Royal Hearts (Love At The Lake #2)

Chapter 36

Thirty-Six

WINTER

“ W inter, we need to finish. There’s reaction shots to get on the mountain, and then an interview down at the lodge.”

“I need to follow her?—”

“After,” Marco urges. “Please, man, don’t do this to me. This is my job on the line.”

Deep in my chest, under this fucking restrictive tux that’s suffocating me, I’m buzzing with weight and worry. It’s like the snowmobile is still idling next to me. If I shut my eyes and pretend, I can almost feel her face in my hands, her eyes looking up at me and not believing a word coming from my mouth.

I need to follow her . Nothing feels right, everything is upside down, my heart starts to pound and I feel an anxiety attack coming on, but I push it down with a gulp.

“Winter, man, come on. You can go after her once we wrap.” Marco’s hand is on my forearm and I let him drag me back up the mountain. A heart is smoldering against the backdrop of a night sky, cameras are everywhere, stage lights they hauled up here not giving enough light.

Lexi wraps her arms around her middle in a white dress, “What happened?” The words barely register.

“I,” I run my hands through my hair, searching for the answer I barely understand myself. “She didn’t know about Denmark . . .”

“Oh, so she heard Denmark and that equaled?—”

“I don’t know? She’d mentioned wanting to see Denmark. I just assumed she’d come with me.” Lexi doesn’t have the answers I’m looking for, but she offers me a kind smile while cameras snap pictures of us in front of a burning heart.

I didn’t have the chance to talk through what I’m planning with Elias, because it’s all still up in the air. But she has to know, it all includes her.

She feels blindsided—I should have seen that coming. She needs solid, she needs safe, I’m such a fucking moron . . .

Still.

I cannot believe she left.

“Hey,” Lexi’s voice is closer now and I blink, realizing we’re seated next to each other on a log in front of the igloo where we faked the worst romance in history. I’m on autopilot, hardly registering what’s going on around me, moving through the motions asleep on my feet. Caught in a nightmare. “They’re going to ask us more questions. What do you want to say?”

“What?” I’m stunned and I can’t snap out of it. I cannot accept that this is reality. This is not how things were supposed to end. I’ve envisioned our life together, I was building toward everything I want, and so close to finally getting it.

“Do you want to stick with the plan?”

The plan was to let the media have their heyday. Let my people, those watching in Demark who were hoping I’d turn into an upstanding gentleman follow through on a promise. Then going to Denmark to give a formal speech announcing my abdication, my full support and mentorship of Elias, and spending the rest of my life with Cat Bloomfield—wherever that life may take us.

I can only hope I can still convince her to do just that.

“Yeah. Let’s, uh, stick with the plan.” I don’t know what else to do. If I throw a fit now, let my heart shred right here in the snow, I ruin this show and the livelihoods of a lot of people.

“Shit,” Marco says, from somewhere far away, or maybe he’s right next to me. “There’s not enough light. We need to move the interview people!”

The crew makes their way to the bottom of the mountain and we all convene in the tight space that is The Elk Room for interviews. I look everywhere as I’m ushered in by Streamflix people, but I don’t see her.

Liam is at the front desk, sees my face, and immediately grimaces. “Denmark? You should have told her, man.” Seems I’m on his shit list now, too. Cat must have been here and have left already.

Stupidly, I pray she’s not. Maybe she’s in her room and I can run to her the second this circus lets go of me. The second I’m released from this final cage. What will I say?

Why did you leave me when I needed you most? We’re so close to having it all . . .

“Winter?” Marco says. “This is Madison from Entertainment Now. She’d like to ask you some questions that’ll post to all their media outlets once the finale airs.”

Boom mics lower over our heads as Lexi and I take a seat at the conference table, covered in a red tablecloth and flowers, a leftover Christmas arrangement.

“Sure,” I look into the lights trying to make out the face in front of me, but the cameras are pulled in tight now and the room is suffocating. I rub my eyes, willing them to adjust, willing them not to appear glassy, and press my thumb into the spot where Cat’s heart should be.

We stopped drawing them weeks ago because I’d grown so accustomed to having her by my side, I’d reach out and hold her hand when I needed her. We’d evolved, we’d grown together, I didn’t need that crutch anymore but . . .

I need her now.

I can’t believe she walked away.

The next day, I check our mailbox, now with a little plaque that reads Gingerbread Cottage , but it’s empty. I’m trying to give Cat the space she asked for, the time to think she needs, but every minute that ticks by makes me feel more and more like I’m losing her for real. Indefintely.

I think of writing to her. I have so many questions.

The guys watched me pace the floors of the cabin most of last night, and I know Fran took care of Cat, saying they needed a sister night and she’d talk to me in the morning.

Not telling her about Denmark was a mistake. I realize it might not mean much to someone else, but it means a lot to her. She has to give me a chance to explain. I need her to let me in.

Stubborn girl.

I know she can see me loading my car, and I bite back anxiety over boarding a plane before I get to speak with her. I leave for Denmark in mere hours. The little log house we lived in for over a month together feels like a fever dream. Did any of it even happen?

My gaze pulls back to the back door of John and Fran’s house. Faintly, I can make out two silhouettes. Cat and Fran, both in leggings and socked feet. I think Cat is holding a mug of tea.

The door cracks and my prayers are answered when she comes running out in her black puffer coat and boots .

“Winter, wait,” she yells, slowing to a stop with a weary look on her face. “I wanted to say goodbye.”

“Have you gotten my texts? I don’t want to board this plane Cat, but Elias is depending on me. My travel details came through late yesterday, and my speech is scheduled. I have to go but I don’t want to go without you.”

I look past her at the lake. It hurts too much to see the disappointment on her face.

She follows my gaze, and considers her words as she chews on her lip. I want to press my fingertip into her cupids bow. “Listen, the show was a lot. My life is here. I know you’ve got things to clean up with your family, and I wanted to wish you luck. I want nothing but the best for you, Winter.” She’s so calm, as if we’re sitting in an office meeting.

“Cat,” my voice cracks with emotion as I reach out to her. But she’s shut down completely. My hand drops, empty, but I still try. “Come with me.”

“I can’t,” she shakes her head and shifts on her feet. “I can’t just up and leave, Winter.”

“You could if you wanted to.” I want to rage, I want to sob, yet I can do nothing but stand here in the snow and plead with her.

“That’s not fair. We helped each other a lot, you and me, let’s be grateful for that. Be safe, okay? Take care of yourself.” And then, she’s gone. Back into John’s house.

I stand there, willing her to open the door again. But a curtain falls closed and I lose sight of her.

I take one last look at our mailbox on the lawn with about three inches of snow packed on the roof since I last checked it. There’s a letter in my pocket I’ve been debating leaving for her. Somehow reverting to our old way of communication, all the way back to square one is too much to bear.

She’s right, it hurts too damn much. It feels like defeat, like one more failed attempt at loving something, only to find it doesn’ t love me back.

The letter stays where it is, and I slide into the driver’s seat. If she wanted to come with me, she could. There’s nothing holding her back.

But I have a country waiting for me.

So, I’m going back to where I came from.

I’m going back to where I belong.