Chapter 38
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Margot
My least favorite place to be in the whole entire world has got to be my current one: in Anna’s office at Politiken, listening to her vent about how useless I am.
“I got a call early this morning,” she shouts, pacing back and forth over the small office’s length. “And would you believe it, it was from His Majesty’s Press Office, calling to officially axe the article that you were apparently, supposedly, theoretically writing for us.”
I slide an inch lower in my chair, my face turning neon pink. My input is not required for Anne’s critique so I just swallow and try to ride it out.
As if I need another reminder that Stellan and I are over. Just thinking about it makes my eyes watery — and I swore that today, six days after we broke up, I wouldn’t dissolve into tears in front of everybody.
Anne turns, pinning me with her dark gaze. “Well? Do you have anything to say for yourself, Margot?”
I suck my lower lip between my teeth and bite down. “No, ma’am.”
She paces the tiny space for a half a minute, her face contorting with anger.
“Of course not. You know, the press office refused to explain why they pulled the plug on this project… but the young woman that called said it was not their idea.” She stops, turning to glare at me again.
“That means that it was your idea, Margot. Is that right?”
I look down at my lap. “It’s very complicated, Anna.”
She laughs coldly. “You know what? Get out of my office before I fire you. As a matter of fact, take some time before you even think about coming back here.”
I think she expects me to stay, to fight with her over my job. But I’m up and out of her office as soon as she says that. I can feel her eyes burning holes in my body as I gather my things.
As I barrel out of the front door, I repress a sob.
No Stellan.
No job.
Paparazzi mobbing the doorway of Pippa’s apartment.
Will I even last here in Copenhagen? Because it sure feels like I have ruined Denmark for myself. Aside from Pippa, I’m essentially alone in a foreign country.
My eyes well up and I dash away my tears as I head toward the river.
“Margot! Wait!”
I turn to see Pippa rushing toward me, looking concerned. She catches up to me and throws her arms around me as I try not to cry.
“This place sucks!” I moan into her hair.
“Oh.” She pets me as one would a cherished dog, caressing my hair. “I’m sorry. You should know that Guy asked me to come down and fetch you. Apparently, he didn’t like the way that Anna handled you at all.”
I allow myself one more whimper, then put some space between us. Pippa offers me a leather satchel, smiling a bit.
“It’s a laptop. He thought you might have an interesting perspective on the royal family, if you feel up to it.”
I take the satchel, adding it to the burden I already carry on my shoulder, including my tote bag. “Thanks.”
She cocks her head, rubbing my shoulder. “Have you eaten anything?”
I nod. “A whole pint of gelato, straight from the container.” My cheeks go pink. “And a cupcake.” I pause. “And a whole loaf of French bread with butter.”
She arches a brow. “I see. Heartbreak apparently makes you eat.”
I nod. “I couldn’t sleep again last night so I just stared at the ceiling and ate a whole block of cheese.”
She grins. “Sadness-induced insomnia coupled with a little fridge binge. Got it. Honestly, I’ve heard of worse things.”
I scrunch up my face. “My stomach hurts.”
“Come over here,” she says, marching me over to a bench and sitting me down. She sits beside me, squinting up into the bright blue sky. “Have you heard anything from him?”
Her question knocks the breath out of my lungs, so I just shake my head. She heaves a sigh.
“Stellan is quick tempered, as I’m sure you’ve found out. But he’s also fair minded. I’m sure if you called him, he would take you back in a heartbeat.”
I pucker up my face like I’m tasting something sour. “That will solve exactly nothing.”
Pippa looks at me out of the corner of an eye, pushing her cheek out with her tongue. “Can I be really blunt?”
I raise my eyebrows. “I thought you already were.”
She makes a face. “I think that this was your first fight.”
I give her my most dubious look. “We fought all the time when I first moved to Copenhagen, Pippa.”
She rolls her eyes. “That doesn’t count at all.
Since you guys have been all lovey dovey, you haven’t been cross with each other.
Then when you did get frustrated with each other, there was so much pressure on him to settle down…
and on you to say yes to being a royal…” She wrinkles her nose.
“It was a powder keg, just waiting for a match to be struck.”
I suck a deep breath in, struggling not to start crying again. “I love him, Pippa. I really do.”
Her hand lands on my knee, rubbing little comforting circles in my flesh. “I know, Mags. I know.”
“It was just an insane amount of pressure,” I admit, putting my bags down on the ground. “I wanted to say yes to him. I really did. But the timeline was all kinds of fucked up.”
“Yes,” Pippa says with a nod. “I think if you two didn’t have to face his upcoming coronation so soon…”
“God!” I cry out, looking heavenward. “That really put a rush on things. I was trying to tell him to slow down… that things were going too fast for me… but I think that he just had so much pressure from his grandmother and his family that he couldn’t hear what I was saying.”
She sighs. “You’re not going to like what I’m about to say.”
I look at her for several long beats. “What?”
“If you really love Stellan, I think you should try to reach out to him.”
“What?” My cheeks heat. “No way! No. He told me not to come back.”
She rolls her shoulders. “Call it the heat of the moment. Wouldn’t it just be tragic if he feels the same way and you never know because you’re both so damn stubborn?”
I make a disgruntled sound. “What if I were to show up at the palace and he doesn’t want to see me? That would be so embarrassing, I don’t even have the words.”
She smirks. “So you do want to try?”
“I didn’t say that!” I protest.
“Okay, but let’s just say that you decide you are willing to give it a go.” She puts up a hand to stop my complaint. “We are just brainstorming here. No harm, no foul. Yes?”
I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “Just brainstorming,” I reiterate. “Just… in case.”
A dimple flashes in Pippa’s cheek. “What if you made like… a grand romantic gesture?”
I scoff. “Like showing up at the airport at the last moment? Isn’t the guy supposed to do that?”
Pippa shrugs a shoulder. “Maybe for other people, yeah. But you? You’re Margot Keane. You’re a rebel. You live by your own rules. And if you want to make a grand gesture, then by god, you can do it!”
I stare at Pippa for a second. “I just realized that you actually believe in me. You are a really good friend, you know that?”
She beams at me. “Duh. I’ve always believed in you, Mags.”
I hug her, sudden and hard. She makes a funny noise at first, but then she relaxes and claps me on the back. When I pull back, Pippa arches a brow.
“So. Shall we make a list of romantic grand gesture ideas?”
I shake my head slowly. “No.”
Her eyebrows rise. “No?”
“I just realized that we work at the main newspaper in the country. Millions of people see whatever gets onto our front page.”
Pippa looks shocked for a second. “Are you suggesting what I think you are?”
I squint at her. “Maybe. I mean, my words will almost definitely reach Stellan. And if it works, I am sure the Politiken editors will forgive me.” I wrinkle my nose. “Right?”
She looks a little unsure. “If it doesn’t work, Margot… if you publish a personal letter addressed to Stellan in a public paper…”
I wince. “I would have to leave the country.”
“Yeah, that would be the least of your worries.”
“So… I’ll have to make my letter really good,” I say, taking a deep breath. “Oh god. Am I really going to do this? Agh! Where would I even begin?”
Pippa’s lips curve upward and she slides me a knowing glance. “Start at the beginning.”
She picks up the leather satchel, opening it to reveal the laptop inside. Then she stands, tucking her glorious red hair behind her ears.
“I should get back to my own work,” she says with a sigh. “Good luck. Call me when you need help.”
“Thank you, Pippa.” I crack open the laptop and open a blank word processing document. “Start at the beginning. I can do that…”
Typing out the first line, I start the scariest letter I will probably ever write.