The Duke of New York_A Contemporary Bad Boy Royal Romance

by Lisa Lace

  Sophie falters. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. She glances toward the door, then back at me. She raises her hands. “Fine.” She returns to her seat.

  I beckon the waiter before she can change her mind. “Vodka and cranberry, please. And a red wine for me.”

  Sophie raises her eyebrows. “You remember.”

  “Of course, I do. Remember when we tried to learn the word for ‘cranberry’ in Thailand? How could I ever forget your drink after that debacle?”

  A shadow of a smile appears at the edge of her lips, but she purses them quickly and throws her wave of hair back over her shoulder with a cold shrug. “It’s been a long time since Thailand. Are you still traveling all over the world?”

  I bow my head. I can hardly bear to tell her the truth. “No. It didn’t work out.”

  Her jaw clenches tighter. She says she’s sorry in a neutral tone, but her body language tells me that there’s a well of bitterness inside—and I don’t blame her. My devotion to my career was what tore us apart, and now there’s no career—and no us.

  “You’re not a photographer anymore?”

  “Wedding photography.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah. I know.”

  “What happened?”

  “It’s a long story. Maybe another time. What about you?”

  “I’m still at the bank.”

  “That’s great.”

  We exchange an uncomfortable glance. Sophie didn’t want to work at the bank forever. She’d dreamed of going to college; a dream she put on hold while I built my own career. A career that is now in ashes.

  “It’s not what I imagined I’d be doing ten years later, but I don’t hate it. I’m up for promotion in the next few months.”

  “Fantastic. I always knew you’d do great things.”

  “Did you? Because my career never seemed to be as important as yours.”

  “You know I always planned to make it up to you.” I reach out and place my hand on her forearm. “You know I regret the way our marriage ended.”

  “So, it’s a marriage now? I remember you using the word ‘elopement’ at least a dozen times when we went our separate ways.”

  “It was what it was. I still regret giving you false hope. I guess we had different ideas of what the marriage would be. Maybe we should never have rushed in so quickly.”

  “Maybe.”

  “You’re single now, then?”

  “Really, Cole?”

  “What? I’m interested.”

  “Yes, I’m single. And I’m working in the same job. And I’m living in a cheap apartment.” She casts me a seething glare, and I bow my head.

  “I’ve thought about you a lot over the years.”

  She doesn’t reply. She squeezes her eyes shut. Her expression is pained. She swallows back tears and grabs her purse. “This is too weird. I’m going home.”

  “Let me call you a cab, at least.”

  Sophie holds up a hand and shakes her head. “No. Thank you.”

  She sweeps out the bar without looking back. I glance at her untouched vodka-cranberry, and an emptiness stirs within me. I gaze at the stairway where she was.

  I didn’t realize how much I’ve missed her.

  I stand in front of the ruins at Sukhothai Historical Park. Twilight is drawing in, casting a purple and orange glow over the remnants of the royal palaces and Buddhist temples.

  The view is something else, but nothing compares to the look of wonder on Sophie’s face. I thread my arm around her, and she leans into my chest. Her long hair is drawn back into a ponytail, those sunglasses still perched on her head. The redness has gone from her face and turned tan, a few freckles emerging now that her skin has seen more of the sun.

  We’ve only been traveling together for a couple of weeks, but I already feel like this girl is meant for me. In all the months I’ve been on the road, no moment has been more special than this one right now.

  I turn to her. “I don’t want to go our separate ways tomorrow. Let’s scrap our plans and start again—together.”

  Her eyes are wide when she faces me. Then her face breaks into a smile, and she nods. “Deal.”

  Sophie

  I finish my last bite of coconut and raspberry cake and push around the crumbs with my spoon. Lena and her husband, James, are sitting patiently with sympathetic faces. I’ve just finished telling them about what happened with Cole.

  “It’s a nightmare,” I say. “I only did this in the first place to move on from Cole, and it’s Cole I end up meeting.”

