Royal Ruin

by Jessica Peterson

  It was obvious I wasn’t brave enough to go back to Kit. I wasn’t a risk taker. Never had been.

  Taking a deep breath, I took the phone from Aly and dropped it back in my bag.

  “I told you, it’s not meant to be.” I opened my notebook to a fresh page and uncapped a pen. I turned to Tim, swallowing the lump in my throat. I could do this. This was the right choice.

  It was the only choice.

  “So, Tim. Tell us about this castle of yours.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Kit

  That Night

  I crossed my ankle over my knee and rested my arm on the back of the sofa. My date for the evening, Poppy Townshend, took that as invitation to lean into me. She settled her head against my chest.

  “Having fun?” she asked.

  I tipped back my glass. “Yeah.”

  Fuck, it was empty. That had gone down fast. Too fast.

  I was drinking too much. But it was the only thing that dulled the relentless pain inside my chest. In my gut. In my legs.

  The pain was bloody everywhere, in every waking moment of every day. It had even seeped into my dreams. Six months on, and I was still dreaming of Emily. Still smelling her on my sheets and on my skin. She was a ghost who haunted me day and night.

  I kept waiting for her to leave me the hell alone. No woman had ever stayed with me like this. In fact, it used to scare me, how quickly I forgot about girls after they left.

  But Emily was sticking around, no matter how much I drank or how many women I dated. Poppy was just the latest in a string of girls I’d been with since Emily walked out on me.

  I had to keep trying.

  Keep drinking until I didn’t feel this goddamn hurt anymore.

  I held up my glass to the waitress, who quickly replaced it with a fresh cocktail. These days, it was vodka on ice. Bourbon made me think of Emily. I wouldn’t touch the stuff with a ten foot pole.

  We were at Jeanette’s. I was at the best table in the house, with the best looking girl, surrounded by the best group of friends a bloke could ask for. Everyone was chatting, dancing, drinking. Smiling.

  Yet here I was, a miserable prick, drowning in a swimming pool’s worth of vodka.

  “Want to dance?” Poppy asked.

  I glanced at the writhing bodies that packed the dance floor. My heart swelled when I remembered how much fun Em and I had had out there. Was she doing the lawnmower with someone new? She was still working on the School for the Arts. Every once in a while we’d email back and forth about bills or furniture choices. But other than that, I never heard from her. I knew she’d opened up the London office she’d wanted so badly. Her dreams were coming true. I imagined she was happy as a clam.

  I wished she could’ve been happy with me.

  I missed her. So damn much.

  “I’m going to pass,” I said, taking a long pull from my drink. “I’m sorry. I don’t dance.”

  Poppy’s eyes flickered with hurt. She quickly blinked it away.

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m perfectly content to just hang here,” she replied.

  “Brilliant.”

  A pool of awkward silence settled between us.

  “So,” I said. “How was your day?”

  Poppy nodded. “It was good. Now that I’m not modeling that much anymore, I’ve got loads of time to explore London. It’s been so long since I’ve been settled in one place like this. It’s nice.”

  “That does sound nice.”

  “It is.”

  More silence. I finished my drink. Motioned for another when I remembered how fun and flirty my conversations with Emily were. When I remembered how easy it was to talk to her about anything and everything.

  “What about you?” she asked. “How was your day?”

  I shrugged. “It was all right. I feel like I’m really spinning my wheels with the foundation. I’m not really sure what to do next.”

  “Oh,” she replied. “I’m sorry. I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

  “Yeah. I hope so too.”

  Silence. Again.

  Where was my bloody drink?

  I glanced down at Poppy. I felt bad for her. She was a nice girl. Gorgeous as hell. She’d dressed up for our date, if you could even call it that. She was being kind, cute. She was trying to strike up a conversation, but I was being a complete and utter arsehole. A very rude, very drunk arsehole.

  I tore my hand through my hair. Fuck me, I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be dragging this poor girl out when I was obviously not fit for polite company at the moment. It was painful for me. Unfair to her.

