Chapter Twelve #2
His first thought was, naturally, of Astrid. It was impossible that she wouldn’t see these photos. Impossible that she wouldn’t jump to the same conclusion as the rest of the world apparently had. ‘Love Rat’ was trending with his name.
So too were stories around him having let the queen down. And maybe he had. He was the one who’d wanted to change the goal posts midway through their relationship. He was the one who’d fallen in love and challenged her to admit to feeling the same thing. What had she done wrong?
Nothing.
She’d been true to her word.
She’d given herself freely, to a point, but then she’d pulled back, just as she’d told him she would.
And now, he had to live with the fact that she would believe he was sleeping with Maria.
Which was precisely what he’d intended to do, he thought darkly.
Their relationship had always been convenient and casual.
He’d presumed that taking her to bed might give him some perspective, remind him of who he was, but after dinner, he’d walked her to her car, said goodnight with a chaste peck on her cheek and come home to pick up where he’d left off—drinking more scotch than was wise.
Thank God.
He couldn’t imagine knowing Astrid believed he’d moved on if he had in fact done so. At least he had the comfort of the truth.
Which was something, he acknowledged, he probably owed Astrid. Even when she’d shut him down and treated him with glacial disinterest, he knew that had been her protective mechanisms. He knew she cared for him, even if she wasn’t willing to admit that.
Apart from anything, he just didn’t want to be the reason she was hurting. He could manage his own pain, his own sense of rejection, but Astrid deserved better. For Astrid, he’d walk through the fires of hell, if it meant knowing she was happy. Or at least, not unhappy because of him.
* * *
She stared at her phone with an ache in the centre of her chest.
Javier.
Her pulse raced, her mouth dried out, her stomach flooded with butterflies. Her fingertips trembled as she hovered over the screen and then, finally, hit the decline button.
He’d be calling to explain about the photos, to make sure that she wasn’t upset.
Because he was that kind of guy. Decent and honourable.
And he’d cared for her. He’d even thought he loved her.
But love didn’t give way so quickly. Love was not temporary and transient.
It was not something that faded so fast.
She knew because she finally understood what perhaps she’d known all along.
She was mired in a miserable pit of it, loving someone she knew she’d been right to let go, even when it still hurt like anything.
She had fought it, so hard, but that didn’t matter.
She’d fallen in love with someone she could never have. She would never be the same again.
* * *
The twelfth night came and went. Astrid continued to keep up appearances, attending the events that had been scheduled for her, smiling, posing for photographs, receiving flowers.
But as soon as she was back in the sanctity of her limousine, being driven to the palace, the mask slipped and she allowed herself to wallow in grief once more.
To feel and own the sense of loss, to know that it was now a part of her, just like her parents and brother.
How stupid she’d been not to see that.
She’d thought controlling this would lessen the impact. She’d thought that sending him away rather than risking anything happening to him would mean she was safe from heartbreak, but it had found her anyway…
* * *
Astrid stared out at the palace courtyard, wishing it were snowing, instead of the crisp blue sky and weak winter sunshine that made a mockery of her mood. Three weeks into the New Year and if anything, her sense of loss was growing sharper day by day.
Speculation about Javier, and her potential marriage, was everywhere, despite the photos that had emerged of him with another woman. How many women had there been since?
They’d never really talked about his dating history, but somehow she just knew that he wasn’t someone who struggled to pick up women. He’d probably been with several since her. Maybe he was even laughing at himself, for imagining that he could give up his life and move to Norvenheim to be her king?
Her stomach rolled at that, because when she thought of Javier at her side, ruling with her, all of the fear she felt about performing these duties dissipated.
In Javier, she truly felt as though she would have had an equal, someone who could help carry the burdens of her responsibility. Someone who would genuinely ease them.
A tear slid down her cheek, as they so often did.
She pulled her necklace from beneath her dress, to hold it in the fist of her palm.
She’d threaded the butterfly backs of the earrings through the chain, so she could wear the earrings every day and not have it be noticed.
So much of her life was commented upon, but these were hers and hers alone.
A talisman and reminder of something special he’d done for her.
Worn as they were, beneath her clothes, she was able to keep him close to her chest. Her heart.
