The Prince's Bride (Modern Fairytales 2)

Too good.

Swallowing hard, she stared at him, unsure what to say. So instead, she nodded wordlessly, and let him lead her into the building. The second they were inside, she froze.

There was a skating rink ahead, and there were decorated Christmas trees all over it, even though it was summertime and quite hot outside. Christmas music played over the speakers, and two pairs of ice skates sat by the door in boxes.

She stood there, unable to move, and just…

Stared.

Swallowing hard, she turned to him

and said, “Leo…”

“I still remember you wearing those ballerina tights, with your cheeks flushed from the cold and your laughter, but you just kept skating anyway.” He reached out slowly with his free hand and tucked her hair behind her ear, letting his fingers trail down her neck and over her shoulder. “You were so alive. So free. I envied that. And I just had to have a taste of that freedom for myself, through you.”

She swallowed a moan, forcing herself to look away before she did something stupid like throw her arms around him and never let go. Because, God, she wanted to. But she wouldn’t. Couldn’t. “I can’t believe you did all this for me.”

“Every time I hear classical music, it brings me back to that time I saw you on that stage, dancing your heart out. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.” He tightened his grip on her fingers and cupped her cheek with his other hand. “Do you still dance, my lady?”

She shook her head, the endearment not annoying her like it used to. Now, it sent a bolt of warmth shooting straight to her heart. “No.”

“Why did you stop? What happened?”

Everything happened.

She’d told him in those letters exactly what happened to her. The other times he pretended not to know something, she rolled her eyes and moved on. But this time…maybe it was the trip down memory lane, or maybe it was the way he kept looking at her, all sadness and bright blue eyes, she finally considered the possibility that he hadn’t left her standing alone in that airport after all.

That he was as innocent as she was in this whole thing.

And that terrified her.

Knowing he had hurt her, and would do so again, was the only thing that kept her heart safe from him. The only thing that reminded her to keep her distance.

If she lost that…

She lost everything.

“He died,” she said flatly. “My father died. When you don’t have a parent, you lose money for dance classes, and then you lose your home, and everything you hold dear. It’s just…gone. You’re alone, and no one cares anymore.”

Not even you.

He stared at her; his hard jaw was set, but his eyes were haunted. “How old were you when he died, Alicia?”

Young. Too young. “Sixteen.”

“But that was—” He reached out and covered her hand. “That was the year after we met.”

“Six months, actually.” She swallowed hard and avoided his soft stare. It was too much. “I wrote you and told you about it.”

“I didn’t get the letter. I swear on my crown, I didn’t get it.”

She pulled free, because she wanted to believe him, but to believe him was to let him back in, and if she did that, she was scared of what he’d find. “Whatever. It was years ago. It’s ancient history.”

“No.” He grabbed her chin and lifted her face to his. Her heart tried to pound a path right out of her chest and into his hands. “It’s not. You needed me, and I wasn’t there, and it’s never going to be okay. I should have written to you like I said I would.”

She swallowed, because tears were burning the back of her eyelids, and that was unacceptable. Girls like her didn’t cry. Her eyes burned and her throat ached, and even though it had been years since she last felt a tear roll down her cheek, she recognized the signs well enough.

If she opened her mouth, a sob would come out, and she’d make a fool of herself. And then she’d be in his arms, and he’d be holding her, and by the time the tears dried, she’d be putty in his hands—putty he’d destroy. Because no matter how much she might like him, or hope to make something real out of this, one thing just wasn’t going to change. She wasn’t good enough for a prince, and there was just no escaping that.