Accidentally Royal_An Accidental Marriage Romance
Page 11
Finally packed, I take a moment to stand by the bed and look down at Piper. She's on her stomach, the sheet crumpled around her exposes the graceful slope of her back and the dip of her waist. Her thick brown locks are spread around her pillow in a mass of curls and tangles, a testament to the wild streak I haven't been able to get enough of the last two weeks.
That thought makes my chest ache painfully. How is it possible that it’s only been two weeks? We packed as much into those days as we could, living them with the constant reminder that time was running out. The deadline was chasing us, and we ran ahead of it with more adventures, more laughter, more sex. It was supposed to be easy. When it was over, we were supposed to just walk away from each other. Now I'm struggling to walk out of the room, much less her life.
I grab a pad of paper and pen from the table in her hallway and write her a note. Until now, we haven't exchanged numbers or any other way of getting in touch with each other. It was by design, meant to isolate the time we had together. I don't want to be cut off from her. The note gives her a way to communicate with me, and maybe we can see each other again. I know she has another trip coming up soon, but when it's over, we can find a way. If I’m not the King of Cambria by then…
Piper,
Please forgive me for leaving this way. I had no choice. Call me. There's something you need to know.
I add my number to the bottom and sign it.
Leaving the note on the nightstand among some of the souvenirs and silly reminders of our adventures together, I lean down to kiss Piper goodbye before rushing out of the house to the car waiting for me.
Piper
I start to wake up, and I roll my hips back like I have every morning, expecting to feel Christian there beside me. Instead, the bed is cold and empty. Rolling over, I look around, trying to listen to see if I can hear him somewhere in the house. An unsettling silence surrounds me, and I notice something has changed about the bedroom. I can't quite put my finger on it, but there's something different from how it was before we toppled into bed last night. Climbing out of bed, I reach for Christian's shirt where he tossed it. When my hand hits the floor and nothing else, the realization of the situation sinks in. Everything of his is gone. Christian isn’t only missing from my bed. Every trace of him is gone. All his clothes, his bags, his shoes, his phone.
He's gone.
He was supposed to be here for three more days. I was going to bring him to the airport, so he could go home and we could part ways. Instead, he disappeared in the middle of the night while I was sleeping. He didn’t even have the decency to let me know he was leaving, much less tell me goodbye. Now I'm standing here in the middle of my bedroom, completely naked, still smelling like his body, and he's long gone. I've never felt so used and thrown away in my entire life.
Grabbing a box from my closet, I go to work stripping my surroundings of any reminder of Christian and the time we spent together. I don't even want to acknowledge he was there. I pull pictures from the edge of my vanity mirror and toss them in the box, followed by the ridiculous t-shirt I bought at one of the tiny roadside tourist stops we found. Finally, I stalk over to the nightstand and use one arm to sweep everything unceremoniously into the box. I don’t even want to look at it. I want it gone, out of my sight.
Yet, I can't seem to bring myself to throw it away. I chastise myself for my sentimentality. I should just toss it out, and forget about it. He was never going to be a permanent fixture in my life, anyway. But I can't do that. Not yet. I might get to a point later on when it's not as fresh and doesn't hurt as much, but for now, I just want it out of my sight. Shoving the box into the back of my closet, I grab clothes and head to the bathroom to shower. At least there I can pretend my tears are just droplets of hot water and nothing more.
Two days have passed, and Tabitha is finally home from her father-in-law’s. I'm sitting in her backyard on the white-painted wooden swing built by my father. It’s anchored in a flower-covered arbor and is one of the few reminders of my father she still has. He made it for her when they first got married so they could sit out in the garden together. They spent countless hours in it together, and when they weren’t using it, I often took it over with a blanket and a good book, enjoying not just the movement, but also what it represented. As abstract as it is, sitting in the swing always made me feel close to my dad and Tabitha, like they were there with me even if I was home alone. When I became an adult, the comfort and reassurance the swing gave me didn't go away either. When my father died, and Tabitha moved out of the house, it was one of the few things she insisted on bringing with her. Though I hated to see the swing go, I knew it was only right for it to be with her. He crafted it with her in mind, and he would want her to continue to enjoy it, even after he was gone. In the early days of Glenn being in her life, I often wondered how he felt about the swing. I couldn't imagine it was easy for him to look out into her backyard, and see this beautiful, heartbreaking reminder of a perfect marriage that was torn apart in an instant.
When Tabitha told me Glenn not only didn't mind the swing, but commented on how well it was constructed, and what a good man my father must have been, I knew he was the right choice for her. It was like my father had picked him to step in and take care of her in his place.
Now I'm curled into the swing, one hand gripping a sweating glass of lemonade while the other picks aimlessly at the seam of my jeans.
"Maybe it's better this way, you know?" she says.
I nod.
