Royal Hearts (Love At The Lake #2)

Chapter 37

Thirty-Seven

CAT

“ W hy are you doing this to yourself, Kitty-Cat?” Frannie brings me yet another cup of tea. Packages are arriving almost daily: fuzzy socks that say girls run the world , a Twining’s Tea assortment in a woven basket with matching jams, face masks, and tube of NARS Dragon Girl red lip stain—because she gets me.

I turn to her and sniff, a box of extra soft, extra lotion-infused tissues in my lap. “I can’t look away.” We’ve been through eight boxes, already. Yes, I’m counting.

“Here,” she hands me a jar of Vaseline fresh from a delivery bag, “You’ve got clown nose.”

“Gee, thanks,” I groan, but I slather the stuff on my nose and cracked lips gratefully.

Winter has a monumental speech to give. I had to tell him to go, and I couldn’t sort through my feelings fast enough to give him anything other than a goodbye. But it hurts .

“So, what is BBC saying?”

“That he’s the prodigal son returned. Even after being basically forced to abdicate, he’s chosen to return and his people are applauding him. I don’t believe they ever hated him. I think that was the work of some really shitty PR on the Crown’s team with ulterior motives.”

“Anything about . . . um . . . you?” Fran dances on her toes in fuzzy socks and a t-shirt of John’s, asking the hard question like the good sister she is, but afraid of me a little, too. I have not been pleasant these past few days.

I snort a laugh. “The American who shall not be named that,” I use my fingers sarcastically to make angry air quotes, “ broke his heart and wasn’t even a contestant , has not been mentioned. Allyn says the Danes were rooting for us.”

“There’s still rumblings of a Wincat reunion,” she mutters and when I glare at her she adds, “Just saying. Let’s turn this off and go for a walk or something.” Frannie swipes at the remote but I hold it close to my chest.

“Shhh,” I say dramatically, my tea sloshing in my cup, “It’s starting!”

Winter takes the stage somewhere in Demark, a royal flag behind him, and begins a scheduled speech to his people. “Thank you all for joining me today.” He speaks in Danish then clears his throat, looking dashing in a navy pea coat and button down, gray sky behind him, clouds bracketing him like bookends. “There’s been much speculation as to my intentions on the throne,” he pauses, “for years now.” He goes on in English because this is airing internationally. The crowd chuckles, a mix of locals and media who’ve watched him grow up most likely. “This,” he waves a hand, “the part where I speak to you publicly, has never been my forte.” He clears his throat again and I watch his thumb graze a bandage on his wrist under the sleeve of his coat.

It’s wrapped with a thin piece of gauze, and I wonder . . .

“Oh my God,” I whisper, dropping my tea to the table, knowing full well what that bandage must be covering. It’s in the exact spot where I always drew a heart to give him something to focus on when he got nervous. Did he actually tattoo it permanently?

Come with me . . .

“What?” Frannie puts a hand on my thigh as I sit rapt, crisscross-applesauce, listening to a prince who stole my heart make a speech about what he wants to do with the rest of his life.

Tears stream down my cheeks. I’ve never cried like this. When is dehydration going to kick in, already?

“So, today I’ll keep it short and sweet. Many of you have heard rumors of my abdication, or forced abdication. While it is true my parents and I have never seen eye to eye, I’m willing to admit my part in not—” he pauses, searching for words or courage, and I suck in a breath. I wish I was there. “Not being exactly what the crown needs.” He glances down at his wrist, touches the gauze ever so slightly, and looks back up. Determination crosses his handsome face. “It’s you, the people, and the country that I’m passionate about. You are important to me. So important, in fact, that I’ve risked quite a bit to be here today. It is therefore my pleasure to announce I will act as advisor and mentor to my cousin, Elias. He will be good for our country. And I will be right behind him, supporting him every step of the way. I will not waiver, and I will not leave.”

A wracking sob moves through my chest. This is how it was meant to be. This is how he was meant to be a part of his heritage without it eating away at who he is and what he wants. He’s found a way to be both, and I am so happy for him.

He looks so strong up there .

“Cat.” Fran wraps an arm around my shoulders as I draw a jagged breath. “What can I do?”

Tears continue to fall. There’s so much left unsaid between us and I wonder if we’ll ever get to say it. I wonder if he hadn’t had a plane to catch, would he have stayed? Would I have heard him out? I’ve already risked my heart for him once, but Come with me . . . echoes in my ears .