Only to realize she was in love with a man who lived for public adulation.
“You’ve seen it, haven’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Did I hurt you?” Sorrow laced itself around the question.
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.” She did know. She could almost feel his apology and regret.
“Here’s the thing, E. I can’t make what I did better. Even when we were in the middle of it, I knew it would hurt you. The fundamental difference is, I think of that moment with fucking joy. I’d just won the Cup, and there you were, presenting me with the medal. I don’t think I can even describe my feelings. It should be the picture definition of rightness. I wasn’t just happy I’d won; my whole world was right when I lifted you up and spun you around. It wasn’t any of the affection I wanted to shower you with. If you were just a girl and I were just a guy, I would have spun you around and then kissed you until the stadium emptied and we were the only two people left. It would have been the most public claiming to have ever occurred in the history of the world. If experts were to study the picture and our body language, they would know. So, I don’t know … if re-creating it makes other people happy, if it’s a feeling others aspire to, what’s it matter?
“We’ve avoided the issue of us for the last four weeks. Hell, since the second we met, we’ve avoided it. Maybe we both thought it was too soon, too crazy, that there were too many differences between us. But you’re about to come home. And I want … I want … bloody, bloody hell,” he whispered. “I want you in the most public way. I don’t want to hide; I don’t want to pretend. I want the whole of the world to know that T-Dav has fallen for Princess Eleanor. And I want you, Ele, to know that I have fallen for you. I am yours.”
Tears gathered in her eyes and then spilled over, coasting down her cheeks, unchecked. She wanted to be brave more than anything in the world.
“I am willing to give up the social media thing. I’ve discovered the acceptance of one woman trumps the whole world’s adoration. But it wouldn’t make you immune. Being with me will be public. And me being with you will be public. We cannot escape it. This is the part that will be hard for you to accept right now, but I need you to hear me. Ready?”
She sniffled.
“Fuck, you’re crying.” He groaned, but she knew it was directed inwardly, not at her. “Are you ready to hear this?”
“Yes.”
“I will protect you. Your safety and peace of mind will always come first.”
More than anything, this was what she’d wanted to hear. And that he knew that … well, of course he did. But she didn’t speak. She didn’t tell him anything.
“Okay, you know where I stand. I am so sorry about the photo. Take some time. Come home.”
At her murmured understanding, Tristan disconnected. Ele sat with her head in her hands, tears still leaking from her eyes. She knew where she wanted to stand. She just wasn’t sure her legs were sturdy enough.
35
29 November
Chicago
Ele placed the last of her clothes in the suitcase and shut the lid. The click of the buckle fastening echoed in her mostly empty apartment. She was so conflicted over her impending trip. Undoubtedly, Ele was looking forward to going home. No matter the cock-up awaiting her, her future included, she missed the familiarity of her country, and she missed her family. But there were so many decisions waiting for her too.
Going home meant facing Robert’s absence in real time. Here, she could just pretend he wasn’t with her because of other obligations to the crown. But when she walked back into the palace she shared with Jamie, she would be smacked with his abandonment.
And then there was Tristan. Over the last few weeks, he’d become her confidant, her closest friend. In America, she could keep him in the safe little box, tucked away without any chance of succumbing to her infinite desire for him. But now, she needed to come to some decision about being with him, and currently, her fears were winning.
She sat heavily on the edge of the bed. Rubbing her hands down the soft denim, she almost startled. Rising, she walked to the full-length mirror and stared. Then, she laughed, her hand across her mouth as she tried to hold it in. But she couldn’t. There was no way she could board a plane, headed for home, dressed as she was. Her hair was swept up in a high ponytail. The purple tips had faded gradually, so they were hardly visible. Her eyes were lined with a brown pencil Beatrix would likely break in half and stomp on when Ele placed her accessories bag back into Beatrix’s hand. She’d covered her freckles with a foundation she’d purchased at a local CVS. Mirth filled her expression, and she was struck suddenly by the person reflected back at her. The lower half of her body was encased in jeans, which would have been fine, except for the dozens of rips up and down her legs. And while she was wearing a perfectly acceptable white oxford shirt, she’d tied it up when she was packing. On her feet were a pair of white Chucks because, apparently, in Chicago, they were her thing.
She returned to her suitcase, opened it, and rummaged through it for something more princess-like. Locating a pair of trousers and a cashmere V-neck sweater, she started to change.
A knock at her door confused her. Glancing at her watch, she paused. The car service was still an hour out. Immediately on guard, she placed her clothes on the bed and stepped to the door of her room. Maybe whoever it was had made a mistake.
When a second knock sounded, Ele walked carefully through the small hallway and then stopped next to the phone on the desk. Picking it up, she crept closer to the door. She peered through the peephole, and with a jolt, she stepped away. Her hand flew to her heart, and tears gathered in her eyes.
“Ele, Your Highness, open the door.” Robert’s voice washed over her as her heart fluttered unevenly in her chest.
She missed him so much. She wanted to fling open the door and throw herself into his arms, but she was also mad as hell. She let the tears fall unevenly with no meter or rhythm.
He tried the knob, and when it didn’t give way for him, he muttered, “Attagirl.”
She almost laughed. She knew if Robert wanted to get in bad enough, a flimsy lock wouldn’t stop him. And it was that realization that made others tumble around in her head. Robert could have walked in. He could have surprised her at any point. Instead, he had come to her door and knocked. Some of her anger faded.
“I’m pissed as hell,” she said.
There was a small bang on the door. She imagined his forehead leaning against the tough wooden barrier. “Aye.”
Without any conscious thought, she reached out and flipped the three locks. She pulled the door open, and there he stood. He didn’t look anything like the man who had saved her life all those years ago and protected her ever since. Gone was his tailored suit and starched shirt, his blue or gold or blue-and-gold-striped tie, his loafers that looked impossible to run in but didn’t stop him from sprinting when he needed to. His face was covered with a well-groomed beard, and his hair was no longer military-length. But the watchful eyes, those were exactly the same.
She backed up, an unspoken invitation to enter. He took a deep breath and walked in. Ele closed the door, and they faced each other. He did a quick perusal of her person, and a jaunty smile peeked out on his face before he hid it behind his familiar stoic mask.