Chapter 26 #2
When I woke up the next morning, I texted several of my friends to ask for therapist recommendations.
If I was going to start feeling my feelings, I knew I would need some help along the way.
Knox had spoken so highly of his therapy experiences that it made me less afraid to take that leap for myself.
Even if we never spoke again, I knew I could always thank him for that gift.
I spent the rest of the morning updating my resume and researching art curator jobs. By noon, I had bookmarked a handful of promising-sounding internships and entry-level positions to apply for after the holidays.
That afternoon was spent Googling the therapists’ names I had gotten from my friends, trying to decide from their online profiles if any of them might be a good fit.
A few of them seemed stuffy, but one of them—Lisa Andrews, LCSW—seemed promising and was in network with my self-pay insurance.
Even better, she offered virtual sessions.
My hand shaking, I submitted an online form booking a consultation with her.
Step by step, Birdie. You can do this.
I woke up the morning of December 23 knowing what my next move had to be. I had to step away from my comfort zone if I was going to follow through on any of what I’d done so far.
“Hey, Chad,” I said as I walked into the back office at Americana.
Chad looked up from his desk where he was working on payroll. “Birdie. What the hell are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be off in London or something?”
I smiled wryly. Nice to see that some things never changed. “Wexstone, but yes. There was a change of plans, and I came home a bit early.”
Chad grunted. “Mmph. Well, guess you probably want to get back on the schedule, huh? I might be able to get you on for Christmas Eve if you’re looking to pick up a shift.”
“Actually, I came here to give you this,” I said, handing him a sheet of paper. He took it, glancing it over, his eyes widening.
“You’re quitting?”
“That’s my letter of resignation, yes. Normally I would give you two weeks’ notice, but since I wasn’t supposed to be back until after the new year anyway, let’s consider this my final date of employment.”
Chad’s brows furrowed. “What are you going to do?”
I knew it would probably take a few months to get hired and onboarded for any of the curatorial positions I had bookmarked, so I had decided to apply as an instructor at one of those “wine and paint” places in the meantime.
It would tide me over until I could get in at a museum and might even be pretty fun.
Not that I felt like I needed to share any of that with Chad.
“I have a plan and for the first time in a long time, I feel really good about it.”
Chad grunted as I said my goodbyes and cleaned out my locker.
Back at Sam’s, I was deep into the process of filling out job applications, early 2000s Matchbox Twenty playing on Spotify, when there was a knock at the door.
I paused the music, setting aside my laptop as I stood. I hadn’t realized how long I had been sitting and working, and I stretched as I absentmindedly peered out the peephole.
My heart instantly started hammering in my chest as I recognized the chiseled jaw and blond hair of the man outside Sam’s door: Oliver.
“Can I come in?”
I stood in the doorway to Sam’s apartment, my jaw slack in disbelief. I was pretty sure a few minutes had passed since I had opened the door, but I still hadn’t said a word.
I nodded, stepping back to let him in. I peeked into the hall as I closed the door, noting the black-clad bodyguard posted near the elevator. I could only assume there was at least one more in the lobby and possibly a third just outside the building.
Oliver shrugged off his coat and I motioned toward the hook by the door. He hung up his coat and followed me to the kitchen.
“Wine?” I asked. It was the first word I had spoken to him since our argument at Lexington Manor.
“You’re offering?” he asked, his eyebrow raised.
I huffed a laugh. “I guess I am,” I said as I grabbed a bottle of rosé from the fridge and poured us each a glass.
I handed him a glass and took a sip from my own, leaning against the fridge and silently appraising the prince now seated on the barstool in front of me.
“I’m sure you’re wondering what I’m doing here,” he said.
I raised my eyebrow in a yeah, duh gesture.
Oliver laughed. “Okay, sure. I deserved that.” He took a breath and set his glass down on the counter. “Birdie, I’m here for a lot of reasons, but the first is to apologize to you. I know you were ignoring my texts, and rightfully so, but I hope you’ll hear me out now that I’m here.”
I nodded for him to continue.
“I was wrong. I meddled and I overstepped. I should have just talked to you and Knox instead of trying to set you both up behind your backs. It wasn’t right and I can see now how much it hurt both of you—two people I care about so deeply.
