“It’s your father, Peter. He’s in the hospital. He’s had a heart attack.”
“W-when? Astrid, how is he?”
“It was minor, thank goodness. The doctor says he’ll be fine, but everyone is worried, as you can imagine. Peter, I think you should come back soon. I’m so sorry, Son,” she added quietly.
Peter could tell she’d seen the pictures from the tone of her voice. Though she wasn’t one to surf the Internet, things like that were always brought to her attention by one of the staff. If she had seen them, no doubt his parents had, too. Pictures of him holding Emma, kissing her, Em crying. It wasn’t good.
“The pictures, I’m so sorry.”
“He didn’t see them, if it’s what you’re asking. The pictures had nothing to do with this heart attack. He’s been weak for quite a while, as you know. But your mother saw them, and she’s as furious as I’ve ever seen her. The palace is going to issue a statement about it tomorrow, along with informing the country about the state of your father’s health.”
Issue a statement. Of course. His mother’s answer to everything. “I want to speak to my mother before any statement is issued about Emma. God knows what she’ll say.”
“You should contact her private secretary tonight.”
“I will do it now.” There was a knock at the door. “Astrid, I need to go. I will wrap up here and head home.”
“My darling Peter, they want to announce your engagement.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow.”
Of course. Blood hammered through his temples, too hard, too fast. In less than twenty-four hours, he had completely lost control of his life. Now it careened wildly, barreling downhill without brakes, and he was powerless to stop it. All he could do was strap in and watch the dark miles blur past until he reached his final destination.
King.
Peter almost ran into his office conference table when he moved toward the door.
“I need to go.” He disconnected the phone and steeled himself for whoever was on the other side of the door. He opened it to find a person in a hooded jacket. He frowned and started to close the door when Emma tossed off her hood.
“Em! How did you get in here?”
“Without being seen?” She smiled and sidled past him, “You need higher fencing around this place. It’s ridiculously easy to get over it. I parked on the street and walked through the property.”
Peter smiled at her, a fast, sweet smile that broke her heart. “That was a pretty long walk.”
“Better than showing up online,” she replied, shrugging out of the oversized jacket.
“I know it, and I’m so sorry.” Peter surprised her by pulling her in for an embrace, and she surprised herself by not pulling away. With his arms wrapped around her, her “everything is fine” determination collapsed and something inside her cracked.
“It’s not your fault,” she began. “It’s not anyone’s fault. But I came here to tell you…” Though she’d made up her mind to do this, to let him go, she could feel her resolve fading. It was the right thing to do, to give him the space to lead his life, to not hang onto him, to come and say what she needed to say.
Emma took a deep breath and said, “I’ve come to tell you good-bye.”
The words sliced through Peter’s heart and hung in the air between them. There was so much pain now, where there had joy only days ago. But it felt incredibly far away now, too far to get it back.
“Em, my father has had a heart attack. It was minor, but still.” The words tumbled out, in the midst of everything else he hadn’t planned to tell her.
Her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, no, Peter, I’m so sorry.”
He felt a tear slide down his cheek, and Emma caught it with her finger.
He grabbed her hand and held her with his eyes, “This is impossible, Emmeline. I wish…”
“I know,” she said softly, blinking rapidly. “I know.”
He kissed her hair, “I wish we’d had a little more time.” Then he said, “Life’s tragedies force you to focus on the things that are most important. You realize nothing else holds any significance beyond the humblest of things, which become incredibly precious, like holding someone you love, or watching them sleep, or sharing a dance with them. The things we chase, the silly things we think are worth chasing, actually aren’t worthy of our time at all.”
He paused for a moment, stroking her hair, and then said, “Dance with me, my love, one last time. We’ve only had one dance, as you may recall.”
Emma almost couldn’t bear it and started to pull away, but Peter tightened his arms around her and began swaying softly. When she relented and rested her head on his shoulder, hugging him tightly, his body felt tense and rigid. They swayed in silence, and all Emma could hear was the steady beat of Peter’s heart.
The pain of this moment washed over her in a steady wave of regret for things that would never be. She could still see and feel her dance with Fitz. It was a vision, a shutter-shot image, one tiny movie frame of her life inserted in the mass of frames that had preceded it, and all that would presumably follow.
This was what it came down to: A moment in time, a brief glimpse of a future they would never have, and a past they had hundreds of years ago. This life and that life, all of it woven into this one moment of good-bye.
Reluctantly she pulled out of his arms stepped back. “I should go. I wish your father a speedy recovery.”
She stepped back farther, wiping her eyes. “And Peter, I would have said yes.”
chapter 5
Within twenty-four hours the wedding was all over the news. Alexandra was heiress to a multibillion-dollar industry, and her father had long been considered one of the smartest businessmen in the world. Alexandra’s straight, shiny, jet black hair and bright green eyes were all over the Internet, and soon Emma Avery became less of story.