  Letting out a sigh, I decided it was time to cut my losses. If I had another drink, I knew I’d black out, and I didn’t want Poppy to have to take care of me if—when—things got really out of hand. Better to drown my sorrows at home, where I could only do so much damage.

  “I apologize,” I said, setting my empty glass down. “But I think I’m going to head home.”

  “Really?” Poppy asked, clearly upset. “Did I do something, or…?”

  “No.” I pressed a kiss onto her cheek. “I know people say this all the time, but I promise I mean it—it’s not you, it’s me. You deserve so much better, Poppy. I’m sorry.”

  I offered to drop her off—I planned on grabbing a cab outside—but she politely declined. I said goodbye and then I got up and left, praying I hadn’t finished that bottle of vodka in the kitchen last night.

  Praying the pain would go the fuck away already.

  * * *

  I stumbled into my kitchen. I drew up short when I saw all three of my siblings sitting at the island. They looked at me expectantly, like they’d been waiting for a while.

  “What”—I burped—“are you lot doing here?”

  Jane stood and put a hand on my arm, steadying me. “We’re here for an intervention.”

  “An intervention?” I asked, pulling away my arm. “What the hell are you on about?”

  “You’re a miserable wanker, that’s what,” Rob replied.

  “Out,” I said. “All of you, get out, before I…before I vomit on you.”

  Jack snapped open a plastic bag and patted the stool beside his. “Just hear us out, all right, Kit? We wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t important.”

  “We’re worried about you,” Jane added. “I’m worried about you. And that’s really saying something.”

  I had to give her that. She was the one who was usually in need of an intervention. If she was here, that meant my situation was serious.

  Had I really gotten that bad?

  Yes. The answer to that was a definite yes. Still, I was in no mood to be lectured, least of all by my brothers and sister. I wanted to have one—meh, maybe two—more drinks before passing out cold on the couch.

  “Could we do this in the morning?” I said. “I’m absolutely shattered—”

  “Sit.” Rob pointed to the stool. “Or so help me God, I’ll call the Queen.”

  I glared at him. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Try me,” he said, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

  “Don’t tempt him. He hasn’t had sex in a week. A week, Kit! There’s no telling what he’ll do,” Jack said.

  Jane nodded. “Rob does have that crazy look in his eyes. I wouldn’t trust him.”

  I stared Rob down for a beat. Another.

  “Fine,” I said, yanking out the stool. I took the plastic bag from Jack and rumpled it in my fist. “You’ve got two minutes.”

  Jane set a glass of water in front of me. “Drink this. You stink of vodka.”

  I did as I was told, eyeing my siblings as I drank.

  Rob slid the phone back into his pocket. “Ever since Emily left, you’ve gone back to being the ornery old grump you were before she came ’round.”

  “We hate that old grump,” Jack said.

  Jane nodded. “Hate him.”

  “We liked the Emily Kit better.”

  I set the empty glass
on the counter. “Emily Kit?”

  “The Kit you are when Emily’s around,” Jack explained. “That Kit is pleasant, kind…”

  “…Sober, cheerful…” Rob said.

  “…He’s basically the best,” Jane said. “Kit, when you were with Emily, you were happy for the first time since Mummy and Dad died.”

  “What makes you think I’m not happy now?” I shot back. “I’m happy, God damn it.”

  Rob rolled his eyes.

  Jane reached across the counter and put her hand on mine. “You’ve got to get her back, Kit. Whatever happened between the two of you, you’ve got to fix it. You can’t be miserable and drunk like this for the rest of your life. You’re going to be king one day. But more than that, you’re our brother. We miss you.”

  I swallowed, hard, and looked away.

  “There is no fixing Emily and me,” I said. “We couldn’t make it work. She didn’t want to give up her life. I didn’t want to give up mine. It’s better this way, trust me. Speaking of mum and dad—I need to be with someone who’s going to help me honor their legacy, not erase it.”

