“Why?”
“What?” I ask, confused.
“Why won’t I be king one day if we’re together? My people already love the two of us together, so that argument goes out the window. We’ve already established that I don’t give a shit what my father thinks, so that argument doesn’t work either. So, again, I ask, why will being with you hinder me from taking the throne?”
“Your father said—”
“Fuck what my father said!” he roars, and for the first time I see the rage under the ice. “Either you want to be with me or you don’t.”
“It’s not that simple,” I tell him, voice wavering a little under the fierceness of his gaze. And the pain of losing him.
“It is that simple. You’re the one making it complicated.”
“If you really believe that, then you’re lying to yourself. You may feel that way now, you may feel that way next month or maybe even next year. But at some point, maybe when your father dies, maybe before, it’s going to hit you just what you gave up to be with me.”
“I’m not giving anything up. It’s already been taken from me.”
“He just offered to give it back. And you can say that it’s bullshit, you can say it’s just a mind game he’s playing with you, but what if it’s not? What if it’s a genuine offer? Do you really believe that you’re going to be okay walking away from it for a woman you’v
e known for only two weeks?”
“I’m okay walking away from it for you, because I love you.”
“You say that now, but you don’t know.” My father told my mother he loved her, then walked—no, ran—away the second he found out she was pregnant. And Garrett has so much more to lose than my father ever did. He may say, now, that he wants to be with me, but how can he be certain when he’s already been through so much? And, even if by some miracle he does mean it, how can I let him throw away the one thing that matters to him more than anything?
“What you mean is that you don’t know,” he says as he stalks toward me, eyes narrowed. “I’m standing here, baring my soul, telling you exactly how I feel about you, and you won’t accept it.”
“That’s not fair.”
“There’s no fair, Lola. None of this is fair. There’s only what is. And what is is that I love you and want to build a life with you. Why can’t you believe that?”
“Because no one does this outside of books or movies. Nobody just gives up a kingdom for the person they love. That’s fairy-tale shit. It doesn’t happen in the real world.”
“How would you know?”
I think about my father, about the way he threw my mother away the second she became a risk to his reputation and the empire he was trying to build. About how he spent his life trying to pretend away my existence because it was inconvenient for him to have an illegitimate daughter with a showgirl who wasn’t always discriminating about the kinds of jobs she took on.
I don’t tell Garrett that, though. Partly because he already knows and partly because he would tell me he doesn’t care. And while he’s not like my father in any way that really matters, I can’t help but remember what Savvy told me about their relationship. He’s not been like that with me at all, but does that mean he never will be?
Besides, even if he means what he says, how can I ask him to walk away from everything that matters to him for me? How can I honestly expect that he wouldn’t grow to resent me?
His perfect fiancée, Felicity, couldn’t hold him. Savvy, who is pretty much the sweetest, most nurturing woman on earth, couldn’t either. Why the hell would I be able to, when I’m about as far from sweet or nurturing or perfect as a person can get?
“I need to go,” I tell him, grabbing my overnight bag from next to the couch.
“You’re just going to walk away without even talking this through?” He looks incredulous. Worse, he looks as hurt as I feel.
“I have a flight to catch,” I lie, because it seems more expedient than telling him the truth and right now, expediency is everything. If I don’t get out of here in the next ninety seconds, I’m going to break down completely. And Garrett shouldn’t have to deal with my emotions on top of his own. After all, this whole mess is my fault.
“You’ve already booked a flight? Wow, I guess I’m lucky I woke up when I did. Were you just going to leave me a note if I was still sleeping when you had to go?”
“I would have woken you up.” I walk to the door, then turn back to face him without opening it. “I’m sorry, Garrett. I’m so sorry.”
He looks the same way I feel. Gutted. Cornered. Miserable. “Don’t go, Lola. Please, don’t go. Don’t leave me, not for this.”
The tears are back, narrowing my throat and burning behind my eyes. “I’m sorry,” I tell him again. And then I’m fumbling with the locks, throwing the door open, and running for the elevator like the hounds of hell are after me.
Garrett doesn’t even try to follow.