Emma sat on the train, heading for the city. Back to her life, at least for the next couple of days. Saying good-bye to Peter had been excruciating, beyond anything she could have imagined, especially considering good-bye was something she excelled at. Parting from Peter was nothing like any other good-bye she experienced. Except maybe with her parents.
The train finally pulled into Penn Station, and the noise and bustle of the city was a welcome relief from the quiet of being in the Hamptons. The sounds of the city helped push any mental chatter to the background.
As soon as he stepped off the train, her phone buzzed with a text from Peyton.
Where are you? she asked.
In the city. Heading for my apt. Emma texted back.
I’ll meet you there.
You’re here?
Peyton’s only response was a smiley face.
Twenty minutes and three subway trains later, Emma was on the street, walking toward her apartment. The familiarity of it felt good, and what was even better was seeing her cousin, blond and radiant, leaning against the front entrance doorway.
“I thought you’d never get here,” she grinned, holding her arms open for a hug.
“Oh, God, Cuz, it’s so wonderful to see you!” Emma hugged her tight, and she could feel herself starting to cry. Although, honestly, it was past time for her to stop doing that.
“Uncle Marcel called me last night, said you’re a mess. I caught the first flight I could and decided to surprise you.”
Emma opened her purse and dug for her keys and a tissue. “I’m so glad you’re here, Peyton. It’s been…” she let out a puff of air “…rough.”
Peyton had, of course, seen the wedding announcements. Lovely, stunning, filthy rich Alexandra, soon to be Queen of Belgium. Peyton would know her cousin’s heart was shattered without having to ask.
Emma slipped the key in the lock and opened the outer door, pulling her suitcase in behind her while Peyton followed. Her apartment
was two flights up, no elevator, no doorman. A far cry from Peter’s posh home in the Hamptons, or anything royal, for that matter.
The crack in her heart kept widening, but Emma shoved the grief aside. Some things, no matter how wonderful they might seem, were simply not meant to be. It was life’s odd twist of the karmic knife, probably meant to remind people that, when all was said and done, they controlled nothing in their lives.
Peter would marry, and she’d likely never see him again.
“You will see him again.” Peyton said from behind her as she followed her up the narrow staircase. Emma often forgot how incredibly intuitive Peyton was, able to sense things about people that continually confounded Emma.
“Stop reading my mind.” Em threw a smile over her shoulder while she continued dragging her suitcase, bump, bump, bump, up the stairs to her apartment.
“You know it’s not mind-reading. I sense energy and yours is, to put it mildly, a mess.”
“Thanks a bunch, but I won’t see him again,” Emma said firmly as they arrived on her landing. As soon as she spotted her door, she surprised herself by relaxing a little. It was surprisingly good to be home.
Peyton came up from behind her. “If you say so, but you’re wrong, and I think you need to get ready for what comes next.”
Emma slipped the key in the lock, pushed open the door, and stepped into her living room. It was a modest (very modest) one-bedroom apartment with a kitchen, living room, and small dining area. She sniffed the air. Yep, the place smelled musty. She set down her suitcase and threw open a window in the living room.
“How long are you staying?” she asked while she opened another window.
“As long as I need to,” Peyton sat down on the couch. “Now let’s get to work.”
“Work?”
“Yes, work. You need to dig into your past life again, and I need to be here when you do it.”
“Is this why you flew in?”
Her cousin nodded, “Yes, that and the fact that I think you could use a friend and probably a drink.”
Something jangled through her, and she knew exactly what. She didn’t want to go back. “Drinks, yes, past life, no. We were playing with fire from the get-go. Past life, this life, doesn’t matter. I’ve seen all I need to from either life.”
Peyton gave her a firm stare. “You have to. Something is amiss.”
Emma sat down beside her. “Damn right there is. I mean, I love Peter, he loves me, and he’s being forced to marry a woman he doesn’t know from Adam. I’d say that’s pretty damned screwed up.”
Peyton shook her head with a frown. “No, aside from that, there’s something very wrong with this whole scenario.”
“Peyton, I love that you’re here, and I love you. But I’m serious. I really can’t.”
When Peyton gripped her hand, there was an odd urgency about her, and Emma felt a twist in her gut. The problem with Peyton was she was usually right.
“Em,” she said, almost pleading with her, “You have to. You trust me, right?”
Emma nodded.
“Then trust me on this one. There is something about the past, about this entire lifetime, that feels undone or unfinished, and I think you and Peter need to finish it now.”
“Peyton, he’s getting engaged, probably as we speak. It looks pretty damned finished to me.”
Her cousin shook her head. “No, this is far from over,” she said mysteriously.
chapter 6
Though Alexandra had never visited Belgium, per se (she’d driven through with her father a few years back), she had to admit it was a charming country. Provincial, but charming. She wished she could have married into the British royal family, but they weren’t in need of a daughter-in-law. Plus, pesky Kate had her hooks well into William, with two kids, and her stunning, ever-perfect body that seemed to bounce back from everything life threw at her.
