Page 82 of Royally Arranged

My voice was more broken than I wanted it to be. “Glen said I reminded him of you. I hated that.”

“I don’t blame you.Ihated realizing what I’d done by abandoning my country. It wasn’t until we came here, and I saw how this place had fallen apart, that I grasped it was my only chance to make amends.” His arm came up, and he clutched my shoulder. In spite of his grim expression, I believe he was just as surprised as I was. “Hawthorne, I’m sorry. I tried to push you to be like me. No, better than me. But you saw through those desires even as a small child. You were never meant to succeed where I had failed, and putting that pressure on you when I’d run from it myself was unfair.”

I held his steady gaze. The lines in his skin, which I had associated with rage, now reminded me of all the suffering he’d gone through. All the pain that he’d lived with, the pressure to be a perfect son, brother, king ... and father.

He thought he’d failed at them all.

I grabbed his forearm and pulled him in for a solid hug. “It’s okay,” I said, my brain getting smothered by nostalgia thanks to his warmth and heavy scent—memories of being knee-high, of when he would spin me through the air, sit me on his lap, read to me by the roaring fire in his study. I’d buried the good to more easily live through the bad. “You messed up. So did I. We’ve still got plenty of time to do it right.”

My father clutched me hard enough that the last air in my lungs came out in a wheeze. His beard scratched my cheek, he hung on so tight, like it was possible to make up for years of negligence with one hug. It wasn’t. And we both knew it. But this was a start.

Letting me go, he stepped back. His smile was weary, the corners of his eyes red and damp. “You’re right. We’ve got time to make it right.” He paused. “The years do fly by, though. It’s amazing to think that I’ll have two grandchildren soon.”

“Yeah. I know.” Palming the side of my neck, I laughed. “Hope Kain doesn’t get too upset that we’ll be stealing his spotlight. Speaking of ... you might consider talking to him and the others. I get the feeling I’m the first to have a deep talk like this with you.”

He nodded gravely. “You’re right. All of you deserve better than what I’ve managed. It will be hard, though, with me being in Torino now.”

“I don’t know,” I said, grinning sideways. “You being king here has given us all an excuse to come around and enjoy the beautiful weather. This place really is gorgeous, you know.”

My father inhaled the sweet garden air. “Yes. It is. I missed it a lot.”

“Listen,” I said, kicking at the ground. “Nova and I are flying back to the States in a few days. Before we leave, do you want to ... go ... fishing?”

The bridge of his nose crinkled. “Fishing?”

“Yeah. I might have heard a story about you, a giant swordfish, and theSandpiper.” As I spoke, my father’s expression smoothed. His blue eyes lightened, his head lifting. “Of course, the old sailor wasprobablysenile. But I’d concede if I saw you in action.”

The understanding in his smile made him look younger. “I can’t believe they kept that damn fish.” Shaking himself, he focused on me. His joy became slyer, a strong arm circling my shoulder, pulling me in for a brief, forceful hug. “Son, nothing would make me prouder than taking you out on the water and kicking your ass.”

- EPILOGUE -

NOVA

All I wanted to do was sit outside in the gardens.

I remembered the first time I’d seen this place—the Badds’ estate. I’d been severely jealous of the green grass, the trees, the roses and horses both. It had made my concrete home feel more barren. Lifeless.

Lately, nothing about me was lifeless.

Though I was outside, I could hear the voices through the open windows of the mansion. The March weather was leaning toward the cooler side of spring. That was fine; at eight months pregnant, I was constantly overheating.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. Without glancing at it, I knew everyone was looking for me. Sending a final look out at the gardens, I filled my lungs with the fresh air, then waddled into the back door of the house. The smell of sugar made my stomach growl. I followed it into the dining room. Pink and blue balloons were taped to every surface, some stuck to the ceiling next to giant Mylar baby heads. Groaning, I pressed my palm to the front of my loose shirt, enduring as my hunger made the baby thrash. “I’m starting to think this isn’t a baby in here. I might be the first woman to give birth to a typhoon.”

“Uh-huh. Sit down, and we can find out in a few minutes if that typhoon is a boy or a girl,” Carmina said, waving a napkin at me. I followed her instructions, settling into the cushion-covered dining room chair with relief. One of the maids poured me a glass of lemonade, then rushed off to refill the other guests before I could say thanks.

I could understand her hurry, though. Carmina had invited every single person even somewhat related to them for the gender reveal of Thorne’s baby. In a way I was thankful. I certainly had no one to invite.

After being charged with conspiracy against the crown, my parents and brother had been sentenced to fifteen years in the Maurine prison system. Larchmont had an extra twenty years added for attempted murder. Darla and Richard would be out the quickest, both of them having taken plea deals, revealing anything asked of them about my family’s plot.

That still left them serving five years each, minimum.

If someone asked me how I felt about it all, I’d have struggled to answer. Luckily, no one asked. They were always too excited to gab about the coming baby. The gender reveal party was almost pointless—I was due in a month, I’d gone this long without knowing. I could wait until the moment the baby was born.

Carmina, though ...

Well.

After Sammy gave birth to her little girl, Carmina became obsessed. She’d dropped a thousand not-so-subtle hints about needing to know if she was getting another granddaughter, or her first grandson. Thorne had finally taken me aside, begging me to let his mom throw a party for us.

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