Even if I lied a little about that top ten list.
The irony, though, is that I’m very much in the same boat as Jackson. I am expected to follow in my father’s footsteps, and it’s not necessarily something I want to do.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m loyal to the crown. I’m devoted to my family. I love Bretaria as much as I love air, and I will do my duty to ascend when the time comes.
It’s just … I wish I could lead a different life. I wish I could choose a path where I was less controlled and I could make decisions for my own interests and not that of my subjects.
Alas, that is not an option for me. It’s the absolute downside to being a royal.
I could abdicate, of course.
But I’d never.
I’d never forsake my duty, even for my own happiness. My life will be about Bretaria. I will live on that island, in that palace, and have the same life around the same people day after day. It’s why this trip across the United States was so important to me and why my parents were so willing to let me take it at this time.
As I approach twenty-five when my role as heir will be solidified, my duties will increase over time. My father intends on taking me fully under his wing and teaching me everything. He also plans to start letting me represent the crown in some official capacities for him.
If I didn’t know better, I’d think my father is preparing for an early retirement and wants me to ascend sooner than upon his death. He’s still quite a young man, after all. But I know he’d never do that to me. He knows the weight the crown carries, and he wants me to have every opportunity to lead my life as I see fit.
With the small exception of getting married and producing an heir, he’s all for letting me spread my wings.
It was nearing midnight when Eliza yawned and I insisted she needed to get to bed. She intended to return to the hospital tomorrow and spend the entire day there. As of now, Jackson and I haven’t discussed when we’ll leave for Miami, but he has all day tomorrow to be with his parents. I’ll give him longer if he needs it. The jeweler I’m meeting will gladly fly here to meet me, and I don’t even mind giving up the Keys to hang around the Gales’ Arlington farmhouse. His mother is a delight, and his father, while crusty and pigheaded about his ideas of Jackson and job importance, I can tell beneath all that, he’s a good man.
I softly chastise myself as I walk down the creaky staircase. I try to go lightly so as not to disturb Eliza who closed her bedroom door about fifteen minutes ago. I should be doing the same, but I’m not tired at all. Both Eliza and Jackson told me to make myself at home, and although I didn’t know what that statement meant before or how it literally applies as I’ve never quite had this opportunity, I’m going to try it out and go down to the kitchen for a snack.
When I hit the landing, I stuff my hands into the pockets of my plush robe and cut left into the big kitchen, done in distressed white cabinetry, knotty pine flooring, and ruffled curtains over the sink windows. It’s quaint and homey and just the kind of kitchen in just the kind of house that makes me feel like I can raid it without judgment.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch movement through the living-room bay windows overlooking the porch that runs the entire length of the house and realize Jackson’s out there. I assumed he’d gone to bed, too, in the guest bedroom just down the hall from mine. Contrary to his teasing about me sleeping on the couch, the big house actually has three guest bedrooms in addition to the master.
From the glow of the porch light, I can see Jackson coming up the steps, meaning he was out there somewhere in the front yard. I move toward the door out of curiosity and he steps through, blinking in surprise to see me. He shrugs out of his heavy wool coat and hangs it on a rack by the door. He then throws the dead bolt and sets the alarm from the wall panel.
“What are you doing up?” he asks as he turns to face me.
“Couldn’t sleep. Was going to take your mom up on her hospitality and raid the butler’s closet.”
Jackson chuckles. “The butler’s closet?”
“You know, where the food is kept.”
“We call it a pantry.” Jackson grins and motions with his hand toward the kitchen. “I saw a stash of microwave popcorn in there.”