Secret Italian Prince's Baby

Because I was an adult, I picked myself up and hopped into the shower, discarding all my clothes before going into the spray. If I was crying, the tears were mixing with the water and I could pretend that it was just a very wet shower.

I heard my phone chime. I knew that it was probably Massimo. And I could not handle picking it up and answering.

Instead of brushing my teeth and getting into my pajamas, I flopped on my bed totally naked. Maybe in the morning, everything would seem better.

Running Away

When I woke up, I checked the time. Seven AM. I could see the notification from Massimo.

We should talk.

It was childish of me, perhaps, but I didn't want to talk to him. I'd hurt myself twice as much as I'd hurt him last night. I'd given up anything that we could've had together, the good moments and the beautiful memories.

I needed to get away from here. New York had nothing to offer me but heartache. I packed my bags and went to the airport. Priceline helped me fly standby on Delta. I decided to go to Vancouver. I'd be out of the country, but I wouldn't have to cross an ocean.

I saw that it would be a few hours before I could leave. I went into the airport lounge that I could access with my Priority Pass and sat in a corner. I stared at a spreadsheet full of numbers I knew I had to crunch. I didn't want to.

I shut my laptop and took out my Kindle. But I couldn't focus on the nonfiction book that I had to review within a few months. The words were meaningless. I wasn't going to cry in this lounge in full sight of all these businessmen. Instead, I headed towards the shower stalls fully clothed. I sat on a bench in the changing area, wiping away my tears. I shouldn't have invested so much of myself into my relationship with Massimo, who was a prince but didn't tell me when we met.

I just wanted to find love with someone who was uncomplicated. But it seemed that it was impossible, really. I cried until my eyes hurt.

My phone rang. I saw that his name came up. I did not accept the call. I dried my eyes. It was hard to stop crying, but I was in public. I needed to go to my gate.

Still sniffling, I pulled myself together, put Visine drops in my eyes, and headed for the gate. I had barely gotten there when the gate agent said, "Paging Celestine. Celestine, if you're in the area, please contact the nearest gate agent."

I hustled to the desk. "I'm here."

"Celestine?"

"Yes."

"Great," she said. "Security just has a few questions about your luggage. If you could come this way, we'll get everything sorted out."

"Yeah, of course," I said, yanking my suitcase behind me. She used her badge to go into the back corridors and took me to a security center.

"Totally routine, nothing to worry about. I'll see you soon." She closed the door behind her. I realized as it slid shut that I couldn't get out of this holding room. I looked around. It was sterile and white. I sat down on a chair. One time, my aunt had gotten stopped because she had carried home a lot of scented candles from France. I didn't think that there was anything in my luggage that would set off alarms, but I was willing to ditch anything that airport security deemed dangerous.

When the door opened, my jaw dropped.

"Massimo?"

"Hello, cara," he said without his characteristic warmth.

"What are you doing here?" I looked around. There wasn't anybody else. "You can't be back here! It's airport security."

"I donated money to their retirement plans in order to get some time with you."

"I'm busy," I hissed. "I'm heading to Vancouver."

"Not today," Massimo said, running his hand through his hair.

"You can't just keep me in New York."

"Look around," Massimo said. "I think I can."

I crossed my arms. His eyes went to my cleavage. I hastily uncrossed them. "You have no right."

"I have every right." He leaned forward. "And you're not leaving this room until you tell me what's going on."