  Jane squeezed my hand. “Maybe you’re going about honoring their legacy all wrong, Kit. Maybe you don’t do it by running yourself into the ground. Maybe you honor their legacy by being happy.”

  I swallowed again. Shit, I was going to cry.

  “It’s what they wanted for you,” Rob said softly. “It’s what they wanted for all of us. They were happy, Kit. I know they’d be happy to see you happy with someone.”

  Jack cleared his throat. “And you were happy with Emily. So go get her back.”

  “Go get her, Kit,” Jane said. “Trust me when I say the kind of connection you two share is rare. Very, very rare. Don’t throw it away.”

  “But Emily won’t give up her career,” I said, shaking my head. “Even if I tried, she’d never take me back. I don’t think she wants this life—I don’t think she wants to be queen, I mean. And I can’t just abdicate. Not with all the work—”

  “We’ll handle the foundation,” Jane said. “The School for the Arts, the initiatives, the engagements—everything.”

  My eyes went wide. “What?”

  “We’ve talked about it,” Rob said. “You’ve taken on more than your fair share of the work. Now we see that it’s taken its toll.”

  “Really?” I said, genuinely surprised. “Only took you ten years.”

  Jane looked at me. “We’re really sorry about that. But now that I have a lot of—um—spare time since I’m single, we’re ready to take a more active role in making mum and dad’s dreams for the monarchy come true. I’ll be cooking up some strategic planning.”

  “I’m going to be the social media coordinator,” Jack said proudly.

  “And I’m going to be in charge of donor relations,” Rob added.

  I rolled my eyes, fighting a grin. “Of course you are.”

  “What?” He tugged at the lapels of his blazer. “I’m actually good at all relations, not just carnal ones.”

  I cocked a brow. “You sure about that?”

  “Give me a chance. You’ll see.”

  I closed my eyes, waiting for the burn to subside. “Thank you. Truly. I appreciate you all doing that. But that doesn’t solve the problem of Emily not wanting to be a princess.”

  I heard Rob take a deep breath through his nose.

  “Well. Maybe you abdicate, then.”

  I opened one eye. “You know that means you’ll be next in line.”

  “I know,” he said. “I don’t want the crown anymore than you do. But I’ll take it on if it means making my favorite brother happy.”

  “Hey!” Jack punched him in the shoulder. “I thought I was your favorite brother!”

  “Maybe when you stop cock blocking me.”

  “I don’t cock blo—”

  “Enough!” Jane turned back to me. “What they’re trying to say is, we’re here for you, no matter what you decide. We just want you to be happy, Kit.”

  I took a deep breath, blew out my cheeks. “Abdication is a big deal. A really, really big deal. It’s only happened once, and it caused such chaos people thought the world was ending.”

  “It’s nothing we can’t handle,” Jane said, giving my hand another squeeze. “And who’s to say it will come to that? Emily might surprise you. You won’t know until you ask her. You’ve got to ask her, Kit.”

  Rob looked at me. “So…are you going to do it?”

  “Hell yes he’s going to do it,” Jack said.

  “Please?” Jane pleaded. “Please do it!”

  My heart swelled. It swelled with hurt. Fear.

  Hope. It swelled with hope.

  My family was right. I was absolutely miserable without Emily. I was going to keep being miserable until I got her back.

  Could I get her back? Would I be happy without the future I’d always planned for? I wanted Emily, but I also wanted to remain a part of my family’s tradition—our history.

  I shoved my fears for the future aside. At this point, all that mattered was getting my fucking girl back. Any future with her in it was a good one. A really bloody good one.

  “Yeah,” I said at last. “I’m going to do it.”

  My siblings erupted into cheers. Jane threw her arms around me. Rob called for shots, which Jane immediately refused. Jack found my bottle of vodka and poured them anyway.

  “Under one condition,” I said.

  “Anything,” Rob replied. “You name it.”

  “I need your help planning it. The proposal.”

