Chapter 25
“I don’t love you, Knox.”
Her words hit me like a bucket of ice water, shocking me to my core and stealing the breath from my chest.
She didn’t love me. Whether what she said was the truth or simply the only truth she was willing to accept, it didn’t matter. If she wasn’t going to let me in, I wasn’t going to push her.
Instead, I turned on my heels and walked away from the woman who had stolen my heart but wasn’t willing to fully give me hers.
I strode to a door across the small sitting room, hoping it would lead me back to the party. Even better if it just led me the fuck out of there entirely. An eerie calmness settled over me as I turned the handle, pulling the door closed behind me as I left the room.
Despite the many hours I had spent in Lexington Manor over the years, I had never committed the home’s layout to memory, so I was annoyed to find myself in a dark hallway that led to the back stairwell—certainly not to the billiards room.
“Fuck,” I muttered, pausing for a moment, turning back toward the sitting room. I would wait a few minutes for Birdie to return to the party and then sneak out the back by the kitchen.
As I realized that the door hadn’t latched behind me and was cracked open—fuck these old buildings—I heard an all-too-familiar voice address Birdie on the other side.
“He’s right, you know.”
Oliver. Shit. My heart stopped just at the thought that he had overheard us.
I peered through the crack in the door to see Birdie whirl around. “Oliver! What do you mean?”
“You know exactly what I mean,” he said, his tone tired and his eyes steely. “You’re only fooling yourself if you think you don’t have feelings for him.”
Shit, shit, shit.
“Oliver, I don’t know what you heard, but it’s not what you think.”
Oliver shook his head, a wry grin splitting his face. “Birdie, it’s exactly what I think. For fuck’s sake, who do you think has been coaxing the two of you together all these weeks?”
My jaw dropped as Birdie sank onto the edge of an armchair, ice in her voice. “What?”
“You remember the day I gave you that tour of the palace?” Oliver said, leaning his hip against the back of a couch.
“Of course,” Birdie answered.
“I could see it then even if neither of you could. Your attraction to each other was clear to me, and that was the day I knew you and I would never be romantically involved.”
“Then why didn’t you send me home?”
“And break my best friend’s heart? Birdie, Knox’s loyalty to me is unparalleled. I knew he’d never admit to me how he felt about you, so I decided to see what happened with a few…nudges.”
“Nudges,” Birdie said, her tone flat.
“Who do you think put your name down for Knox at the silent auction?”
I rubbed my face with my hands. That bastard. He continued, “I also made sure that you were in his group for the tree cutting.”
“I suppose you also slipped me bananas the other day.” The tight line of her shoulders and the bite to her words told me exactly how she felt about this conversation.
“God, Birdie, no! I would never do that! But I won’t lie and say that I didn’t hope having Knox take you to his cottage might encourage something to happen.”
Birdie stood, her hands clenched at her sides. “Oliver, you had no right to interfere like that.” I wasn’t sure I disagreed with her.
“Birdie, I’m sorry, but—”
Birdie’s hand flew up, cutting him off. “No, Oliver. No ‘buts.’ I don’t care if you’re the prince or king or fucking emperor of the universe, you had no right!
Maybe you should have spent your time advocating for yourself instead of going along with this stupid contest when you clearly don’t even want to get married right now anyway! ”
“Excuse me?” Oliver said, coming to his full height.
“Oh, don’t take that ‘I’m royalty’ tone with me.
I know you’ve convinced yourself you’re protecting Rosie by martyring yourself, but I think we both know that’s a load of bullshit.
You’re the fucking Crown Prince; if you don’t like the law, work to change it!
If you don’t want to be king, step down like Xavier did!
You have options, Oliver—far more options than forcing yourself to marry someone you barely know just because an old, dead relative said you had to.
Buck the fuck up and stand up for yourself and future generations in all of this. ”
Oliver’s eyes widened. “You don’t know anything about Wexstone—”
Birdie cut him off again. “Yeah, well, right now I’m not sure I want to. I’m out. I’m getting on the next plane home. Have a nice life, Oliver.”
“Birdie, wait—” Oliver started as she stormed past him and out the door. My stomach clenched and my head reeled. I sank to the floor, putting my head between my knees.
