Page 96 of The Princess and the Fraud

Once I started down the hallway that led to the back of the hotel, I broke into a little jog, shoes slapping against the carpeted floor with dull thuds. It was strange, running toward a situation I knew would change everything, but I wouldn’t hide from it anymore. I didn’t want to.

I shoved out the hotel’s back door, and if I took the pathway left, I’d make it to the parking lot. Instead, I took it to the right, to where the smoker’s lounge.

And I found him.

Aaron sat in the same seat he’d occupied back in June. If he lifted his head, he’d stare directly at me, but his focus was too locked on the gas flame of the firepit. It was the perfect spring night for him to be out here, with warmer temperatures and no wind, but something about the sight was wrong. Maybe it was the fact that he had no jacket on, and his shirt sleeves were pushed up to his elbows.

Or maybe it was his expression, which looked solost.

Discreetly, I shot a quick text to Annalise that I’d found him. With each step closer, the trembling underneath my skin intensified. I couldn’t think of a single thing to say other than, “Hey.”

Aaron lifted his head, the flames of the fire illuminating his surprise. “Hey.”

I wasn’t sure what I’d been expecting, but this version of Aaron was not it. He didn’t greet me with a smile, and he didn’t relax at the sight of me. His gaze was remote, expression unreadable beyond the shock of my appearance. He didn’t move.

“Waiting to bum a cigarette off someone?” I asked him.

At first, I thought he wouldn’t remember the joke. The barest smile touched his lips, almost appearing ghostly in the shadows the fire created. “Not a cigarette, no.”

“So you were waiting for someone?” I raised my eyebrows. “You have a romantic rendezvous planned? Should I leave?”

“I’d be very disappointed if you left me, Lovisa.”

I bit down on the inside of my cheek to fight off a smile. Clutching my phone tighter, I rounded a chair in front of the fire, sinking into it. The same chair I’d sat in back in June. “Lovisa,” I echoed to him. “You’re the only one who calls me that, you know. What’s so bad about Lovey?”

“If I were to call youLovey,” he murmured, gaze dropping to the fire, “I’m afraid it would quickly turn into me calling youlove.”

What’s so bad about love?The adrenaline of running through the hotel to find him was wearing off, and since anticipation accompanied it, there was no hope of calming my trembling. “What are you doing out here?”

“Thinking.” Aaron leaned back in his chair, quiet for a long moment. “About a lot of things.”

It was strange seeing him like this, especially since the last time had been so… different. Serious, but not like this. Not uneasy. The atmosphere was drastically different, in a way that made me hesitate.

“You heard, I’m assuming.” Aaron blinked at the fire. “About Fiona.”

Knowing Aaron never beat around the bush, I should’ve guessed he would’ve brought it up first. It was the distant way he spoke, though, that unsettled me further. The uneasy feeling intensified. I wanted to peer into his mind without forcing him to talk about it, to read what weighed on him without forcing him to draw it out. “Are you okay?”

He didn’t immediately answer. I waited without fidgeting, giving him as long as he needed. “Back in June—do you know why I was out here at one in the morning?”

“You said it was because you couldn’t sleep.”

“I was going to propose to Margot the next day.” Aaron let out a little breath. “Not at Annalise’s wedding. I’m not a monster. But afterward—I planned to give her the ring afterward.”

He had a faraway look in his eyes as he stared into the fire.

“I knew she didn’t want to marry me. It’s an odd thing, knowing someone doesn’t want to do something, but watching them do it anyway.”

“Except she didn’t. Marry you, I mean.”

He nodded. “But she would’ve. She told me she would’ve married me had I come to her earlier.”

“So why didn’t you?” I asked. “You knew of her since Christmas, right? Why did you wait to meet her until June?”

“I didn’t want to marry her either. I mean, in a way, I did,” he quickly amended, still focused on the fire. “I kept telling myself I did—I had to. But every time I’d pictured it—the wedding, the life that came after—it was like I couldn’t breathe. It’s the same with Fiona. I need to marry her, but I don’t want to.” Aaron dragged his hands down his face, his voice rough and raw. “God, I know that sounds ridiculous. I can’t—I can’t make it make sense.”

“You thought it was what you needed to impress your family,” I murmured gently, recalling our conversation from the elevator. “You thought marrying someone like Fiona or Margot would make them respect you.”

His hands dropped, and he looked at me with something raw and desperate in his eyes. “My brothers demoted me, my grandmother wouldn’t stop talking about seeing me married, and I knew my parents were just waiting for me to prove I could do something right. Margot Massey was supposed to be the solution. If marriage was the answer, she was perfect.”

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