Another tear slid down and she didn’t stop to check it. There was no point. She knew what she was up against. While she was able to fake serenity for a short period of time, when she was alone in her room she gave into the grief.
She accepted it and could only hope that, in time, she’d make her peace with it.
Or at least learn to live with it. Just as she had the loss of her family.
She’d never gotten over that loss. It was a part of her and she was glad for that.
Holding onto grief was a way of proving love.
And now, she had the loss of Javier to prove to her that she had loved him.
He hadn’t been imagining it and nor had she.
What they’d shared had been truly, beautifully real. And she’d ruined it.
A knock sounded, interrupting her gloom, forcing her to assume at least a mask of calm. She wiped both cheeks quickly and stood.
‘Who is it?’ she called, although she knew that it must be Anja.
‘It’s me, Your Majesty,’ Anja replied.
Anja had seen behind the curtain. She knew what Astrid was going through, even though Astrid had tried to hide it. She’d locked her heart away, trying to stave off this awful pain and yet love had crept in regardless.
‘Come in.’
Anja stepped into the apartment and pretended not to notice the queen’s obvious distress.
‘I’m so sorry to disturb you, Your Majesty. I wasn’t entirely sure what to do. I know today is marked as a private day, with no appointments, but—’
‘I need the day,’ she said, more sharply than she’d intended.
‘Of course, Your Majesty. It’s only—he’s here.’
He’s here.
There was only one man Anja could be referring to. Astrid stared, her jaw dropping, her heart kicking up. She shook her head, the panic gripping her. Fear, too.
‘He’s asked for an appointment. I told him I wasn’t sure—I didn’t know what to say, to be honest. If you’ll forgive me for offering an opinion when none has been requested, I do really think you need to speak to him, ma’am.’
Astrid closed her eyes, swaying slightly. Anja was right. She needed to speak to him. That was exactly it. Not ‘ought to’, but ‘needed to’. As in, with her dying breath, she absolutely had to see him, to speak to him.
‘Yes,’ she said on a rush. ‘Send him up.’
‘Here?’ Anja asked, then quickly backed towards the door. ‘Yes, of course, Your Majesty. He’ll be here shortly.’
Astrid paced from one side of the room to the other, catching a glimpse of herself in a mirror and blanching at the sight she made.
She looked terrible. Hair wild, face pale and blotchy, wearing a simple pair of leggings and an oversized sweatshirt, with bare feet and no make-up.
There was nothing to be done, though. She didn’t have time to change, but she could at least finger comb her hair over one shoulder and pinch her cheeks to bring some colour to them.
And then, she waited, until a moment later, a knock sounded.
This time, it was not Anja, but the man who’d become a piece of her. Who she had been missing and craving with every part of her.
Javier.
Only, she had to remind herself, he was no longer hers. Perhaps he never had been, despite what he’d said.
He strode into the room looking every bit as perfect as always and her gut rolled.
It was like looking at a mirror covered in broken glass.
In the past, she would have walked right into his arms and had that feeling of having come home.
Now, she stood where she was, arms wrapped around her torso to physically keep the distance.
‘Your Majesty,’ he said, dipping his head in an act of deference that physically hurt. Not from him. Never from him.
‘Don’t do that,’ she said, quickly. ‘You don’t bow to me.’
‘Doesn’t everyone?’
‘Not you. Never you,’ she said the words she’d just been thinking aloud. But it was too hard to know what to say next. Her thoughts were so mixed up, her heart all over the place.
‘I’ve tried calling you,’ he said, his words blank of emotion, while she was jumbling with them.
‘I know.’
She looked down at the carpeted floor, ashamed she hadn’t been mature enough to answer. But she hadn’t wanted a ‘dear Jane’ phone call. They were not a couple. He didn’t need to explain his life to her. He didn’t owe her an apology.
‘Is that why you’re here?’ she asked softly, lifting her gaze to his and forcing herself to hold it.
‘You gave me little choice.’
‘You don’t need to explain.’ She fidgeted with her hands now, in a way her father would have immediately reminded her to stop doing. ‘You’re allowed to move on with your life, Javier. I’m not holding that against you.’
‘I see.’