Alexander—we feel your absence acutely these days. James is growing like a weed, the spitting image of you. Such a handsome boy. He needs a father. All children do. I fear for him growing up without one.

Rob’s grandfather wrote back with a biting reply. You should’ve thought of that before you went to my wife. I had the situation under control. But now it is out of my hands—her people will make sure no one ever finds out about the boy. Which means this must be our last communication. James shall receive a monthly stipend from me. I shall keep him in my thoughts and prayers. But beyond that, I can do nothing for him. Forgive me, Catherine.

The letters were dated all the way to the nineties. There were even a slew of letters from James—ones he’d written in the seventies and eighties. Updates from his time at Eton. A transcript from St. Andrews. An especially poignant letter where he begged his father to attend his graduation. Each letter got shorter. Angrier.

You ruined my mother’s life, he wrote. And now that I am an adult, I understand how you ruined mine. The teasing at school. Being called a bastard. The whispers that broke out every time I entered a room. You left me to the wolves without a second thought.

My arms were covered in goosebumps by the time I finished reading it.

“Did he ever respond to James?” I asked. “Alexander, I mean.”

Rob shook his head. “He couldn’t. The Queen and her secretaries forbade it, and it was far too dangerous at that point anyway. My parents had gotten engaged right around that time, and public interest in our family soared. The press was becoming more and more intrusive. He knew they’d find out about James if he began communicating with him.” He swallowed. His voice cracked. “I feel horribly for him—James. I can’t imagine how horrid being abandoned like that must’ve been.”

My eyes pricked with tears. I ran a hand across Rob’s broad back. He glanced at the letters. “One more—that one there, from the Queen to Alexander.”

I opened it.

We were happy once, weren’t we? Difficult to remember after all this time. I’ve tried for twenty years to forgive you. I can’t. There’s no solid ground to be had between us. The grief you’ve caused me has swallowed me whole.

“Holy shit, Robert,” I said.

He scoffed again. His knee bobbed against mine.

I didn’t even know where to begin. I was overwhelmed.

“Where’d you get these letters?” I asked, turning my head to look at him.

He put his elbows on his knees. “My grandfather gave them to me right before he died. Literally handed me the packet from his death bed and said, ‘We’re the same, you and I. Marriage is a shackle for men like us. Don’t make the same mistake I did, or you’ll end up destroying everything that matters to you’. Up until then, I’d believed in the myth, too—the one where he was the hero. But that day I learned he was…quite the opposite.”

Heat rushed to my eyes. I blinked back tears. Jesus Christ, no wonder Rob had been torn up about Alexander’s death. Not only was he grieving the loss of his grandfather.

He was grieving the loss of the man he thought he knew. The man he thought he’d grow up to be one day.

That day, Rob had learned his grandfather wasn’t a hero. He’d also learned he wasn’t a hero, either. We’re the same. Alexander all but told Robert he’d become a monster, too.

Jesus Christ.

“Your grandfather said all that to you?”

“He did.” He scoffed again. “If he’d just waited to settle down—or never settled down at all—he believed none of that would’ve ever happened.”

I was really crying now.

“That’s not true,” I said.

He looked at me. “Definitely wouldn’t have hurt.”

“Rob.” I put my hand on his shoulder. “I am so, so sorry.”

He shook his head, turning it to look at me. “I’m him all over again, Aly. Sometimes the Queen can’t even look at me. She tries to hide it. But there’s a reason why Kit’s her favorite, and I’m not.”

I was sad. But now I was getting angry, too. How dare Alexander fuck with his grandson’s head like this? He’d ruined his own life. The Queen’s. James’s. Because apparently that hadn’t been enough, then he’d gone and tried to ruin Rob’s, too. Rob, the kid who’d idolized the only real father figure he’d ever known.

“That’s not true,” I repeated, my voice wobbling. “None of it is true, Rob.”

Rob’s gaze was searing. I didn’t see Alexander in his eyes. But I did see pain. Confusion. “I’m telling you, Aly, this shit is passed down. He told me so. His father was the same. His father’s father, too.”

Outrage gripped my heart and squeezed.

“I think that’s bullshit,” I said. “No offense. You’re not taking into account how differently you were raised. And what about personal choice? Don’t you think you can learn from how he screwed up and choose to be different? Mind over matter, Rob. It’s a real thing.”

He looked at me. “Maybe. But I saw firsthand how much hurt I can cause by committing to something—someone. He crushed Catherine. Destroyed James. And my grandmother—God, Aly, she’s so bitter, and so bloody lonely. He broke her heart, over and over again.” His eyes were filling with tears now, too. “I’m terrified of doing that to someone. He was in love with her. And he tried to be good. Told me as much. But he ended up destroying her happiness. James’s, too. He couldn’t be the man they needed. He wasn’t cut out for it. Neither am I.”

For what felt like the hundredth time tonight, I was speechless. My hands clenched into fists on my lap. Rob really believed this about himself? This rubbish fed to him by a careless, backward old man?