“See, I knew I did it for your own good,” a sickeningly sweet voice said from beyond the door where I still hid. Jesus H. Christ, would this night never end?
Oliver’s voice turned cold. “Renata. What are you talking about?”
Renata slithered toward Oliver, her phone outstretched. “I knew that girl was good for nothing. I just made sure the country knows it, too. Now that she’s out of the picture, we can be together like we were always supposed to be.”
Oliver’s face paled as he took Renata’s phone, his eyes widening as he read the screen.
I quickly pulled my own phone from my pocket, brought up Google, and searched “Wexstone Bernadette Hamilton.” Ice slid down my spine as I clicked on the top headline result: Wexstone Palace Source Reveals Contestant’s Instability.
Fire now licked through my veins. The article was full of the most ludicrous lies I had ever read.
A quick skim of the rest of the search results indicated that nearly every outlet in Wexstone had either written about the article or was posting about it on social media.
I might have been angry with Birdie, but I would have never wished this kind of personal attack on her.
I looked up to see red-hot rage fill Oliver’s face. “Renata, let me make sure I understand. You orchestrated this article?”
Renata preened around the room, somehow oblivious to Oliver’s anger. “Of course. I knew she couldn’t possibly be here for the right reasons. I just needed some time to get the proof I needed to show everyone else that she clearly was not cut out for the job of being your queen.”
“Get out.”
Renata stopped, spinning on her heels. “What?”
“Get. Out.”
“But, Ollie—”
“Do not call me Ollie. In fact, you are never to speak to me again, is that clear?”
Renata’s face paled and her hands shook. “I…but…”
Oliver placed Renata’s phone back in her hands, grabbing his own and dialing a number.
“I have spent years witnessing you talk down to everyone around you in an effort to elevate yourself. I have stood by as you drooled first over Xavier, then me, in hopes of becoming queen. I never should have allowed you to become a part of this competition in the first place, but I was foolishly hoping to keep the peace. No more. You are no longer welcome in this competition or in my presence.” He turned to speak into his phone.
“Hello, yes, I require an escort for Ms. Raines. She will meet you at the front entrance of Lexington Manor. Please ensure that the rest of the security team knows she is barred from all further competition events and the palace grounds for the foreseeable future.”
Oliver hung up his phone, placed it back in his pocket, and gestured toward the hall. “After you, Ms. Raines. Let’s make sure you make it out safely, shall we?”
Renata brushed her hands over her short dress, straightened her shoulders and put on her haughtiest face, her confidence not meeting her eyes as she stalked from the room with Oliver at her heels.
I leaned my head against the wall and let out a deep sigh. What the fuck just happened here?
My head was pounding, and when I turned over to the opposite side of my bed, waves of nausea came crashing over my body. It took a lot for me to be hungover, but after the night I’d had, I had given myself the greenlight to drink until I forgot everything.
If I was being honest with myself, I knew better, but I had to try to forget.
I needed to forget what it felt like to have the woman I was in love with tell me she didn’t love me back.
I needed to forget that my sheets still smelled of her.
I needed to forget what her lips tasted like, and I needed to forget that she left and I would never see her again.
Eugene whined from under the comforter. I knew that he needed to go outside but I wasn’t sure that I could stand without throwing up. But he needed me.
Birdie may not have needed or wanted me, but my boy did.
I made it to the back door to let Eugene out when the nausea turned full force. I sprinted to the sink, barely making it there before the bottle of whiskey from the previous night made its way back up.
Once I let Eugene in, I grabbed a bottle of water out of the refrigerator and some bread from the pantry. I could have been a grown man and toasted it, but I was only eating it so I would have something on my stomach for the acetaminophen I was about to take.
I stepped back into my bedroom, but one sight of my bed triggered memories of Birdie that made me feel like I was going to be sick again.
Instead, I settled for the couch, covering myself with a blanket as Eugene forewent his normal spot by my feet and curled up in front of me with his head on my arm.
Despite his pain-in-the-ass tendencies, Eugene was more adept at reading a room than some humans I knew, making him the first to recognize when my emotions were a wreck. I scratched that special spot behind his ear and he nestled deeper into my side, his breathing synchronizing with my heartbeat.
“Looks like it’s just going to be you and me, boy.” I put my arm around him. “I’m sorry. I tried to get her to stay, but I wasn’t enough.”