them. Most of my friends work for some news outlet or another. I can’t be sure they won’t go back to their own editors and report that the former Mrs. Prince James hasn’t washed her hair and has holes in her leggings.
I contemplated food delivery, but after three reporters already tried posing as couriers, I’m not willing to risk it.
Fortunately, Mr. Darcy has enough food to last him for another week, or I might end up murdered in my bed.
That is if I could close my eyes long enough to sleep. Every time I try, visions of James fill my head. Then the questions start.
Would things have turned out differently if I’d told him who I was from the start?
Was there ever a chance for us?
What am I going to do now that I’m out of a job, and I have nothing but true crime documentaries on Netflix?
How am I going to pay for Netflix?
At some point, I’m going to have to leave this apartment. I’m going to have to get groceries. I’m going to have to get a new job. I’m going to have to get a life.
But right now, I’m not even sure where to begin.
So I just keep hitting “next episode” when one episode of a grizzly murder show ends. I’m doing just that when there’s a knock at my door.
“Go away!” I shout from my position curled up on my couch.
The knocking turns into pounding.
“I said get out of here. I’ll call the cops.”
I’m sure they’ll be here to help just as soon as they finish solving all of their cases, like the one playing out on the TV right now.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Okay. That’s enough. How is a person supposed to solve a cold case from the comfort of her sofa with that ruckus? I throw open the door, fully prepared to give this journalist the “no comment” of a lifetime, but freeze.
There looking impeccably handsome and put together in a blue suit, is James. My heart somehow sinks and soars in one instance.
“May I come in?” He glances over his shoulder. “This place is crawling with reporters.”
Yeah, no kidding. I hold the door open wider and step aside. I tug my oversized sweater around my body more tightly and run my fingers through my hair like that’s somehow going to help me look like less of a mess.
James glances around my studio apartment. He doesn’t give away any impression of his thoughts. Mr. Darcy hops down from his post and races over to run figure eights between James’s legs.
Grinning, he lowers to give my cat a scratch under his chin. “You didn’t mention you had a kid.”
I bite back a smile of my own. Does he really think he can just stroll in here like nothing happened?
“I didn’t think it mattered, what with you telling me to get out of your life.”
He winces and pushes himself back to his feet. “You’re right. I over-reacted.”
The thing is. He didn’t.
“If the roles had been reversed, I’m sure I would have done the same.” I gesture to the couch. “Would you like to sit?”
“In a minute.” James moves toward me. “I tried working out exactly what to say on the flight here. It did not go well. You are a writer. A good one at that.”
“How could you possibly know? I only published a few pieces with that trashy magazine.”
“I found some of your work from college online.”
He searched out my old college clips? I chew on the inside of my cheek, not sure how to feel about that. Having hope seems dangerous right now.
“Well what did you come up with?”
“Nothing good.” He lifts a shoulder. “Try as I might, I could not find the perfect words to tell you how sorry I am. To tell you that running away with you was the best decision I ever made. To say I want us to get to know each other’s real lives and to be part of them.”
He raises a hand to my cheek. “Mostly, I want to ask if you could possibly give me another chance. And to say I already love you more than you will ever know.”
A tear slips from my eye, and he wipes it with his thumb.
I swallow, trying to hold back more tears. “That was pretty good.”
“For a first try.” He lifts my chin and lowers his mouth until it is a breath away from mine. “But if you are game, I would like to make it all up to you.”
“I’m a big believer in second chances.”
He arches an eyebrow. “Are you?”
“I am now.”
Epilogue
Alyssa
six months later
As I check the contents of my suitcase against my checklist for the fifth time, I give James a worried look as he steps into the bedroom of our flat in Oxford.
“On a scale of one to ten, what are the odds your father has a firing squad waiting to take me away when we get there?”
“Rhodon outlawed the death penalty more than fifty years ago.”
At least I don’t have to write a will. I cross that off of my to-do list.
“Well, what are the odds he has me hauled me off to the dungeon?”
“My great grandfather converted the dungeons into an extra kitchen and servants quarters before the war.”
“Oh.” I hadn’t realized the royal family of Rhodon was quite so progressive.
James drops onto the bed and Mr. Darcy hops up next to him. He rubs his face against James’s palm. My cat has fallen just as hard for James as I did.
We both made the move to England about four months ago. James has another six months to go on his appointment with the university. I’m using the time to write the book I’ve always wanted. It’s about an American girl who falls in love with a prince and moves halfway around the world to live happily ever after with him.
It’s all fiction, of course. But when I publish, I’ll use a pen name. After the firestorm we caused with our quickie marriage and annulment, the last thing I want to do is create more fodder for the media.
Or give the royals more reason to hate me.
“Are you sure I should go with you?” I ask. “I only met your sister the one time. While I’m happy for her and Ryan, I just don’t see how much help I’ll be at a baptism.”
Sighing, James reaches out for me. Setting aside my notebook and pen, I take his hands.
“You don’t need to worry about my family.” He raises our linked hands to his lips. His dark gaze turns sultry. “Besides, my love, my family is your family now.”
He means that quite literally. Last week, at the end of our holiday in Spain, we found ourselves in Gibraltar. As the Las Vegas of Europe, we ended up before a judge promising to love and honor each other until death do we part. Only this time we were both completely sober and intend to keep our vows.
“Your father is going to freak out.”
“Probably.” James chuckles and holds on tighter to my hands as I try to pull away. “But you’re in luck. Dad always had a soft spot for me.”
“You really have led a charmed life.”
“I won’t deny it.” He kisses my hands once more and releases them. “You and your love will always be proof of that.”
THANKS FOR READING James: Ridiculously Royal #3. If you want to find out what happens next to the Ridiculously Royal siblings of Rhodon, check out HENRY: Ridiculously Royal #4.
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Extra Long Weekend
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FLINT: Kings of the Mountain #2
RHETT: Kings of the Mountain #3
MAX: Kings of the Mountain #4
ZEKE: Kings of the Mountain #5
Fall Before You Leap
SARAH: Ridiculously Royal #1
ALEX: Ridiculously Royal #2
JAMES: Ridiculously Royal #3
HENRY: Ridiculously Royal #4
DALLAS: Sunset Canyon Fire & Rescue #1
SHANE: Sunset Canyon Fire & Rescue #2
CONRAD: Sunset Canyon Fire & Rescue #3
About the Author
Kate Tilney writes short and sweet steamy romances with alpha heroes and the relatable heroines who love them. When she isn't curled up with a good story, Kate can be found listening to true crime podcasts, re-watching TV shows from her youth, and dreaming up another happily ever after.
