Page 71 of Royal Charmer
I blink in surprise at the force of her words, as if I care so much about the gardener.
The moment she leaves, I flop back on the mattress and throw an arm over my stinging eyes.
Then I curl into the pillow that still smells like her and close my eyes, but I can still see the hurt in her eyes.
~ ~ ~
Alice
Lucas and I are through. And that is fine. Really. I’m fine. It. Is. Fine.
Without trust, there is nothing. And I wasn’t ready for a heavy relationship, which he well knew, and so…this is all for the best. I paste on a smile, pretending to be following the conversation at the large round table, where I’m currently enjoying high tea with my readers. The British office of my publisher arranged this Sunday afternoon reader event at The Langham Hotel. I’m in the grand ballroom with two hundred readers and two debut historical romance authors I’ve only met for the first time today. After tea, the other authors, Sarah and Lauren, and I will take turns reading from our books, and then we’ll do a signing. Tonight I’m supposed to have dinner with the British publishing team, spend the night, and leave the next morning. I have plane tickets back to the US from here tomorrow. That was the plan before Anna offered to let me stay the full six weeks to write my book. Now I don’t know what to do. I want to return to the palace (you can’t beat having servants to prepare meals while you write), but now with Lucas…I don’t think I can.
I take a sip of tea to ease the tightness in my throat. Why did he have to do the one thing that would hurt me the most? Oh, I know it wasn’t as bad as him cheating on me, which would be a low blow, but it was still a betrayal of my trust. The second time, too, and I can’t let there be a third. I was just beginning to trust him enough to open my heart. Now it’s clear he’s the kind of man who does whatever serves his needs, even knowing it’s the wrong thing. I suppose I should’ve known that since that’s exactly what happened with our fake engagement. Gabriel told him no—his king!—and Lucas went through with it anyway.
What is wrong with men? Where is their sense of honor? This is why I prefer my old-school book boyfriends. They abide by a code of honor and always do the proper thing, except for the bedroom, where they’re deliciously naughty. Lucas was a fantasy come true in that regard.No thinking of naughty Lucas!We are done. Capital D done. Stick a fork in it, we’re done. And I’m fine with it. I’m a strong resilient woman who—
“Alice?”
I blink and look towards the brunette woman on my right. Olivia. She looks like she wants some kind of answer. “Yes, Olivia? Sorry if I spaced there.”
She smiles prettily. “I was just saying I was sorry to hear about Mason. Are you okay? You haven’t been on social media. Not that I’m a stalker!”
Mason. The name doesn’t bring the sharp jab of pain it used to. I don’t know if it’s because I finally confronted him and said goodbye, or if it’s because my mind has been so focused on writing my story and Lucas.Ouch.There’s the jab of pain.
“Men suck,” I announce, and the women around the table titter with surprise. “Except for book boyfriends.”
A chorus of agreement goes around the table, and I smile. This is my second reader event in London, and I’ve found the readers to be wonderful.
“What’s your next book about?” a blond woman across the table asks.
“William,” I say. “It’s calledThe Scoundrel and the Governess.”
“Ooh!” several women say.
“William is a scoundrel, how delicious!”
“I love the bad boys!”
“Does he seduce the governess, and they’re forced to marry for propriety’s sake?” Olivia asks.
Seven pairs of eyes stare back at me.No, she’s ruined by the end and so is he.I can’t say that. First of all, I never give away the ending. And second, why couldn’t I write a happy ending? I saw myself in Diana, yet I couldn’t give it to myself. I hoped for better, of course, which is why I thought of the epilogue. I just couldn’t write the damn thing. Maybe, deep down, I no longer believe love always has a happy ending. It’s so much more complicated, messy, and imperfect. The real tragedy is that I didn’t see the truth about love before. I press my fingers to my temples as a headache begins to throb.
A light hand touches my shoulder. It’s Olivia. “Are you okay? Would you like some fresh air? There’s a courtyard just through there.” She gestures toward a door in the back of the room.
“No, I’m fine, thanks,” I say. “Just a little tired.”
Everyone gives me a sympathetic look, and somehow that makes me feel worse. I’m all off-kilter today, reeling from this morning’s fight with Lucas. I have to power through.Be the badass.
“Back to your original question,” I say to the women, “I never share the ending, but as soon as it’s completed, in that lo-o-ong wait to publication, I’ll start sharing teasers on my social media. And if you were one of the lovely readers who sent me a message of support after my ordeal with you-know-who, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. It really helped to make me feel less alone in my grief.”
I pause, struck by that grief idea, dimly aware of more murmurs of support. I suppose it was like grief, losing Mason and Riley, and I feel better now because I had that goodbye, that sense of closure. I truly am a strong woman, not tough but resilient.
“I’m over the hump,” I say. “Moving forward and back in my writing groove so I can get you more stories to read.”
“Hear, hear!” Olivia cheers.
And then they toast me with their teacups, which is so darling. I relax and go back to enjoying finger sandwiches, pastries, and the wonderful company.
