Royal Hearts (Love At The Lake #2)

Chapter 32

Thirty-Two

CAT

W inter insisted on continuing to film Royal Hearts , and Streamflix was more than happy to sign a new contract even without an actual prince. Who cares about the fine print when the show is eighty percent finished? Everyone’s convinced if it leaks to the press it will drum up even more interest in the show, which is great for syndication. I’m not convinced, but this isn’t my project and I’m not running this team. I’m just the PA.

He had every reason to walk away.

It’s been over a week of watching Winter on dates with Lexi H. And Lexi A. from Alabama. We’ve actually come to be friends, they’re both on this show for reasons that have nothing to do with Winter, and I think they’re both realizing most of the rumors about the prince and the PA are true.

Mandy did get quietly removed from the show for breach of contract to no one’s surprise and to the delight of internet trolls everywhere. All the while Winter’s been pulling me into closets, or into my room at the lodge every chance he gets. My new favorite thing is sneaking kisses behind Christmas trees. But he’s sad and even more introverted on set most days, likely because his parents wrote him off over a cup of tea.

Tonight is our first official night on vacation. We won’t pick up filming again until after Christmas, and I’m ready to put it all out of my mind. Winter needs a break, too. He’s close to burning out from all the interviews, filming, and unavoidable scrutiny—I know the signs.

It doesn’t take long for me to slip into a thin, black knit dress with long sleeves after a soak in a cranberry tub. The dress is tight and goes all the way to my ankles with Prada boots. I toss on my puffer coat after dabbing lavender oil behind my ears, the one Winter got me. It feels like being eaten by a cloud and I love it.

At the door where I’m meeting a car sent from Vikingstrong to pick me up, I pull Annie’s mittens on my hands and take a look around the lodge. The room is glowing with holiday cheer, families making their way to The Nook for dinner, couples perched at the bar for their après-ski. The room is filled with one-week-till-Christmas-cheer. Everyone is settled. And I think I am, too. For the first time in my life I feel very much like I belong here. Funny, I can’t live in a hotel the rest of my life, but I could see myself moving here to be close to Frannie. Working remote when Royal Hearts wraps. Hell, Willow could move here, too. We could get a place. I could be close to?—

Wait—what am I thinking? The city girl moving to the small town for a man? Could I get more cliché?

Do I care?

The car ride is soft and quiet and leather-scented. Tonight Winter is throwing a Christmas crew party. What everyone else doesn’t know is it’s also his farewell to Vikingstrong. He’s moving out in a few days .

Annie answers the door with knitting in her hands, as if she’s a mom welcoming a few classmates to a basement party.

“Hello dear, he’s downstairs,” she says kindly.

“Thanks, Annie.”

“I’ll miss him with my whole heart, you know,” she adds, closing the door softly behind me. “But I miss Skagen, my family, my culture.”

Something about her face, the love in her eyes, makes it impossible not to believe her. Still, I’m a little disappointed in her for abandoning him now. Even if she’s been wishing to move on with her life, which would be completely acceptable, but does it have to be now, when the Crown has abandoned him?

“You know, it’s because of you,” she says, maybe reading the look on my face.

Me?

“We’re not—” I start to wave my mitten-covered hand then stop in my tracks, the visual halting my words. We are, I just need to be strong enough to see it through.

“He loves you.”

“No. He doesn’t.” I shake my head vigorously as if her words might tumble out of my ears and I won’t have heard them.

But maybe he could?

“Oh, dear. I see this won’t be easy for you. But I wouldn’t leave if I didn’t believe you’d take good care of him. Go on now, go find our boy and make sure he’s alright. It’s been a tough few weeks for both of you, I know.”

“Wait, how do you know I’m right for him? You don’t even know me, not really, not enough to make that statement.” For once in my life I wish I could be the kind of girl who accepted kind words, but I can’t, not when the logical side of me is screaming not to believe them. They can’t possibly be true.