  Lena shakes her head, swilling around the last of her wine in its glass. “I find it a bit too hard to believe if you ask me. Seems like a ploy to get you back.”

  “Ten years later?”

  She shrugs. “If his career has failed, maybe he’s questioning his life choices.”

  James is less skeptical. “I don’t know. Sounds plausible to me. We’ve all done it, haven’t we? Sent a message to the wrong person. I did it just last week at work. Sent a female colleague an email stating how annoying said female colleague was. Didn’t go down too well.”

  “Even if it was a genuine mistake, don’t you think it was a jerk move to not warn me before we met?”

  Lena nods. “That’s the part that strikes me as really odd. It wasn’t fair to put you on the spot like that.”

  “I don’t think so, either.”

  “Do you think he’s the sort to manipulate a situation that way?” James asks. He and Lena married six years ago, so all my drama with Cole was before his time.

  I let out a long breath. “No. Not really. He was actually a really nice guy, apart from his complete lack of perspective.”

  “It was all about that stupid camera,” Lena says, filling James in. She turns to him with her eyebrows raised, looking like a sassy talk show host. “He abandoned Sophie over and over so he could go take pictures.”

  “There’s more to it than that,” I say. “He was pursuing a career.”

  “At the expense of everything else.”

  James nods. “If someone has a calling, it can be hard to draw the line.”

  Lena elbows him. “Whose side are you on?”

  “I’m just saying! He was a famous photographer?”

  “For a while.”

  “Well, maybe it was something he felt he had to do. Can you blame him for that?”

  “I can blame him for pissing off to Sudan when their marriage was at a breaking point,” Lena retorts.

  “Funny enough. Cole used the word ‘marriage’ yesterday,” I say.

  Lena rolls her eyes. “So, he doesn’t see it an ‘elopement’ anymore? Wasn’t that his catchphrase when trying to shrug you off? We tied the knot too soon. We shouldn’t have eloped.”

  “I’ve never heard the full story,” James says.

  I take a deep breath, ready to explain. “We met in Italy when I was on my off-year and went on to Thailand together. We came back to the US for a couple of months while we planned a round-the-world trip, and then we took off. We had the time of our lives and eloped to Fiji. When we got back, we hightailed it straight to the licensing office and made it official. I was only twenty-one years old.”

  Even though the situation is tense, I smile at the memory. It was the one reckless, impulsive thing I’d ever done. It backfired spectacularly and all ended in tears, but even now, I can’t say I regret it. That one year of wonder has seen me through every year since.

  Lena shakes her head. “He stole Sophie’s future.”

  “That’s a bit of an overstatement, Lena.”

  “What are you talking about? You were headed for college.”

  “I hadn’t even made an application.”

  “But you’d always talked about going.”

  “I didn’t even know what I wanted to study.”

  “As soon as you met him, you stopped thinking about what you wanted for yourself. I’ve always blamed him for that.”

  I fold my arms across my chest
. “Do you really think I’m doing that badly? You know I’m up for promotion.”

  Lena reaches over and lays her hand on my arm kindly. “You know what I mean. You might have made different choices if he hadn’t come in and swept you off your feet and then swept right out again.”

  “He got it right last night when he said that we had different ideas of what a marriage would be. I expected us to settle down and start a future together. He expected me to wait for him while he carried on doing his own thing. As soon as we were back home, I felt like he was gone. Then he was asked to go to Sudan.”

  “And he went?” James asks, his eyes wide.

  “Of course, he went!” Lena said. “He’d rather get shot at in a war zone than settle down with Sophie. The whole thing was ridiculous.”

  “Well, if you knew that about him when you met him—”

  “When I met him, he was traveling, taking photos and trying to sell them after the fact. He was a travel photographer. Once we returned, he got the paper position, became super photojournalist man, and that was it. Everything he had went into his job. I was a second priority.”

