Chapter Twenty

Things Are Not Ideal

Rose sank onto her bed, her face in her hands. Hot tears leaked between her fingers, and she sniffled. She’d never expected to hear that stupid nickname out of Lorena, of all people. “There’s more to you than Rowdy Rosamund,” she’d said on their fake date, long before they’d gotten intimate. What had changed?

No, nothing had changed. Not for Lorena. Lorena had been honest from the start: she wasn’t interested in settling down, and she wasn’t in love with Rose. That’s the problem, I guess. Things changed for me. Rose hadn’t wanted any of this. Love, marriage, any of it. Now she did. With Lorena. More the fool, me.

A knock at the door—

Her heart leapt—she looked up, wiped her eyes—

Her mother entered without invitation. “Rosamund, it’s time. Aren’t you ready?” The crying registered. She lowered her voice. “Did something happen?”

“No.” Rose sniffled. “Aye. It doesn’t matter.” It wasn’t as though her mum was interested in her problems.

But Catriona sat beside her on the bed. Didn’t touch her, but waited.

Rose swiped at a stray tear. “I know the person I’m choosing. Or I did. Turns out she doesn’t want me to choose her.”

Catriona sighed. “You fell for the matchmaker, didn’t you.” It wasn’t a question.

Rose nodded miserably. “She pushed me away. She doesn’t want me.” I’m sure this won’t shock you, but it still hurts.

But her mother surprised her. “I’m sorry.”

With a sniff: “What, you approve?” Of course. Wouldn’t that be the cherry on top of this whole debacle.

“No, but I know how it feels to have love pass you by. Sometimes life doesn’t give us what we want.” She hesitated, then laid a hand on Rose’s shoulder. “I know you didn’t want this position, or any of the responsibilities that come with it…but you have been trying. I see that now. And I appreciate it.”

Rose blinked wetly. Had her mum gone mad?

“I haven’t perhaps given you a fair shake, and I’m going to do better.” Catriona patted her gently and pulled her hand away. “Not that it’ll make you feel better to hear this, but it was Lorena who put me in my place with regard to you. So I’d venture to say, perhaps she’s not quite as untouched as she might like you to believe right now.”

Rose reeled. Lorena had lectured the queen about being fair to her? When? How? Surely not. Yet, for all Catriona’s flaws, she wasn’t a liar. And despite her inexplicably perfect curtsies, Lorena didn’t put much stock in aristocratic hierarchy, so yelling at the leader of a country was well within the realm of possibility.

Catriona pushed herself to her feet. “Well, the ball awaits. Splash some cool water on your face and join me in greeting the guests. Most of them already know you, yes?”

“A-aye.” They did, but Rose had kept her charity work on the down-low. How long had her mum known?

“Well, I hope their experiences with you were positive enough for them to be pleased to see you again.” Catriona walked to the door, then paused and turned to Rose. “A word of advice? Never let them see you cry.”

Before Rose could ask who “them” was, her mum disappeared into the corridor and closed the door behind her.

But Catriona wasn’t wrong. So Rose washed her face, redid her makeup, and put on the publicity-loving smile she’d perfected over the years. She scratched Iver behind the ears. “I’ll be back soon, my handsome boy,” she cooed.

He licked her hand.

She air-smooched him on the forehead so as not to smudge her lipstick. “Who’s a good boy?”

His tail wagged.

“Yes, it’s you! You’re the good boy!” More scritches, but eventually, she had to tear herself away. She put him on a leash and passed the handle to the staff member waiting outside her door. “Thank you for watching him.”

The staff member curtsied. “My pleasure, Your Highness.”

Rose strode down the corridor to the ballroom, where her mother waited with Graeme. The clamor of conversation was audible even through the closed doors. She flashed them a killer smile. “Let’s blow their minds.”

Catriona gave her a pensive look before nodding to Graeme. He stepped aside, and the master of ceremonies straightened. As the doors opened, silence fell.

“Announcing Her Majesty, Queen Catriona, and Her Royal Highness, Princess Rosamund!”

Her mum glided into the ballroom, and after a count of five, Rosamund followed suit. She smiled and waved at the crowds as she passed—hey, there’s Bianca Russo from the Russo International Education Foundation. Brightening, she made a mental note to say hello to her later.

Catriona sat on her throne at the head of the room, and Rosamund stood beside her, hands folded in front of her. Her mum gave an elegant wave, signaling for the festivities to begin. Conversations roared to life, and people paired off to the dance floor as the orchestra prepared to play the first waltz. A server came by with a platter of hors d’oeuvres. Catriona took a prosciutto-wrapped fig, but Rose felt too sick to eat, despite her wide smile. She scanned the crowds, searching for Lorena, but she was nowhere to be found. What if she’d decided not to come at all? What was Rose supposed to announce?

Choose someone else tonight.

The false smile faltered. Whether she meant it or not, Lorena had made her position clear. She didn’t pick Rose. Her company, her current life, came first. Rose had been a little bit of fun on the side.

Despair gripped her by the throat. She was really going to be queen, and the one thing she’d wanted for herself—the one person she’d wanted by her side—didn’t want her in return. She would have to settle for a partner she didn’t love. She would have to give up on that chance at happiness. Rose dug her nails into her skin.

She’d promised to announce her choice tonight.

She couldn’t pick someone who would turn her down.

Lady Grainne approached the throne and swept a deep curtsy. Her indigo-ombré gown glittered in the light of the sconces. “Your Majesty. Your Royal Highness. It’s a pleasure to be here tonight.” Her gaze went to Rose. “You look beautiful.”

Rosamund brought the smile back. “Thank you.”