Then again, Rob’s parents had died when he was very young. He’d clearly clung to his grandfather like glue, maybe because he thought they were alike. I thought about my own family and the roles we’d unintentionally assigned each other and ourselves. Whether or not they fit, we’d still taken them on. The nerd. The athlete. The savior. Rob had been assigned the naughty playboy. A role he’d taken up with gusto. To feel closer to his grandfather? To make his older brother Kit—the white knight—shine that much brighter?

We were all desperate for our family’s love. I just wondered how far Rob believed he had to go to earn it.

“I refuse to believe that’s who you really are,” I countered. “From what I just read, your grandfather didn’t seem very kind. Or thoughtful. Doesn’t sound like he came through on his promises very often. But you do, Rob.”

He stared at the carpet between his knees. “I do now, yeah. But how can I guarantee that I won’t fuck things up eventually? I always do, Aly. How can I guarantee that I won’t eventually end up slaughtering a woman’s heart the way he did?”

I took a breath. Swallowed. So that was the crux of it. My heart broke for him. What he was looking for—the assurance, the crystal ball telling him it wouldn’t happen—it didn’t exist. No one could give that to him.

“There is no guarantee,” I said, picking out my words carefully. “None of us gets one. You just try your best and make good decisions and hope things turn out okay. You are not him, Rob.”

Swinging his head to look at me, Rob rubbed his palms together, making the muscles in his back bunch against his shirt. “I won’t risk it, sweetheart. Maybe I’m an animal like him. Maybe I’m not. But I won’t risk hurting someone the way he hurt her.”

“An animal?” I stared at him. “Are you serious? That’s not you. Not when you’re with me.”

He nudged my knee with his. “You’ve known me all of six months, Aly. Trust me when I say you deserve better.”

“You keep saying that. And I’m going to keep telling you I’ll be the judge of what I deserve.”

Silence, heated and painful, stretched between us. I looked away. Ran my hands down my legs, smoothing my dress. The dress. When I was putting it on earlier tonight, I’d told myself I was wearing it for Philip. He always complimented me when I dressed up; I knew he’d like it. But deep down, I think I’d put it on for Rob. I’d had no idea I’d see him, of course. But I liked the way it made me feel, imagining how he’d react if he saw me in it.

For once, the reality had been better than the fantasy. The way he’d looked at me across the bar—like I was the only girl in the room, the world, the universe—no one had ever looked at me that way before. It’d been like something out of a fairy tale. Only better, because it was real.

The desire and respect and awe I felt for this man was real.

“Look,” I said, my heart fluttering like a panicked bird inside my chest. “I understand our rules. I was the one who made them. But I don’t understand how these letters can get in the way of what’s happening between us. Rob, I don’t want to care about you. But I do. I’m pretty damn sure you care about me, too. So stop punishing yourself for a crime you’ll probably never commit and give this a chance.”

Rob’s brow creased. His whole face creased with pain. His eyes were wet with tears.

A beat later, he set his jaw. His eyes went hard. It was like a mask had descended, his mood completely transformed in the space of a few seconds.

My heart turned over. I recognized this sudden transformation. It’d happened that day in the car after we’d been surprised by the paparazzi. Rob was shutting down. Pushing me away.

“You’re not hearing me, Aly,” he replied, raising his voice. “I’m not fucking doing this, all right? What don’t you get about that?”

I refused to jump at his shout, or back down. But inside, I was scared. Not of him. I was scared of losing him. Of losing this fairy tale before it even began.

“I see what you’re doing,” I said.

“Yeah?” He stood and stared down at me. “And what’s that?”

I stood, too, leaning in so our faces were inches apart. “You’re trying to push me away by being an asshole.”

He shook his head, scoffing. “See, that’s what you don’t get. I am an asshole. Deep down. And not even a pretty, deluded little thing like you can change that.”

I stared at him. I didn’t know what hurt more. The pretty little thing bit. Or the deluded one. I gritted my teeth.

“That’s going too far.”

He ducked his head. Got in my face. “That’s the point.”

I kept staring at him, my breath coming hot and fast through my nose. He was breathing hard, too. There was a glint in his eye—an edge of anger, and hate. Fear.

“You’re really going to do this,” I said.

He rolled his lips between his teeth. “I have to. Aly, you have to go.”

I blinked back the sudden sting of new tears.

There was no point in arguing. It was clear he wasn’t changing his mind. If he truly believed he was an animal—a scumbag, just like his grandfather—nothing I could say would convince him otherwise.

He was telling me he’d only hurt me in the end. I’d probably be smart to listen.

Still, my heart felt like a lead weight in my chest when I took a step back. I ached everywhere—between my legs, my lips. “I really hate that you think that way about yourself.”

He shrugged, looking away. He was trying to hide the hurt in his eyes, and failing.

“What are you going to do?” I continued, a last ditch effort. “Sleep with the whole city? Never let yourself fall in love?”

His eyes met mine. My heart began to pound. Why couldn’t I read him? I was shaking again. Uncontrollably.

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t let myself fall in love. I said I wouldn’t let anyone fall in love with me.” He closed his eyes. Rubbed them with his thumb and forefinger. When he spoke, his voice shook with emotion. “Please. Please try to understand, all right?”

I didn’t understand.

But eventually I did go.