  I finish plating up the steak dinner I’ve made from scratch. A homemade pie is baking in the oven. I’ve never been much of a cook, but I want to make this night special. I feel like I haven’t seen Cole in forever.

  I put on the white summer dress I wore when we visited the Himeji Castle in Japan. That was one of my favorite places. We stayed in a beautiful hotel, and there were cherry blossoms in bloom. It felt like being in a dream.

  If only I can capture a little of that magic again tonight. Although Cole and I are living under the same roof, he seems so far away.

  I light a candle and set it between the two dinner plates. It smells sweet, like incense. I close my eyes and imagine that Cole and I are back in that low bed in Hyogo. He used to hold me like he’d never let me go.

  I open my eyes before the thought upsets me too much. I’m twenty years old and feel like a widow.

  An hour passes, then another. Cole was meant to be home at seven p.m. As the evening rolls past, I cry. The dinner is ruined, and so is the romantic night I have planned.

  It’s after three a.m. when Cole sneaks in like a thief.

  I switch on the light and catch him sneaking in. “Where were you?”

  He lays down his camera equipment and holds out his hands to placate me. “I’m sorry, Soph. Something came up.”

  “What came up?”

  “There was a shooting downtown.”

  “Oh, I get it. You had another crime scene to flee to. You promised that you’d be here tonight. I’ve barely seen you all week. This isn’t what I imagined when you proposed.”

  Cole runs his hands through his hair, and takes a step forward, to wrap his arms around me. I start crying again at his touch. This is all I wanted.

  “I am so sorry,” he says sincerely. He looks over my shoulder at the remains of dinner. “This looks amazing. Did you cook it all yourself?”

  I sniff, wipe my eyes, and nod. “It’s ruined now.”

  “Of course, it’s not! That’s what microwaves are for. It looks way too good to waste. Let’s have dinner now.”

  “It’s three in the morning.”

  “It’s five ‘o’ clock somewhere.”

  He heads to the table, picks up the plates, and sets the microwave. He picks up one of the wine glasses from the table and presses it into my hand, then wraps his arms around my waist, nuzzling his warm mouth against my neck.

  “I’m so sorry, Sophie. Don’t be mad. I’m here now.”

  “I hope you’re not thinking about seeing him again, Sophie,” Lena says. “I know you’re a grown woman and can make your own choices, but that relationship held you back for a long time. If you waste much more time pining over Cole, you’ll never meet the right guy and settle down.”

  “I know,” I agree. “I’m not planning on seeing him again.”

  “Good.” Lena nods in approval and begins to gather the empty dishes. “You don’t need to hold onto him, sweetie. You’re going to meet someone amazing who blows Cole out the water.”

  Cole

  As we agreed, Fifi meets me for brunch at a downtown bistro. As soon as she appears, I can tell she’s pissed. She spots me sitting at a table near the back and strides toward me with her hands on her hips, before slapping her purse down on the table and taking a seat, dramatically crossing one leg over the other and raising her eyebrows, waiting for an explanation.

  “Hi, Fifi.”

  “Cole. About time you called. I didn’t know that grown men still did the ghosting thing.”

  “It’s not like that.”

  She jerks her attention away when the waitress arrives, ordering an iced tea with lemon and a salmon and cream cheese bagel. I ask for an espresso.

  “In a rush?” Fifi asks scathingly.

  “Just not hungry.”

  Fifi sits back and fixes me with a stern stare. When I don’t speak straight away, she lifts her hands in frustration. “Don’t keep me hanging. I know you’re here to give me ‘the talk.’ Honestly, you don’t need to drag it out. It was like three dates.”

  I’m surprised that she’s picked up on the vibe of the conversation so quickly, but also relieved as it saves me having to let her down gently. “I’m sorry,” is all I say.

  She holds up a hand. “It’s fine. We met on Tinder and slept together on the first date. It’s not like I expected a wedding band and three kids. Out of interest, though, what is it? You met someone else?”

  “Something like that.”

  The waitress arrives with our order, and Fifi picks apart her bagel, looking at me across her food.

