Page 15 of The King's Secret Baby

Stupid, stupid Hailey. I blink back the sting of tears, refusing to cry in public over a man I barely know. Clearly, our magical night together meant a lot more to me than it did to him.

Anger begins to simmer, pushing through the hurt and humiliation. How dare he make a date with me and then just not show up? I deserve better than this.

I march determinedly toward his hotel, just across the street from Central Park, ready to give him a piece of my mind. Doesn’t he know who I am? I’m Hailey freaking Warren, rising-star journalist. He can’t just treat me like this.

But as I approach the shining revolving doors, I hesitate. Is this really a good idea? Confronting him, letting him see how much he got to me?

My pride balks at the thought. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he hurt me.

I hover uncertainly outside the entrance, warring with myself. Confront him or let it go? Risk more humiliation or walk away with my head held high?

Tears I refused to shed earlier now prickle behind my eyes. I duck into the nearest subway station, needing to get away, get home. Slumping into a hard plastic seat, I lose the last of my energy as the train rattles through the tunnels.

Why do I care so much? It was one night, a fantasy. Princes don’t fall for ordinary girls like me. I knew it couldn’t last.

But that doesn’t stop the sharp ache in my chest, the irrational feeling that I just lost something precious. Something that could have been extraordinary.

Staring out the smudged window, I let the tears finally fall.

Getting off the train after a few stops, I walk up to ground level for cell service and call the first name in my favorites list. Millie. Always dependable, she picks up on the second ring.

“Hey, girl. How’d it go with Prince Charming today?” Her voice is bright, eager. I swallow hard.

“He didn’t show up, Mill. I waited for two hours like an idiot.” My voice cracks on the last word.

“What? Oh, Hailey, I’m so sorry. Well, maybe something happened and he’ll call you when things settle down?” Her endless optimism usually bolsters me, but right now it grates.

“He’s a prince, Millie. I was a fun diversion, that’s all. Time to face reality. And he doesn’t have my number. He didn’t even give me his.” A few more tears escape and I brush them away roughly. “Look, can I come over? I really don’t want to be alone right now.”

“Of course, sweetie, get your butt over here. I’ll supply the wine and ice cream, you supply the full scoop. Deal?”

Despite everything, a smile tugs at my lips. “Deal. Thanks, Mill. I’ll see you soon.”

I end the call and go back down into the tunnel to catch the next train. Once I have a seat, I lean my head back, suddenly exhausted. Watching the tunnel lights flash by, I let my mind drift, remembering stolen moments…

Luca’s hand warm on my back as we sat at dinner. The spark in his blue eyes when he laughed. The feel of his lips on my skin…

No. I firmly shut down that train of thought. However magical it felt, it wasn’t real. Couldn’t be real.

Time to pick up the pieces of my bruised heart and move on. I’ve gotten good at that over the years. This time won’t be any different.

I hope.

The train jolts to a stop and I stand, squaring my shoulders. One foot in front of the other. I can do this. Life goes on, with or without charming princes.

Even if a traitorous part of me desperately wishes this fairy tale could have lasted just a little bit longer.

The walk from the train stop to Millie’s is almost ten minutes — she’s definitely a trek from my place in Manhattan, but well worth it every time. She throws open the door before I can even knock, enveloping me in a tight hug. “Oh, Hailey, I’m so sorry. Come in, come in.”

She ushers me inside her cozy apartment, the smell of freshly baked cookies and finger paints mingling in the air. Squeals and laughter emanate from down the hall — her kids Lake and Howie caught up in their imaginary world of make-believe.

“Where’s Teddy?” I ask, looking around for her husband.

“He’s cycling with his friends. It’s his day off from parenting.” She’s already opening a bottle of wine. “Tomorrow’s mine.”

“That’s right.” Hope flickers in my heart. A girl’s day is something to look forward to.

“There’s a sound bath tomorrow morning at the old warehouse a few blocks over.” She pours me a glass of wine. “What do you think?”

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