"Maybe. I still feel like an idiot. How could I be so stupid?"
"You're not stupid. Why would you say that?"
"I've always been the strong one. I don’t trust people or let them in, and I don’t get hurt. Then I go and act like a fucking middle school girl. I barely even knew the man, and I had him staying with me, in my bed, for some sort of absurd whirlwind vacation. What did I think was going to happen?"
"Piper, not trusting people doesn't translate to strength. Sometimes being strong means being willing to trust, even if you might get hurt."
"But that's the point. I wasn't supposed to get hurt. That wasn't the plan."
"Was crashing into him and falling down in the middle of the airport part of your plan?"
"No, but, again, that's the point. From right then, we knew we weren't going to be a part of each other's lives for long. I didn't think I was going to see him again after taking my panties back. The whole thing was impulsive and ridiculous. It was built on nothing. There was always an end date. It was supposed to be fun, and then end."
"Really?" Tabitha asks, tilting her head to look into my face. "Piper, be honest with yourself for a second. Is that really what you thought?"
"Yes."
She looks at me incredulously.
"You seriously thought you were just going to be able to go about your life and never think about him again after he went back home?"
"Yes."
"So, that's why you had him stay at your house? That's why you brought him to all your favorite places? That's why you took pictures and bought souvenirs? So, you could forget about him?"
I hate that she knows me so well. As an adult, Tabitha is much more of a friend than a motherly figure, but are there are still times that I feel like a little girl when talking to her. I know she's right, even if I won't admit it to her. At least not now. I had fallen for Christian completely and irreversibly. What had started as a game before shifting into incredible sex, had changed into something I hadn't expected, and didn't want. I can't deny that I miss him and that just the thought of being without him hurts so much, it takes my breath away. But I have to remind myself that this is ultimately for the best. It hurts now, but maybe him leaving that way was like tearing off a Band-Aid. It hurt like shit, but it would have hurt so much more if we tried to part slowly. This way, I can use the anger I feel toward him to mask some of the pain. Soon it won't hurt anymore, and I'll be able to move forward with my life like always.
Five weeks later…
This time it means I'm pregnant.
How could this happen? We were so careful every single time. Aren't I the one who gallivants around promoting safe sex, and sprinkling condoms on people? One of the first conversations I had with Christian was about my goodie bag full of don't-get-accidentally-pregnant implements. But here I am, sitting in a clinic in Guatemala, trying to wrap my head around the fact that I'm carrying his baby.
What am I going to do? This is definitely not something I was planning on. I was supposed to come here for the longest trip I've ever done and establish a flagship agriculture program in one of the smaller, more rural communities. This was supposed to be a massive accomplishment for me. I was specifically selected to take part in this program, not only to help with the establishment of the agricultural system, but also to cover a major story on it. How am I supposed to concentrate on either commitment if I'm pregnant?
The doctor smiles at me, and I realize I'm grinning right back at her. My brain might still be having issues processing this new information, and everything that it means for my future, but my heart has already made the most critical decision of my life so far. I'm going to have Christian's baby. This will be my new plan.
Christian
"How is he?"
I look up to see Frederik, a royal advisor who has served my family my entire life, coming down the hall toward me. His face has the calm, controlled expression expected of royal staff. He's not supposed to show any emotion, even at a time like this. But I can see the strain behind his eyes.
"He's doing better," I say. "The doctor was just here, and he said Papa's vitals are looking much stronger. He seems to be stabilizing."
"That's wonderful to hear," Frederik says. "He gave us quite a scare."
I nod.
"I know," I say.
It's been five of the longest weeks of my life since leaving Piper back in the States and coming home to Cambria. I've been dividing my time between sitting at my father's bedside and helping Mother keep up with his responsibilities while he is unable to. It's kept me distracted, but not enough to not think about her. When I do, the emotion of leaving her behind hits me hard. It seems to build up throughout the day when I’m too busy and distracted by my responsibilities to think about her, but the moment she flashes in my mind, it all comes crashing down on me.
"You don't look happy," Frederik says.
"I'm sorry," I say, shaking my head. "I am. I'm happy Papa is doing better. It looks like he’s going to pull through."
"But you're still thinking about that woman back in America."
I let out a long, slow breath as I stare at him.
"Piper," I say. "Her name is Piper."
I start down the hallway, and Frederik falls into step beside me even though I was obviously trying to walk away from him.
"When are you going to get over her, Christian? She hasn't reached out to you at all in over a month. She didn't contact you when she realized you were gone, she didn't call you when she left for her humanitarian trip… she hasn't done anything to reach out to you. Don't you think you should just take the message? It's better this way, in the end."
"How is it better?"
"She's not the woman for you. You know that as well as I do. You need to get married, Christian. To a noble, Cambrian woman. You need to settle down and take your responsibilities more seriously."