  “We’re here until I finish this bagel, so you might as well tell me. I promise I won’t cause a scene. When you didn’t reply to my voicemails for days, I got the hint.”

  “I reconnected with my ex-wife.”

  “You’re divorced?”

  “It was a six-week marriage when I was twenty-three.”

  “Still, you ought to give people full disclosure.” She licks some cream cheese off her finger. “Did you run into her or something?”

  “Actually, it’s a funny story.”

  I explain to Fifi what happened, and, to my surprise, she bursts into giggles. “Are you serious? That’s hilarious. So, what? You two are back together now?”

  I shake my head. “No. She walked out on me in the bar. She was hostile, to be honest.”

  “Oh.” She frowns. “Why so happy to drop me, then?”

  I let out a long breath. I don’t know why I’m explaining all this to Fifi.

  “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her since I saw her again. Things ended between us too soon, and for all the wrong reasons. I’m not sure I can simply walk away again a second time.”

  “And what does she want?”

  I glance across at Fifi, who has gotten over our “break-up” pretty quickly and is tuned into the conversation like it’s the latest episode of Keeping up with the Kardashians.

  “She wants me to disappear off the face of the earth and never bother her again. She got the raw deal in the marriage, and I don’t think she’s over it.”

  “You think it’s wise to stir things up for her again?”

  “What would you do? I mean, I’m not a guy who believes in fate, but what else can you call it? I reconnect with her by mistake, and she’s still single? It’s like the universe is giving me a second chance.”

  Fifi smiles. “Maybe if we hadn’t jumped into bed so quickly, I could have got to see this romantic side of you, too. She’s a lucky girl, even if she doesn’t know it yet.” She swallows the last bite of her bagel and slowly stands. “Don’t screw it up again.” She squeezes my shoulder as she passes. “It was fun while it lasted.”

  After brunch with Fifi, I head for my weekly visit with my dad. He still lives in the same downtown duplex I grew up in. Even the furnishings are the same, down to the faded corduroy curtains a
nd well-worn salmon carpet.

  Dad shuffles to the door when I knock and lets me in. He’s doing pretty well for sixty-nine, although his knees are failing. He walks with a cane now. He says it makes him look too old; I tell him he looks distinguished.

  He ushers me into the family room and asks me if I want a lemonade.

  “Sure.”

  He brings me in a drink and settles down into his old brown recliner, resting his cane against the arm of the chair. He adjusts his glasses on his face, bows his head, and fixes me with a knowing stare. “You look like you have something on your mind, son.”

  “I ran into Sophie again.”

  Dad’s eyes widen, and he leans forward. “Sophie! How is she? My God, how long has it been? Eight, nine, years?”

  “Ten.”

  “Ten years. She was a lovely girl, Cole. It was such a shame it ended the way it did.”

  I’ve heard the same spiel from Dad for years, and from my mother too before she passed. They both adored Sophie.

  “How did you run into her again?”

  “It’s kind of a long story. To cut it short, our paths crossed on a dating app. Sort of.”

  “You matched on one of those love connection sites?”

  “Actually, we didn’t match at all.” I explain how I accidentally messaged Sophie instead of Sophia, leaving out the part about the nature of the texts. “She agreed to meet up with me, and we caught up a while.”

  “That’s great news!”

  I frown. “Not so much. She took off before we could really talk. I think it was still a bit too raw for her.”

  “I’m not surprised. If I had left your mother to go waltzing off to some third-world country with my camera, she would have shown me the door, too.”

  “You know why I went on that mission. It was important.”

  “‘Mission!’” Dad scoffs. “You always did think of yourself as James Bond.”

  I roll my eyes. “You and Mom never did get it.”

  “Oh, we got it, son. You were passionate about what you did. The problem is, once you take a wife, you’ve got to save something for her.” Dad shifts in his chair, and I can tell from the way he’s getting comfy that he’s going to launch into some long tale.