Grainne beamed in return, and Rose felt bad for her. She was sweet, and she’d make anyone a good match, but she wasn’t Lorena. Rose didn’t share her feelings. But she had to choose someone tonight, and Lorena wasn’t here, didn’t want her.

What was a princess to do?

She extended a hand to Grainne. “Would you like to dance?”

*

Curled up in the moonlit window seat of her bedroom, wearing sweats instead of her gorgeous ball gown, Lorena sobbed with Amado in her lap.

Tonight was it. She’d pushed Rose away for the final time so she could choose a legitimate partner—namely, Lady Grainne—at the ball. Love, Lorena would get a satisfied royal customer, and with the queen as a testimonial, business would come in like never before from all over the world. They’d be able to expand, maybe open up offices in other countries.

Maybe they’d open one in Ìovoria, so Lorena could still come see Rose, even after she was married with kids and had forgotten all about Lorena.

Lorena would get everything she had ever wanted out of her business.

So why wasn’t she happy about it?

She would go back to the United States, back to real life. Rose was a fantasy, nothing more. A month of taunting Lorena with what wasn’t made for her. Whatever. She’d get over it. So would Rose. They’d go their separate ways, and things would be…fine. Maybe not great. Maybe not good. Not if Rose wasn’t in the picture. But things would be fine.

Lorena wasn’t sure if she was okay with fine anymore.

From the bedside table, her phone rang with an incoming call. With a sniffle, she set Amado on the floor and padded over to answer it. Caller ID: her dad. Great. She did not have the emotional bandwidth for this. But she pressed Answer Call because she was an idiot.

“Took you long enough to pick up,” he said instead of hello. “I thought you were going to ignore me entirely.”

Lorena sniffed and wiped her eyes. “What do you need, Papá?”

He actually paused. “Are you crying, mija?”

This felt like a trick, but: “Yes.”

“Don’t cry.”

She coughed out a laugh. It’s not quite so simple.

“If anyone should be crying, it should be me. Your mother bought a house on my street. My street! Can you believe that? Now I’ll have to see her all the time. What a selfish—”

“She can live where she wants.” Lorena sighed. “And you don’t have to interact at all. She’s on your street, not in your house. Leave each other alone, and leave me out of it.”

“I wasn’t done,” her dad said. “I can’t believe I was ever married to such a self-centered person. Take it from me, Lorena: you’re selling people a fairy tale. Love isn’t real. It doesn’t exist. People don’t love each other; they love attention. Anyone who says…”

He kept ranting, but Lorena tuned out.

Love isn’t real.

Love, Lorena’s entire premise said it was. Love existed, and it could be found, and everyone deserved to find it.

He’d always downplayed what she did, but he’d never put it so bluntly before. Love isn’t real. It was real. It was. She’d built an empire around finding it for people because they deserved it. People deserved love.

And maybe so did she.

“No,” she said faintly. Then, louder, more strongly: “No. No.”

“—and I challenge anyone to—no?” José Luís scoffed. “No, what?”

“Love is real,” Lorena insisted. “I’ve seen it. It’s scary, and it doesn’t survive without hard work, but it’s real and it’s beautiful and I’m tired of being told it’s a lie or it doesn’t work. It does work. Yours just didn’t.”

“I don’t—”

“And another thing,” she continued, her voice rising. “I am not your therapist. I don’t want to hear about your problems with Mamá. You divorced, fine. I care about both of you, despite all common sense to the contrary. Stop trying to get me to pick sides. I pick my side. If you call me again to talk about her, or if she calls me to talk about you, I will hang up. Do you understand me?”

“But I’m not—”

“You are.” She pinched the bridge of her nose under her glasses. “If you can’t respect me or the work I do, I don’t want to talk to you. Treat me like the adult I am.”

“You can’t talk to me like that!”

“I can, starting now. Now, I’d like you to say, ‘Your business is legitimate, Lorena.’ I don’t even care if you mean it or not. I just want to hear the words out of your mouth.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“Not what I asked you to say.”

He huffed. “Your business is legitimate, Lorena.” Nasally. Stilted. Fake as a plastic pear, as Rose would say. But he’d said it.

“Thank you. Now I need to let you go. I’ll talk to you later.” And for the first time ever, she hung up.

She video-called Natascha. Love is real. Love is real, and I’m allowed to have it.

Tascha picked up. “Hey, girl! Isn’t it late for you? And aren’t you supposed to be at the fancy announcement ball?”

“Yes and yes. Listen—Rose told me she loves me.”

“What?”

“So I broke things off with her.”

“What?”

“Because I didn’t think I was allowed to have her.”

“Girl!”

“I know. My parents have been so ‘love is fake and Love, Lorena is stupid’ for so long I actually believed them. I was so afraid of love. I thought it wasn’t for me. Well, it is for me.”

“Hell, yeah, it is!”

“I’m allowed to have love, and I’m allowed to have Rose.”

“Yeah, you are!”

The thrill of the realization stuttered to a stop. “But I turned her down for good. I was a dick about it. I lost my chance.”

Tascha raised an eyebrow. “If she loved you then, she still loves you now. But she deserves for you to prove you choose her. So get off your whiny ass and win her back.” She shooed Lorena. “Go!”

Lorena looked at the clock on the wall, and her stomach sank. “I don’t know where she is! The ball ended an hour ago!”

“Go find her, genius! Maybe start with her room?” Tascha stuck out her tongue in a (merited) duh expression.

No, not her room. If the ball had gone as badly as Lorena expected it had, she knew exactly where Rose would go for some comfort. So she ended the video call, pulled on a jacket and sneakers, and ran for the orchard.