  Jane looked at me in confusion. “But I thought you already proposed?”

  “I did, but that wasn’t…well. It wasn’t what I wanted to do. I’d like to do it right this time.”

  I wanted to do it for real.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Emily

  One Week Later

  Stallings Castle

  I knew something was wrong the second I pulled up to Stallings Castle. The scaffolding on the outside of the house, usually bustling with workers and noise, was empty. Opening my door, I was met with silence. There wasn’t a single hammer or drill going.

  Furrowing my brow, I checked my watch. I was surprised to see that it was already five o’clock. And was it Friday again? Honestly, the days had begun to blur together. I’d been so busy with work lately I hardly knew my name, much less what day it was.

  So busy, and so bummed. Ever since my heart to heart with Aly and Timothy Bardy (we broke ground on his project in three months, by the way), I couldn’t stop thinking about calling Kit. Some nights I would sit in my apartment and stare at my phone. My heart would pound as my thumb hovered over his number. The thought of hearing his voice again made me sick with longing.

  I always stopped myself just in time. Kit and I had broken up for a reason. He hadn’t called me since that awful night when everything went to shit. So what if I wanted him back? He clearly didn’t want me, and I didn’t want to embarrass us both by begging.

  I’d get over him eventually. At least I hoped I would. The past six months had been hell. And I know you were supposed to keep going when you were going through hell or whatever. But I didn’t know how much longer I could go. I didn’t know how much fight I had left in me. It had been six months, and I missed Kit more than ever. Our relationship had lasted all of a month. According to Cosmopolitan wisdom, that meant I was supposed to be over Kit approximately thirty-six hours after we broke up.

  Hooking my bag over my shoulder, I marched up to the front door. I stopped. I heard something inside. I tilted my head, straining to hear. Was that…music?

  It sounded like an orchestra almost. Like someone was blasting classical music inside the house.

  My stomach clenched. What the hell?

  I climbed the front steps and dug my keys out of my bag. But when I went to put the key in the lock, the door moved in. It was already open.

  “God damn it,” I hissed. “I told them to keep this thing locked
.”

  Sending up a silent prayer that a serial killer wasn’t waiting for me inside, I pushed open the door and stepped into the house.

  “Hello?” I called. My footsteps echoed off the bare walls as I moved into the front hall. “Anyone here?”

  The music started up again, louder this time. As far as I could tell, it was coming from the great hall at the back of the house.

  Goosebumps erupted on my arms as I walked slowly through the front hall, into the dining room, and then into the gallery. The place was a mess. We were in the thick of renovations. I had to step over boxes of tile and piles of misshapen plywood as I moved.

  The music was getting louder. I listened, trying to pick out a tune. My heart began to pound.

  Was that—wait, was this an instrumental version of a Justin Bieber song?

  I shook the thought from my head. I was clearly delirious. When was the last time I ate? I couldn’t remember. I hadn’t been hungry in what felt like years.

  Still, the thought of Justin Bieber made my stomach clench. I couldn’t listen to him anymore. It just reminded me of dancing with Kit. God, Kit had been such a terrible, terrifically cute dancer. Did he dance with the brunette, I wondered?

  I blinked when I nearly tripped over a ladder. Seriously, where was everyone? The guys usually worked until six o’clock at least.

  I walked through the drawing room. The great hall was just to the right. The music was much clearer in here.

  My stomach clenched again as the notes of the song arranged themselves into a familiar tune.

  Oh my god oh my god oh my god.

  It was a Justin Bieber song. My favorite one, too—“Sorry”. The instrumental version sounded pretty and soft.

  I turned the corner into the great hall. My heart was in my throat. And then it exploded when I saw what I did.

  Every inch of the soaring room was draped in twinkling white lights. They hung from the walls, and sloped gently high overhead to form a sort of ceiling. Everywhere I looked, there were lights and more lights. When I walked into the middle of the room, I felt like I’d been shot up into the sky and was walking amongst the stars.