Tangled Games (Dating Games)

by T. K. Leigh

  She touches my cheek, pulling my eyes to hers. “But you can sacrifice your queen to save the king.”

  I shake my head, wanting to tell her again it doesn’t have to be this way, but it does. We both know it. “I don’t want to lose you,” I choke out.

  “And I don’t want to lose you, but this is the only move we have left. We gave it a shot, Anders. I thought our love would be strong enough. We both need to face the cruel reality that it isn’t. At least not to survive your world. If we don’t do this, if we don’t walk away now, there will be nothing left of either of us to salvage.”

  I knead at my chest in an effort to stop the pain, but I doubt anything ever will. Returning my gaze to hers, I cup her cheeks in my firm grasp. “You will always own my heart,” I declare passionately. “Always.”

  “And you will always own mine,” she squeaks out. “Always.”

  I seal my mouth over hers, pouring everything I have into the kiss. All my anger. All my sorrow. All my fears. All my love. She grips me tighter, desperation and anguish consuming her, consuming me. I’m not sure what has my tears falling more steadily. That this is goodbye, or because I’m not fighting harder for her.

  I now understand why my mother pushed people away after her diagnosis. It wasn’t selfish. It was selfless. She didn’t want to burden those she loved with taking care of her.

  That’s what I’m doing now, too.

  At least that’s what I try to convince myself.

  When she pulls away and peers into my eyes, I nearly beg her not to go. I hate the idea of not waking up to those eyes every day. But I hate what she’d miss out on more. After all the grief I caused her, after everything I took from her, she deserves a normal life.

  She’ll never have that with me.

  I clear my throat. “What are you doing about your flight?” I ask, switching into problem-solver mode, doing my best to keep my emotions at bay.

  “Your grandmother arranged for me to use the jet one last time. Kylian… O’Kelly will accompany me. He’ll make sure I reach my destination safely.”

  “Do you want me to come with you, too?” I ask before I stop to consider the ramifications.

  Even if she agrees, I won’t be allowed. As the Privy Council instructed, it’s imperative I not be seen with her. Not if we stand a chance to keep the monarchy intact.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Nora replies. “The best thing for us is a clean break.”

  “Why do I get the feeling there’s nothing clean about this?”

  She lifts her glossy eyes back to mine, tears threatening to escape once more. “Because there isn’t. This is as messy and dirty as can be. But I don’t see any other option. Do you?” Her voice carries a twinge of hope.

  I avert my gaze. “I don’t.”

  Spine straight, she re-secures the mask she wore for years. The same mask she wore when we met. The one I chipped away at. And the one I forced her to put back on when I introduced her to this world.

  “I’ll keep you updated on Little Pickle. Despite everything, I’d still like you to be in his life, at least as much as you’re able. He won’t have to know who you are. I mean, he’ll know who you are, but not what you are, if that makes sense.

  I arch a brow. “He?”

  Sadness covers her expression as she rests her hand on her stomach. “Just a feeling I have.”

  When she first told me she was pregnant, I was beyond excited about the prospect of having a child. But I sensed an unease within her. A fear. I couldn’t quite explain it, but for several weeks, it felt like she purposefully avoided any reminder that she was pregnant, not even touching her stomach, probably out of fear she’d get attached to this life growing inside only for it to be taken away.

  But lately, she’s gotten over that fear.

  If she can get over hers, why can’t I get over mine?

  “I’d like that,” I tell her. “If it’s not too difficult, I’d like to be there when he’s born. Maybe schedule a few trips out there for some of your appointments.”

  “As long as it won’t interfere with your schedule. You’re still his father. I won’t cut you off just because we didn’t work out.” She blows out a choked laugh, looking at the ceiling. “Although if you come to visit one day with a new wife you were forced to marry just to produce a real heir, I may have a complete breakdown.”

  I frame her face in my hands so she can see the truth behind my words. My fingers dig into her skin, an intensity buzzing through me as a new wave of tears falls down my cheeks.

  “Our child will always be a real heir.” I rest my forehead on hers. “And you will always be my queen.” My voice cracks as I struggle to speak through the agony enveloping me, mind, body, and soul.

  “And you will always be my king.”

  I press my lips against hers, torturing myself with one last kiss. One last taste of her. One last moment of happiness.

  It reminds me of the last time I kissed her before telling her about my involvement in the crash that cost her everything. I knew once I did, there would be no turning back.

  But like Esme so succinctly put it back then, I was torn between having a clear conscience and a broken heart. Despite knowing I could have very well kept it to myself the rest of my life, I told Nora the truth. She deserved to know.

  Just like she now deserves to be free of the cage this life has trapped her in.

  She deserves to fly, and she can’t do that with me.

  To keep my conscience clear, I break my heart and let her go.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Nora

  The airplane jostles as I stare out the window, the familiar skyline of Manhattan lit up at night zooming by. The engines roar, the plane gradually slowing down at the end of the runway before turning and taxiing toward the fixed-base operations office where I’ll disembark and leave this life behind.