"I don't need you to lecture me about what I'm supposed to do," I snap.
"Actually, you do," Frederik says. "That's my job. I’m here to warn you when you're not on the right path. You are many years older than any monarch before you was when they married. You were introduced to countless women, and you rejected all of them, only to run off to the States. Your wild behavior and international reputation for being a playboy might have been endearing when you were younger, but not now. Especially not since Nicholas' death. It's time to get your life together. For the good of the country."
"Frederik… back off," I say, trying very hard to keep myself from lashing out.
I quicken my steps, but he steps in front of me, turning to face me.
"You can't run away from this, Christian."
"Get the fuck out of my way," I growl. "Do not make me tell you again."
The words reverberate off the marble floors and gilded framed pictures of my ancestors adorning the hall, and there is a moment of awkward silence. Frederik steps away from me, and I stalk down the hallway toward my bedroom. I need to get away from everything for a while. I'm furious with Frederik for bringing Piper up. I talked to him about her when I first got back, but I hadn't intended on him using her like a bullet point during a lecture about my future. I know what's looming ahead of me. It hasn't changed since the day Nicholas died. In fact, the reality of it has become much more serious now that my father's health has considerably worsened. Even though he's recovering, and the doctors are somewhat optimistic, it doesn’t change the fact that those first few days, when his survival was uncertain, everything crashed down on me.
This is suddenly much more than just an abstract concept I've been dreading or trying to escape. My father's rapidly declining health was a rude reality check for me, forcing me to face the fact that I will be King much sooner than I previously anticipated. According to Cambrian tradition, in the event of my father's death, as the eldest son, my mother will step down as Queen, and I will ascend the throne. I'm expected to take on the role with honor and dignity, but also with a wife at my side. There has never been an unmarried monarch, with the exception of Kings who were widowed after taking the throne. My parents expect me to choose one of the women they find acceptable, and marry her as quickly as possible, bringing me one step closer to my future role.
Getting married purely for the sake of being a socially appropriate monarch isn't something I have ever been enthusiastic about. In fact, before Nicholas passed, I never wanted to get married. At all. Now, I know it's something I can't avoid. But I can’t help but think about Piper and her role in all of this.
Why hasn't she gotten in touch with me in the last few weeks? We had such a fantastic time together, and I felt like much more had developed between us than either of us had initially prepared for. I thought that meant she would want to maintain our connection in any way possible if only to see where it could take us. Instead, she just disappeared. I've searched for her. I've used all the information I have about her to try to find a way to contact her, but I haven't been able to pinpoint her. It's like she purposely made herself impossible to reach.
I drop down into the chair next to the bay window overlooking the castle grounds. Reaching into my pocket, I take out the small plastic keychain I have carried with me every day since returning to Cambria. I found it when I was unpacking. Piper must have slipped it into my bag the night we got back from our day at the amusement park. She meant it as a surprise for me, not realizing just how soon I'd find it, or how hard it would be to look at. The transparent plastic square attached to the keyring holds a picture of us careening down the hill of the log ride. The water blocks much of us, but I can still see Piper’s wide, genuine smile. My arms are wrapped around her, trying to protect her, but she looks purely delighted by what’s happening.
I don't know when Piper bought the keychain, or why she didn't tell me about it. Maybe she thought I would think it was ridiculous. I wasn’t exactly the most enthusiastic travel companion. Yet, she had been thoughtful enough to preserve that memory for me. Since finding it, I've had it in my pocket every day. Some days I take it out several times just to look at it. Others, it stays exactly where it is and doesn't come out until I throw it in my nightstand drawer before bed. No matter how I feel about it, I can't bring myself to walk out of my bedroom without it.
It drives me crazy to think about her
, and I try to tell myself that Frederik is right. Piper is nothing like the women my parents have chosen for me. She's not cut out for this life. Or this life isn't cut out for her, really. Either way, maybe trying to maintain the connection was a mistake in the first place. It would have meant an even harder time ahead.
Chapter Eleven
Piper
Seven months later…
"How does it feel to be back home after being out in the field so long?"
I look at Stacy, the interviewer, for a few seconds, trying to choose my next words carefully. That's one of those questions that may seem compelling, like it's an opportunity for the interview subject to express themselves, but in reality, it's an utterly open-ended waste of time. Either the interviewee gets so caught up in what they're saying, they lose control and babble incessantly, or they are crippled by the lack of structure to the question and have nothing to say. I try to center my answer somewhere in the middle.
"It's good to be back," I say. "I love my work, and even though this was a particularly exciting, and rewarding project, it's still nice to be back home."
"I see some big changes are coming to your life. Is that right, Piper?"
She's trying to be clever, her eyes flickering to the enormous belly sitting on my thighs. I run my hands over it and nod.