Alexandra sat with her father in the back of a limo. They’d flown into Brussels airport on his private plane and were in Belgium to begin planning the wedding, which was scheduled for the following spring. Though Alexandra wanted it to happen sooner, there was a lot to be accomplished, and rushing a wedding could mean losing out on important guests and important news coverage. She was an unknown and needed to first build rapport with this country, which meant visiting charities and kissing babies. Two jobs Alex truly despised.
“Father,” she said, breaking their silence. Sebastian Dalca pushed down his reading glasses and looked over at his daughter.
“Yes, dear?” he asked, slightly annoyed with her interruption.
“I want to go to the United States and visit there with Peter.”
Sebastian turned to face his daughter, “What do you mean?”
“Peter worked there. He spent a lot of time in the States working on those charities. I think I should visit them.”
“You mean the charities his former fiancée worked with?”
Alex waved her hand in the air. “Yes, whatever, those. I think it would be good to do a tour there—you know, two weeks or so. There have been lots of headlines about the Belgian royal family in the States and I think it would be beneficial to take advantage of it and improve their image at the same time.”
Her father nodded, “We’ll have to get Peter on board, and he only yesterday finished wrapping up his business there.”
“I’m sure he won’t turn this down. We can raise more money for those pet charities of his.”
“Are you still worried about that girl?” Sebastian snorted.
Alex looked away in disgust, “You mean Emma, or whatever her name is? God, no. He had his time whoring around. I’m sure he’s gotten it out of his system.”
Sebastian narrowed his eyes, “According to some reports, he was pretty serious about her. In fact,” he added softly, not wanting to deal with the fallout if he angered his daughter, “it’s been said he wanted to marry her.”
Alexandra could feel a jealous surge heat up her face. Marry such a common girl with no proper upbringing? Seriously? She rolled her eyes and said, “Those are merely rumors.” And her father knew better than to push the issue.
“I think going to the States is an excellent idea. We will need to find an expert to handle the media.”
Alexandra’s eyes narrowed, “I want someone from the States, someone who is familiar with the media there, who can get us on all the best shows.” When her father didn’t respond, she quickly added, “Everyone bows to the American media, you know that. If we want to ingratiate ourselves to the Belgians, let’s show them the Americans love us, and then they will love us.”
Her father looked back at his paper and nodded, “Whatever you want, my dear. I’ll reach out to some of my contacts in the States.”
With a mischievous smile, Alexandra said, “No need to do that. I know exactly who I want.”
chapter 7
After much wrangling, Peyton finally convinced her cousin to take one more trip to the 1800s to get a deeper sense of her life then.
Emma sat on the couch and sipped her tea.
“You ready?” Peyton asked softly, and Emma nodded, fetching up a sigh that came all the way up from her toes.
“As ready as I’ll ever be to go back in time two hundred years.” Emma set her cup down on the coffee table and lay back on the couch, closing her eyes and settling her mind. When she wanted to, when she focused on it, she was pretty good at going back in time, but it was a lot harder when it was her own life.
“This time, Emmeline, try to become more of the person you were then, so things make more sense to you. Try to be less of an observer.” Peyton’s voice seemed far off and distant, but Emma nodded in acknowledgement.
Already the palace was coming into view.
. . .
Emma felt the corset again, hard and firm around her waist, and she could see
her skirts as they swayed side to side when she walked. She looked up and saw the now-familiar hallway, and she could hear her children coming toward her and heard herself say:
“My darlings, are you finished with your schoolwork?”
“Yes, Mummy.” Fleur was beaming at her, and Emma couldn’t help leaning down to plant a kiss on her soft cheek. Part of her had missed this child so much it surprised her.
Noah held up a paper, and Emma accepted it from him.
“Why, such a good score, my son. Your father will be thrilled. Come, let’s go find him!” Emma gave her daughter a pat on the head, and her children scurried ahead of her and down the stairs to find Fitz. Though Emma was clearer than she had been about who she was in this lifetime and how things “worked” in her family and her home, there were still foggy areas, like where Fitz’s office was located. But clearly the children knew, and all she needed to do was follow them down the stairs and through another long hall. Finally, they arrived at his office, and when she entered the room, her heart almost stopped when she saw him. And he had a visitor.
Fitz looked so much like Peter it was almost frightening. She yearned to hold him, but instead she acknowledged the man seated on the other side of the impressive, ornately carved desk and said, “We didn’t intend to disturb, but little Noah wants to show you his paper.”
Fitz smiled and then addressed the man he was meeting with, “Please excuse me for a moment.”
The man stood up, gave a slight bow to Fitz and Anna-Maria, and headed out the door.
When they were alone, Fitz took her hand and said, “It’s never a bother, my love. Now, Noah, show me your paper.”
The little boy grinned from ear to ear as he held out his schoolwork.
“My goodness, such a high score in history. Why, that’s exceptional.” Fitz lifted the boy and sat him on his lap. “You’re destined to be a dignitary or other important citizen someday.”
A Royal Affair Series: Book 1, 2, and 3: A paranormal, time travel, royal romance Page 11