  “Ready, ma’am?” Lieutenant O’Kelly walks up to me from his seat toward the front of the plane, the crew bustling around to prepare the cabin to return to Belmont, minus one passenger.

  I nod, forcing a smile.

  Despite having eight hours to prepare for my return to New York, now that I’m here, it’s more difficult than I imagined. I once looked forward to coming home after a long time away. Now I fear anywhere I go in the city will remind me of Anderson.

  Then again, I have a feeling I’ll find pieces of Anderson no matter where I go.

  O’Kelly helps me to my feet, following me down the aisle, the cabin crew bowing and curtseying as I pass. It strikes me as odd. After everything my mother said in that interview, I assumed they’d be happy to see me go. They certainly wouldn’t show me any sort of respect or deference. Instead, many of them look at me with sadness.

  When I reach the door, I hold onto the railing and take a deep breath, drawing in the city air for the first time in months. It’s still the same briny sea air mixed with fuel and something distinctly New York. But it feels different. I feel different.

  I descend the steps for the last time and allow O’Kelly to lead me into the main office, where a customs officer greets us.

  “Passport, please.”

  I hand it to the woman. She cross-references the photo to make sure it matches.

  “What was your purpose for your trip abroad?”

  I part my lips, wishing she didn’t have to ask that question. “I—”

  “She was previously engaged to the Crown Prince of Belmont,” O’Kelly interjects, saving me from having to answer.

  The woman looks at him before scrutinizing me, realization kicking in. “Oh, of course. I apologize. I didn’t initially recognize you.”

  “It’s okay.”

  After she types a few more things into her computer, she returns my passport. “Welcome home.”

  I wish this place felt like home, but it doesn’t. I’m not sure anywhere will ever feel like home again.

  “Why did you go through customs just to essentially walk me to catch a cab?”
I ask O’Kelly as he steers me through the FBO office where a few well-dressed men wait for their private jet or charter to take off.

  I guess I should be grateful Queen Veronica showed me a sliver of kindness toward the end and arranged my use of the jet. Otherwise, I would have not only had to attempt to get through the Belmont airport with no one recognizing me, but here, too. At least this way, I don’t have to worry about people coming up to me and accusing me of being a murderer.

  “Because I promised His Highness I would make sure you arrived home safely. Not just in New York. So I’ll be accompanying you to your final destination.”

  When we step out of the small terminal building, a black SUV already waits. O’Kelly opens the back passenger door for me, helping me in. Then he runs around and slides in beside me.

  “Do you want to stay in the Upper West Side apartment? His Highness wanted me to tell you that he’ll be signing it over to you once the lawyers draw up the paperwork. And not to concern yourself with the property taxes or any other expenses. He’ll cover those, too.”

  “Tell him that’s generous, but I can’t go back there. He can sell it if he wants. I’ve already reached out to my friends to tell them I’m coming home. I’ll be staying with Izzy in Gramercy Park while I figure out where to go from here.”

  “Are you sure it’s safe? You’re not just recognizable in Belmont, but also across the world. Especially here.”

  “Her husband is Asher York. He’s—”

  “I know who he is,” he says with a laugh. “The rock star. Pretty sure you’d have to be living under a rock to not know who Asher York is.”

  “Exactly. So their house has adequate security. I’ll be fine there.”

  “Okay.” He meets the driver’s gaze in the rearview mirror, giving him a nod.

  During the drive from JFK and into the heart of Manhattan, I keep my eyes trained out the window. I should find comfort in the fact that I’m minutes away from seeing the friends I’ve missed these past six weeks, two of whom are on the brink of giving birth. But I didn’t expect the first time I returned to be so…permanent.

  After a traffic-filled drive that takes over an hour, despite only being twenty miles away, the SUV finally pulls up in front of Izzy and Asher’s townhouse. I glance up at the five-story brownstone a block away from the exclusive, private park in Manhattan.

  Lieutenant O’Kelly slides out of the SUV and heads to my side, helping me step down onto the sidewalk. After retrieving my small suitcase, he carries it up the front steps for me, then turns to face me. It’s sad to think that my entire life can fit into just one suitcase.

  I once marveled at people who got rid of most of their belongings and decided to live more of a nomadic lifestyle, never staying in one place long enough to set down roots.

  Now the idea is quite appealing.

  “It was an honor, ma’am,” O’Kelly says stoically.

  “Thank you. This entire ordeal would have sucked if I didn’t have you helping me, Kylian.”

  He grits a smile and is about to retreat when he stops, lifting his gaze to mine. “Can I… Can I give you a hug?”

  Tears well in my eyes once more and I nod. He wraps his arms around me, my body tiny compared to his huge bulk.

  “You’ll always be a princess to me.”

  I draw in a breath, allowing myself to find a hint of comfort in his words. “Thank you.”

  He pulls back, keeping me at arm’s length as he stares intently into my eyes. “And I think once the dust settles and the noise dies down, you’ll find most people feel the same way. The loudest voice in the room is seldom the wisest. And is often the most scared. Just some food for thought.” He holds my gaze, then nods, making his way down the steps.

