Page 63 of Royal Darling
“Emma,” Anna calls, “please come back. Alexandra, please. This is family time.” Her voice is choked. She’s teary because she never had family before ours, being an orphan. She’s always saying how glad she is to have us, but I’m sorry, I simply cannot stay in the same room as Mother. I am done.
Jackson is silent by my side.
“Sorry to bring you into this family disharmony,” I say.
“Sorry you have family disharmony,” he says. “I get the feeling it’s new for you.”
I gesture wildly. “As long as you do what’s expected, everyone loves you. Step one toe over the line and you’re a whore.”
He grimaces.
The moment I get into the privacy of my suite, I head straight for the bathroom, lock the door, and burst into tears. I tried so hard to own my newfound pride in who I am. I don’t want it to matter so much that my mother has shut me out because of it.
The doorknob rattles. “Babe, don’t cry. Let’s play guitar. Pour that into the music.”
I wipe my tears, but they just keep coming. “I can’t seem to stop crying. You go ahead and play.” I sink to the floor and draw up my knees as another sob racks my body, heaving wrenching sobs, one after the other. A delayed reaction to grief, I don’t know. I’m crying for everything I’ve lost and there’s just so much.
A few twanging notes reach my ears between sobs and then abruptly stop. I sniffle, grab a tissue and blow my nose. One look in the bathroom mirror at my ruined smudged eye makeup, my red nose, and tearstained cheeks gets me sobbing all over again.
The door pops open a moment later. He must’ve picked the lock. Jackson takes me in, his eyes soft.
I try to stop crying, but I can’t.
He scoops me up without a word and carries me to bed, pulling back the covers and setting me down. I curl onto my side, crying into my pillow. The light goes out and he’s at my back, spooning me from behind, stroking my hair.
Finally, I run out of tears, completely exhausted. I drift off to sleep, telling myself tomorrow will be better. It was an emotional day.
Only when I wake, Jackson is gone.
His bag and guitar are gone.
There’s only a scrawled note ripped from his music notepad. I read it with shaking hands.
Emma,
I’m causing more trouble than I’m worth. Make up with your family and be the person you were meant to be, a princess. Thanks for the gift of your music. Keep playing.
Jackson
This is allherfault. I will never forgive her.
18
Jackson
I’m leaving for Emma’s own good. She belongs here, living the royal life, and she can’t do that with me. I don’t belong, her mum made it clear I don’t belong, and all I’m doing is causing a bigger rift between them. It’s not like Emma and I ever had a future. I was a temporary diversion from her real life.
I head for the dock with my stuff. My trip from palace to dock was uneventful. Emma slept in for once, after crying herself to sleep, so I was able to quietly leave. I found her maid, Lina, on her way up to check on Emma, concerned she’d slept in, and Lina arranged a lift to the port for me.
I board the houseboat and unlock the cabin, checking the interior for damage in my absence. It looks the same, except the rubbish was taken out for me. Images of Emma flash through my mind—finding her sleeping in my bed in that hideous wig, me trying to convince her to leave my boat while she gazed at me with her big innocent eyes. Not so innocent anymore thanks to me. I ruined her, and the least I can do is steer clear so she can rise back to the level she was born to.
I set my duffel bag and guitar case in the bedroom and peek in the loo. Everything is soaked like it rained in here. Someone left the window open. I bet it was Emma trying to air it out after puking her guts up, and forgetting about it. Somehow I think there’s always going to be reminders of her. I’ve never lived with a woman before, never shared a holiday with them, and I made a muck of things, didn’t I?
I head to the controls and start it up. Fuel level is good. It’s Christmas day, and I’m heading home. Not because I want to see my family or my mates. I need to get to the studio and record all the music I made with Emma before I lose it. It’s mostly in my head—her sweet angelic voice, her melodies, countermelodies, and harmonies. I can’t lose the music and her. I just can’t. If I do, I won’t ever get the music back again.
I have to stop overnight before finishing the trip, which is annoying, but I can’t travel at night easily with the controls on this thing. I dock in northern France and see if I can make do with what remains of my nonperishable food. I’ve got a bag of crisps. Perfect. I shove a handful in my mouth and help myself to a glass of water. The water quickly peters out to a slow trickle and then stops. I stare at the empty faucet. What the—Emma. Had to be. She probably ran the water for an ungodly amount of time, doing who knows what, unaware that fresh water on a boat does run out. She’s ignorant of real-world stuff because she’s a sheltered princess. The only reason she sought out someone like me was to get a taste of how the other half lived.
Fuck it. I’ll take the tequila. What’s left of it after she helped herself.
