Page 81 of The Impossible Princess
“Getting some real responsibility was supposed to solve all my problems, but I’ve been miserable. I binge-watched the entire Aksel Kroner catalog. You might have a point about all that penguin vomit.” I laugh. He doesn’t. “I kept thinking that if I’d told my mother I wouldn’t give you up, I could have won that battle too. You’ve always been on my side, and when she first came to me with those photos, I shouldn’t have abandoned you.” I speed up, as though I’m running out of time. “I’m so sorry, Max. If we could just be friends—”
“I don’t want to be friends,” he cuts me off, his voice a rough growl.
My breath catches, and I can’t seem to take another one. He grips the chain link over my hand. It’s the first touch I’ve had in weeks that I’ve wanted to lean into and savor. Group hugs with my sisters were not cutting it.
“I want to fight,” he continues, voice low and intent. “I want to drag you back to the cottage and argue loud enough to make the walls shake. And then I want—I want—” His chest rises and falls like he’s run a marathon. His eyes won’t let go of my face.
Hope comes roaring back. “I want that too.”
His breath stops and his eyes narrow. “Some photographer is probably standing in the bushes with a long lens.”
“I know,” I answer. In these last weeks, I’ve held my own against a tsunami of bad press. I’m not afraid of them. “I’m not going to live as a hostage to the tabloids.”
His face is guarded, and he releases a disbelieving breath. “What happens when your mother decides it’s time to move on from me?”
I can’t imagine a universe where I ever want to move on from Max.
“I told her I intend to fight for the things that matter to me.”
His hand grips mine and he takes a deep breath, nostrils flaring. “Do you know what it was like being out there without even the hope of coming home to you?”
I want to reach through the fence and touch his face but settle for grasping the fence with my other hand. I nod. “I kept trying to text you. I’d grab my phone and want to call—”
His hand covers mine. “We can’t do this if—I lied when I told you it was only dinner and then I lied when I said we could be just friends.Vede, Clara, I had a month to get over you and never even got started. And here’s the truth now. I love you, but I can’t do this if your heart’s not in it.”
His hand has become entangled with mine.
“I’m not asking for a promise,” he says. “We could crash and burn next week because you don’t like my floss—”
I grin. “I love your floss.”
“Or my taste in movies—”
“I already hate your taste in movies. I’ll always hate it.”
“Or you think my career is too inconvenient—”
“If anyone’s is inconvenient, Max, it’s mine.”
“You have to let me say this,” he scolds, fighting for air, “because when I’m done, I’m going to kiss until you go blind.”
Yes, please. “I’m listening.”
“I can’t do this unless there’s a chance for something that lasts. I can’t do it if you’re already planning to toss me over for some hollow-chested, in-bred constitutional monarch in the end. I won’t be a fling.”
“Oh, good,” I say, lifting my face. My voice is clear and firm. “I don’t play around.”
At my words, a smile tucks his mouth. Lines radiate from the corners of his eyes.
Braver than I’ve ever been, I say, “I love you.”
The smile fades, and I wonder if I’ve shocked him. Maybe he wants to go slower than this. Then he looks up, and I follow his gaze, my brow wrinkling. All I see are three meters of chain link topped with vicious-looking razor wire coils.
I gasp. “Don’t you dare. You’d be cut to ribbons.”
He gives a dissatisfied, thwarted grunt. “Do you have to get back to the palace?”
“I blocked out the rest of the day,” I say, tracing a square of chain link. “You know, just in case.”
