I drop into the chair she vacated.
“Rose seems like a very nice girl.” My mom crosses her leg and pins me with a calculating look.
“She is,” I say cautiously. And then, because I’m all in here, I add, “I’m in love with her.”
My mom’s eyes bulge, and then that left one twitches again, ever so slightly. “Nonsense, Anton.”
“I’m serious. She’s it for me. I’ve never been surer of anything.”
She presses her lips together, and I glance over her shoulder to make sure Rose isn’t standing at the door. When I tell her how I feel, it will be romantic and direct—and not with my mother present.
“You’re from completely different worlds. It’ll never work.” My mother flicks a piece of lint from her pantsuit. “Besides, you’ll need to marry a woman from Penwick, preferably someone of our status.”
I roll my eyes. “An arranged marriage? I won’t be doing that.”
My mom arches her eyebrows. “You’ll do what’s expected of you because of the crown you were born wearing, Anton. There are certain things that are non-negotiable.”
I shake my head. “There’s nothing in Penwick law that forbids me from being with an American.”
If there was, that would be another item to add to my ever-growing list of reasons to abdicate. It’s mostly a silly little game I play, or a dream I have. What my life could be like if I wasn’t beholden to the crown. If I didn’t have to go back to Penwick at age thirty and live the life I was born into. But it’s merely a game. There’s no way I could shirk my responsibilities.
My mom waves me off. “It’s all but implied. And it’s for the best. I mean, my word, Anton, you think acheerleader, even one who writes,“ she adds with a scoff, “is going to be able to help you run our country? That’s preposterous. You need a partner who is established in politics and understands the social norms of Penwick. Someone who can step into a room and demand respect. Like I said, Rose seems like a very nice girl, but she’s not for you—at least not forever.”
I gulp down the wave of nausea that’s building up in my esophagus. As much as I know Rose is the woman for me and as much as I believe she’s the exact type of person I want by my side, I have to concede one thing about my mom’s point. We’re from different worlds, Rose and I. I have no idea if she’d be willing to uproot her life and move to Penwick—to give up everything she’s ever known, the familiarity and luxuries of American living, to come and live on a small island where half the population is grumpy about the royal family and the drain they believe us to be on the resources of the country. If I’m being completely honest, I sort of side with the people on this one. I want to make my own way.
All of this is a conversation I need to have with Rose, but it’s not one I’m going to have with my mom at the table, looking down her nose at us.
My mom takes my lack of response as my acknowledgement of her rightness, and I don’t have the backbone to correct her. “Glad we had this talk. You know, this really is a charming little spot. Not at all like Penwick.”
Maybe that’s why I like it so much.
I can’t sit still anymore. Thirty minutes and I already need a break from my mother and the stifling weight of my future. I stand and take two paces across the porch. I hear a small, barely audible intake of breath and catch sight of Rose inside the door. She steps out onto the porch in a simple green sundress. She’s put on gold hoop earrings and has her hair braided across thefront like a headband. Our eyes lock, and she smiles at me, even as my heart sinks. How much of this conversation did she hear?
My mom stands, in all her royal grandeur, and beams. “Oh, good. Rose, darling, you’re here. Now, let’s eat. I’m starving.”
16
Identity Crisis
Rose - Now
Anton and I are both subdued as we finish up our workouts. I had to ask about his family and Penwick. If I want to make thisSports Magazinearticle credible in any way, those are subjects I need to cover. But it’s a delicate topic where Anton is concerned. My mind spins with memories of my one and only in-person meeting with his mother. When she got me one-on-one, she called me a tart. She told me she didn’t think I could adequately do my job if I was, and I quote, “too busy snogging her son to keep an eye out for him.”
Basically, she put me in an impossible position back then. I was hired—by her—to get close to Anton so I could ensure his safety, but then she told me I was getting too close to him.
I reminded her I was just doing my job and that I was good at my job, so she had nothing to worry about. But truthfully, she called me out on something I didn’t want to admit to myself—Anton was more than a job. He was everything to me. I wasn’t sure how to stop falling for him, so I doubled down on my intention to keep him safe. I told myself I could do that, and even do it better because I had actual feelings for him, but then I overheard what Queen Della said to Anton about how I would never be the type of woman who he could end up with.
There she went, being right about something else I didn’t want to believe.
Anton and I were destined to fall apart. It was that meeting with the queen of Penwick that spelled out the beginning of the end for us. Sure, we stayed together for another three months—threemonths when I let myself be deliriously happy in his presence, when I soaked up his kindness and his kisses like a sponge.
I never let Anton know that I heard his mother call me a nobody. I wished he would have stood up for me, but it really didn’t matter. Queen Della was right. I’m not who he needed—then or now—and I knew it wouldn’t last. It couldn’t.
The final thing the queen told me was, “I hope you’re thinking as hard about how you’re going to end this little dalliance as you are about keeping up appearances. Because when your work is done, I don’t want my son to have any hope that this relationship can continue. It’s up to you to convince him that you two aren’t meant to be.”
Convince him I did.
Little did the queen know—heck, little didIknow—she’d need my services again.