For that I am so very sorry. I hope you can forgive me someday. ”
I swallowed, taking in the man before me, remorse written on his face. I may not have fallen in love with Oliver, but I had certainly come to think of him as a friend, and seeing the shame he held in his body broke through my icy front.
I moved to the stool next to him, setting down my wine and taking his hands in my own.
“Oliver, you don’t need to apologize. Well, maybe a little, but I know your heart was always in the right place.
I’ve recently had something of a wake-up call and you’re right: I did love Knox.
Do love Knox; I was just too scared to admit it.
I’m not sure I would have been able to admit it without your interference, so I should probably be thanking you.
” I laughed through my nose as I squeezed Oliver’s hands.
“But I should also apologize to you. I said some pretty hateful things to you that night, and I was way out of line. I don’t know anything about being royal or in line for the throne, and the way you do or don’t handle what life has thrown at you is none of my business.
You’re doing a great job. I hope you know that. ”
Oliver’s mouth lifted into a half smile as he squeezed my hands in return.
“You were right on most of it. And it really made me question if being king is what I want.
I mean, I never had to think too much about it as a kid, since all the focus was on preparing Xavier for the throne.
Him abdicating was the last thing any of us expected, so I really was thrust into all of this without any warning.
“But the more I considered it, the more I realized that I do want to be king—I’m not exactly sure what my reign will look like but I do know I need to, as you put it, ‘buck the fuck up’ for future royal generations and the people I love and serve.
I know that I want to change things for the better, and while that may take a little time, I want my legacy to show that I helped those who came after me.
I never want anyone else in this predicament.
I may not be able to change things for myself, but I can make sure that my children—or Rosie, should the worst happen—are free to make their own choices about marriage. ”
I smiled at him, at the prince who had become a true king almost right before my eyes. “I’m proud of you.”
“Thank you.”
“I do feel pretty out of the loop on what’s been going on in the last week. Wanna fill me in on who you’re planning to propose to in”—I glanced at the date on my watch—“three days?”
Oliver sighed deeply.
I raised an eyebrow. “Oh, you’re feeling that good about it, huh?”
“I know who I want to pick, but there are some big conversations that need to happen first. I owe it to her to approach her about it before I discuss it with anyone else.”
I suppressed a grin, trying not to reveal I had a good guess who he meant. “You’re a good man. She’s a lucky woman.”
Oliver leaned back and eyed me. “Now let’s talk about your happiness, Birdie.”
I blushed. “Oh, let’s not,” I sputtered.
“He misses you.”
My eyes shot to Oliver’s. “He does?”
He nodded. “He’s miserable without you.”
My stomach soared for a brief moment before falling back down into my ass. “I was terrible to him. I don’t know if he could forgive me.”
“I think you might be surprised, Birdie.”
I looked down, playing absentmindedly with the cuffs of my NYU sweatshirt.
“I have one last thing I need to discuss with you, though.”
I met his gaze. “Oh?” I said, taking a sip of wine.
“This part is official palace business, actually. I’m here to offer you a job.”
I choked on my wine. “You—what?”
“I don’t know if you recall from our tour of the palace grounds, but our palace curator retired earlier this year and we’ve been struggling to fill the position.
” I nodded, recalling the conversation. “Well,” he continued, “I realized that I know the perfect candidate. Someone who has the necessary education and background, has a passion for art, and certainly doesn’t care about being around royalty.
In fact, she’s unafraid to give the future king a piece of her mind. ” He laughed, winking at me.
A flush filled my face as my heart threatened to race out of my chest. “What? You want me to be your palace curator?”
Oliver nodded solemnly. “We absolutely do. My parents are fully on board, as is our head of HR. I believe she will have a formal offer letter for you, but I told her that I needed to make a verbal offer in person.”
I shook my head, still in shock. “But I haven’t actually worked as a curator before! I just have my degree, don’t you want—”
“What we want, Birdie,” he said, cutting me off as he took my hands again, “is someone just like you. I anticipate there will be a learning curve for you, but that’s true of any job.
Hell, I’m in for a real learning curve myself over these next few months.
But we’re confident in our choice. What do you say? ”
I paused, my mind reeling. I took a deep breath in for five seconds, held it for five seconds, and let it out for five seconds.
“Yes, I accept. On one condition...”