“I heard what you said to the family, to the Crown. Wish I had it on recording,” she laughs and slaps a hand over her mouth and quickly sobers as if she’s afraid the Crown might be listening, maybe they are. “I promise, he’s on his way to being the happiest he’s ever been. It’s just taken him a little work—and finding you—to get there. That’s all I need to know. And you’ll come to visit,” she winks.

“Annie,” I hesitate because I’m not yet sure what I want to ask her. “What . . . what does he need?”

A slow smile crosses her face. “Love. Love is all he needs.” Humming a tune, she returns to the living room and kicks up her feet with her knitting. A mom, waiting patiently upstairs in case the basement party gets too rowdy.

My head is spinning as I follow glowing lights built into a winding staircase that takes me a few levels down to the basement. When I turn a corner, I realize why, this isn’t a normal basement. Not the rec rooms filled with ping-pong tables and hand-me-down couches I remember from parties as a kid, or even the grimy studio hangouts in the Bay Area from my twenties.

The ceilings are vaulted, dotted with numerous chandeliers turned down low. There are an uncountable number of Christmas trees in solid jewel tones clustered in corners and sleek, low-profile furniture for chatting with speckled fur throws. A long stone bar runs the length of one wall with keg pulls and shiny glasses.

And then I see him, backed by colored lights bouncing somehow in sync while Brenda Lee encourages us to rock around the Christmas tree. He’s wearing a fur coat, bare chest, leather pants, black nails.

And he’s smoking?

So he’s still sad, or in revenge mode. Well, I’m not having it.

I stomp toward him, happy to be in boots in case he needs a swift kick in the ass.

“It’s not mine, Mom, I swear,” he jokes, as he no doubt clocks my mood. I hate that he can read my expression so easily, but I’m also not trying to hide it.

“I don’t care if it is.” Lie. “Still, getting back at your parents with lung cancer is a slow route to revenge.” He huffs and looks away as smoke curls toward the ceiling between us.

Is this what real intimacy is? Knowing the good, the bad, and the ugly in someone, and loving them anyway? Because I do love him. I know it in this second, oddly. It’s impossible for all this caring and worry not to be love. This exact moment might not be the most romantic, but it is real.

He may no longer be a prince, but he’s the epitome of entitlement standing in front of me. He may have lost his title, but the man will never lose his edge, his essence, that thing that makes everyone in the room want to stare at him. It’s a shine, glowing even when he’s in a dark mood.

But I can’t stand letting their rejection eat away at him. And I won’t let him sink into his sadness.

He hands the cigarette to a buddy who was bent over tying his boot. “Thanks, man,” he says, before wandering into the crowd.

“Don’t hate me because I care about your health,” I say, chin up. I don’t care if he knows how much I care about him. In fact, I decide at this moment to tell him everything.

“I don’t hate you, Bloom.”

“No?” I smile despite myself, “Good. Because I happen to care about a lot of things regarding you these days.”

He returns my smile and I’m pleased I put it there. “And I’m finding I care quite a bit about you, too.”

“Do you want to talk? Or are you going to sulk bare-chested in fur all night?”

His lips tip up, curling into a wide grin. “You gonna do something about it?” he smiles, eager for my comeback.

“I’m not afraid to tell it how it is, pretty man.” Whatever game we’re playing, I think I like it, and if it cheers him up I like it even more. “Be careful what you wish for.”

Something in my chest twists as he drags his fingertips down my cheek and tips my chin up. “You mean, like when you told my parents where they could shove it? I think they’re still in shock. I talked to my cousin, he said my mom can’t stop talking about a feisty American PA that’s stolen me away from the Crown. ”

“You liked that, huh?”

“I like everything that goes on inside that head of yours.” He gulps and presses on, “I love everything about you.”

“That’s a big thing to say to a girl in the middle of a crowded room.” I drag my thumb across his bottom lip as it pouts.

“The crowd part, I can remedy.” Tugging me gently by the elbow through clumps of people, we both give our friends in a corner a wave. Along with the cast, everyone is ignoring us. Giving us space. I think they all know what’s going on, and I think they all know we need some time before we explain ourselves.

Off hours are off hours.

