Page 2 of Last Minute

And now that hope is gone, and romantically, I’m back at square one. Maybe even square negative one.

It’s not that other men are out of my league, it’s that other men view me as out of their league. And the number of men in the league I was arbitrarily placed in is slowly getting smaller as the years trudge on.

I’m scared that one day, all those suitors will be gone and I’ll be forever alone. Just me and Brysard. The spare, married to her country.

“That’s it?” Bash asks. “This is a good thing? Where’s the emotion? Where’s the sunshine? You’re all cloudy right now, Ellie.” Bash’s eyebrows screw together as he studies me. I swallow down the tightness in my throat and look at him with an even expression.

“Sometimes, you need the clouds to appreciate the sunshine.”

CHAPTER 2

Ellie

I am full of crap and I know it. Whatever brave face I had put on in front of my brother earlier has gone to bed with the rest of the palace occupants. Which leaves me, one of the few who is still awake, alone and bawling into the reusable container of homemade butter pecan ice cream.

“Homemade” is too humble of a word for this ice cream. Our family’s personal chefs—Michelin star-caliber personal chefs—made it this afternoon. And now I’m absolutely demolishing it like it isn’t the kind of ice cream you savor one polite mouthful at a time.

My puffy eyes can barely make out the fuzzy backlit “2:08” on the stainless-steel digital clock hanging on the far wall of the kitchen. I should be in bed, but after tossing, turning, and tangling myself in my sheets for hours, I decided to give my best-laid plans the funeral they deserved.

I’m wrist-deep into the container when I hear the soft shush of the industrial-grade kitchen door swinging open and shut and the light pat-pat-pat of socked feet across the smooth tile.

I wipe my runny nose on my shoulder and dash away the fresh tears that spring to my eyes when Mother hoists herself onto the marble counter next to me. My fingers come away covered in remnants of black mascara and the sparkly eyeshadow that I wear on a near-daily basis. I was so all over the place after my father’s news that I forgot to take it off before climbing into bed. Mother picks up the container of ice cream from where I have it pinned between my knees and takes a small bite. Usually, it’s me and Travis Beckett, my long-time executive protection agent, sneaking downstairs for midnight snacks, not the Queen of Brysard.

“What are you doing up this late?” I ask in a quiet, it’s-so-obvious-that-I’ve-been-crying voice.

“What are you doing up this late?” Mother asks, throwing my question back at me.

I sigh, letting every ounce of air be pushed out of my lungs before I draw in a deep, ragged breath and hold it in my chest until it’s nearly painful.

“Just…processing,” I finally say, once again reaching for the ice cream. Mother passes me the spoon and I dig a large spoonful out and eat it slowly, like I would an ice cream cone. Mother nods, and one of her hands goes to my back and starts making soothing circles.

This is a touch I haven’t felt in a long time. The kind a parent gives their small child when they’re having a bad day. A touch that has-everything-put-together-and-planned-out Princess Eloise hasn’t needed in a very long time.

I need it tonight, though.

“Your father and I talked about it.” I look up at her sudden interruption of the calm silence we’re sharing. Her hand continues its path of circles on my back. “We think it would be good for you to get out. Take a vacation. Do something besides sit around and stew in the disappointment of the marriage arrangement.”

“Do princesses even get vacations?” I hiccup a watery laugh and fill my mouth with another spoonful of ice cream, albeit smaller than the previous one.

“They do if the King and Queen say so,” Mother’s smile is warm and mischievous, and she reaches over to take the spoon from me. She digs her own chunk of ice cream out of the carton and shovels it into her mouth. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her as un-queenly as she is right now.

When she finishes her bite, she continues. “Your father and I have put a lot on your shoulders over the last few years. And the pressure of this marriage arrangement has really dulled your spark. Clouded your sunshine, like Bash said earlier. And we think some time off might be what you need right now.”

“Where would I even go?” I’m not going to argue with my mother on whether or not I would be going on vacation. She said it and so it would be done. The only thing to do now was to pick the destination.

“Wherever you want. So long as you take Beckett with you.”

I huff a laugh as the corners of my mouth turn up in a small smile. Travis Beckett, who has been my executive protection agent, or EPA, since I was sixteen, is more like a fun uncle that everyone wants to be around than a bodyguard. At first glance, he doesn't seem like the kind of man who can take you down without breaking a sweat, more like he’ll give you a hug before putting you in a headlock. He’s worked for the royal family since before I can remember, and I think he’s immortal because I’ve never seen him age. He’s more than just my EPA, he’s my friend, and I wouldn’t want to take anyone else with me on my impromptu vacation.

“Okay,” I agree softly. Mother smiles and passes the spoon back to me. “I’ll think about it and let you know what I decide.”

“You’ll have a full itinerary and transportation details before morning, won’t you?” Mother’s teasing laugh lifts a heavy weight from my shoulders. She’s given me a new direction to focus on, a new adventure to plan, and for now, I can sweep up the pieces of my old plans and tuck them into a box while I get some distance from the whole situation.

“Of course I will, who do you think I am? Bash?” Mother’s smile warms me from the inside out, and without a doubt, I know that my future—whatever it will be—will be okay.

CHAPTER 3

Erik

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