  Just before getting into the SUV, he bows his head. “My lady.” Then he climbs into the car.

  I expect them to drive away, but they don’t. Instead, he keeps his eyes trained on me, which I imagine he’ll do until he sees me disappear into Izzy’s house.

  Turning toward the keypad, I enter the code and the door buzzes, granting me entry. I walk into the small foyer, setting my suitcase by the entryway table, the place filled with light. I close the door behind me, then look out the window, watching as the last tie to my life in Belmont drives off.

  “Nora?” Izzy’s voice carries from the top of the stairs.

  I turn toward the staircase to see Izzy, Evie, and Chloe standing there.

  “Welcome home,” she says with a sad smile.

  I make my way up the stairs and into their outstretched arms. I burst into tears, all the emotions I’ve kept to myself since walking away from Anderson one last time washing over me. They don’t ask me if I’m sure I did the right thing. Don’t try to goad me into talking about my mother. Don’t bring up anything that would make my heart splinter even more than it already is.

  They just hold me and let me get it all out.

  Just like any loyal friends would.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Anderson

  I stare at the empty chair beside me in the formal dining room of my residence while Lieutenant Colonel Bridge reviews my agenda for the day. I somehow manage to nod when it’s expected, but my attention is elsewhere. It’s focused on the ghost of the woman who once sat in that chair every morning.

  I knew I’d miss her when she left. But I didn’t expect to feel her everywhere in this house.

  Her laughter still echoes in the halls.

  Her smile still tortures me every time I close my eyes.

  Her perfume still permeates the sheets of the bed we once shared, despite the fact the household staff changes them regularly.

  When the room falls silent, I snap out of my daze, bringing my attention back to Bridge. “Thank you,” I say, assuming he’s done telling me where my presence will be required today.

  A trained monkey once more, I simply go through the motions and do what I’m told. Like I did when I silently stood by as the royal household made an official statement, claiming Nora left voluntarily in response to her mother’s interview. As is always the case, they left out any indication of the role they played in forcing her out, remaining neutral instead.

  At least I didn’t have to stand by my father’s side as he shared this with the press. But in the week since, the media has certainly been hounding me, asking for a statement.

  No longer prone to shun the rules, I give them the response ingrained into my subconscious at this point… No comment.

  “Of course, sir.” Bridge stands from his chair, but doesn’t bow or retreat.

  “What is it?” I ask, sensing his hesitation.

  “It’s just… Carly Hart’s people reached out to see if you were interested in appearing on the morning broadcast at some point to give your own insight into Ms. Tremblay.” He raises a single brow. “To possibly counter what Dr. Harcourt claimed.”

  I stare at him for a beat, my expression impassive. “You know as well as I do it’s against protocol for the royal family to give an interview, especially when it would involve information that directly contradicts a statement made by the royal household.”

  “That’s true. And I’d probably be fired if anyone knew I’d brought it to your attention. But I thought perhaps you’d want to make up your own mind about this.”

  “I’m not allowed to make up my own mind,” I say evenly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to enjoy my breakfast in peace.”

  He doesn’t move.

  “Did you not hear me? You’re dismissed.”

  He opens his mouth, then snaps it shut, straightening.

  “What?” I growl.

  “With all due respect, sir, I thought you’d fight harder for her.” Then he bows. “Your Highness.” He spins on his heels, hurrying from the room.

  I check my appearance in the mirror, making sure my medals are lined up perfectly, nothing out of place on my military dress uniform, my required outfit for the state dinner tonight. I’ve always hated these things.
Being forced to make small talk. Feigning interest in things like polo and yachting. Pretending my heart isn’t still in pieces.

  But I particularly hate the idea of being required to attend, considering this event is the first step in the royal household’s plan to rekindle any appearance of romance between Caroline DeVries and myself. And like the puppet I am, I’ve gone along with it, despite my conscience screaming at me to fight. No thanks to Bridge’s statement at breakfast this morning that’s played on repeat all day.

  I thought you’d fight harder for her.

  Hell, I didn’t fight at all. At the first sign of attack, I sacrificed my queen.

  But I had to…

  Didn’t I?

  “Are you ready, sir?” Creed peeks his head into the dressing room of the private quarters where I spent my adolescent years.

  I squeeze my eyes shut, wishing I could rewind the clock to the day I looked up from my coffee at a downtown Chicago diner and saw Nora for the first time. To the freedom we felt when we scaled a fence and explored a run-down drive-in. To the way the wind whipped her hair around her face as I drove with the top down on the Wrangler.

  To when I was still happy.

  To before this life stole that from us.

  “Are you okay?” Creed asks.

  I open my eyes, pinning him with a glare as I start to push past him. “I’m fine.”

  “You’re such a bloody liar, Anders,” he grinds out, grabbing my arm, yanking me to a stop. If it were anyone else, he’d be fired on the spot for his severe break in protocol. But we’ve always been friends first. “Nothing about this is fine. The sooner you stop pretending—”

  “I told you!” I tear my arm from his, my eyes on fire. “I don’t want to talk about it!”