We turn a corner by the bar and move at a clip down a dark hall. The music fades, and it gets quieter and quieter as we disappear from the party.

“Where are we going? I came here for a basement party and to see two dudes fall for each other in real time,” I tease, almost tripping over my boots to keep up with him.

“Robbie and Liam, right? They’re already in the guest room.” He winks at me over his shoulder.

“Where are we going if the guest room is occupied?” He’s pulling me so excitedly now, as if he doesn’t want to waist a second.

He pushes through a heavy door and flips a switch. The room glows around the edges with track lighting, our dark reflections appear in mirrors along with a bunch of fitness equipment. We’re in a gym.

“I just want to be with you, I don’t care where. Do you?” he asks honestly.

“No.”

It happens quick, he pushes me up against a mirror and I turn my head instinctually, my breath foggy on the glass, giving him access as he licks across my jawbone, tugging at the sleeves of my long dress.

“What are you wearing?”

“It’s a dress—” As much as I want this, he doesn’t quite seem himself.

“I hate this dress,” he groans, pulling at the high neckline, tugging at the long sleeves.

I push him back. “Winter, wait.”

He stumbles a few feet and drops to a weight bench behind him. I’m momentarily stunned, cold from the loss of his touch. I only meant to say?—

“It’s too heavy,” he shouts at the floor.

“The weights?” I look around, already breathing hard from the knowledge of what we were about to do, knowing he’s not talking about a workout. It was a stupid thing to say, to try and break the tension.

“I thought the weight of the Crown was too much, heavy is the head and all.” He rubs at his ribcage and I bite down on my lip so my eyes don’t turn glassy from emotion. “But now, it’s gone. I got exactly what I wanted. Instead of feeling light, it’s heavier than ever before.” He looks up at me with searching eyes. “I thought I was alone then, and now, I’ve really got nothing. I am nothing.”

“You don’t have nothing,” I breathe. “You have me.” It’s a risk, saying those words. We’ve never talked past hiding our relationship from the show. But it feels right, and I keep pushing myself to open up fully to him. “And you are not nothing without the Crown.”

“But that’s all I ever was to them. Now that it’s gone, what worth do I have?”

“Winter,” I want to go to him but I stay where I am, back against the mirror. I’m not sure how to help him right now, but I search for the right words anyway. “I think you should quit the show.” This is not in my best interest, that’s for sure, but it’s in his. I can weather the storm of the show not going well. Brand Hub could weather the storm.

He laughs darkly. “The last thing I would do is quit the show, quit on you. Not when we’re a week from the finale. I would never do that to you, or my country. They need to see me finish what I started.”

“I don’t care about that,” I gulp, my throat dry, realizing my words are truth. Brand Hub would get over it; if we got a bad rep in the industry for not fulfilling a contract, I’d find a way to fix it. “I care about you. Tell your parents you’ll quit filming, and talk to them. Maybe you can’t mend it completely. I know your history with the Crown runs deep, but maybe you could come to an understanding you could live with?”

“No,” he shakes his head at the floor, “I don’t want to be their puppet anymore.” He snorts. “I was not raised the same way you were. We’re not a democracy in my family.”

“Then make them see where you’re coming from. Give them a chance to see it your way, and if it doesn’t work out, we’ll figure it out.”

“We?”

“We.”

He looks up at me with hooded eyes. “Cat, you and I both know when the show is over, you’ll be gone. There is no we.” His thumb presses into his wrist. There’s no heart there. I haven’t drawn one recently because we haven’t been filming, but still, he presses lightly on the exact spot.

I take a deep breath and swallow the queasiness and fear that his words mean he doesn’t want me. “Only if that’s what you want.” Annie’s words ring in my ears, all he needs is love . I love him. I just don’t know if he’s ready to hear it.

“What are you saying?”

It takes everything I’ve got to tell him the truth once and for all. “I want to try. To be with you. Now, and after the show. If that’s what . . . ”

He looks up at me with eyes so full of desire it stalls my words.

Then I watch, as he slides slowly off the bench onto his knees.