WHEN I OPEN MY EYES the next morning, it’s dusk, a glow from the television illuminating the room. My body is toasty warm, my mind peaceful, and my head is rising and falling in time with Josh’s breathing beneath my cheek. The expanse of his chest is before me, my hand resting on his pec, my leg tossed over his thighs. I crane my neck up, finding him looking down at me, his back resting against the headboard. “You comfy down there?” He dips and gives my head a chaste kiss as my limbs start to involuntarily spread, stretching wonderfully.
“Oh, God,” I groan, every muscle pulling satisfyingly. “What time is it?”
“Seven.” He shuffles down the bed, maneuvering my body as he does until we’re on our sides, face to face.
“Why is the television on?”
His lips purse, a grin in hiding. “I heard there’s some breaking news on the horizon.”
The press release. My tummy flutters, part nerves, part excitement, as my eyes divert from Josh to the television where BBC news is Josh’s channel of choice. It’s so utterly ridiculous that two people dating is deemed news worthy. “Do we know when this news might break?”
“I can’t imagine it’ll be long before the media goes into meltdown.” Placing his hand on my naked hip, he flexes his grip, winning back my attention. “You’re nervous.”
I’m quick to set him straight. “Mostly, I’m excited. Just to know there will be no more sneaking around. I’m not nervous about the reaction of the world, more the retaliation of my family.”
Josh smiles, though small and understanding. “We haven’t discussed what will happen once the dust settles.”
“If it ever settles,” I mumble, taking my praying hands and nestling them under my cheek on the pillow.
“It will settle.” A little squeeze of my hip is a warning to have a little more faith. “And then we need to think about what happens from there.”
“What do you mean?”
He rolls his eyes, a little exasperated. “It may have escaped your notice, but I’m not from around these parts.”
“Oh,” I breathe, feeling a bit silly. The logistics of our relationship haven’t cost me a thought, when it really should have cost me plenty. “Well, clearly you have thought about it.”
“Not stopped,” he admits unashamedly.
“And?”
“And I want you in the States with me. Everywhere with me, actually. Wherever I go, I want you by my side.”
That sounds just about perfect, even if it is unrealistic. “You realize the logistics of that would be near-on impossible?”
“Why?”
“Because you are you and I am me. Not to mention the fact that I am likely to be stripped of all privileges, and that will include my allowances and security.” The consequences of my relationship with Josh don’t bother me in the slightest, but it isn’t until this moment that I have considered the strain it might have on Josh. The financial strain especially, because I sure as hell know that protection doesn’t come cheap. I roll onto my back, feeling myself deflating.
A low growl rumbles up from his toes, and he’s on me quickly, scowling. “Stop that.”
“I never—” A firm palm lands over my mouth.
“One more word out of you, you’ll regret it.” Tilting his head, eyes full of annoyance, he slowly peels his hand away. “Understood?”
“Understood.” I’m ready to ask exactly how I might regret it—I need details—but I get distracted by the TV. I hear the mention of the Royals, and Josh must catch it too, because he catapults up, facing the screen. My damn heart is in my throat as I sit up, my hand searching for Josh’s to hold. This is it. D-Day, so to speak. The world will know about Josh and me dating.
But I frown when the scene on the television registers, the journalist not in a TV studio like I would have expected, but outside instead, in what looks like the English countryside. There are no pictures of me or of Josh. It’s the King of England’s face displayed in the top right-hand corner of the screen, on the day of his coronation. What’s going on?
I sit forward, listening carefully, as the reporter signals behind him. “It’s reported that the helicopter experienced a mechanical fault mid-flight and came down in the fields beyond the trees late last night.” I frown as the camera zooms in on those trees, panning the far side of the field. “The King was on his way back to London from his royal residence in Scotland.” My heart is suddenly a rock in my chest. “He was confirmed dead at the scene.”
A violent wail saturates the room, and it takes a few confusing seconds for me to realize where it has come from.
Me.
“Fuckin’ hell.” Josh grabs me quickly, pushing my shaking body into his chest, shouting above my head. “Tammy!” He gets a robe around me, fastening it loosely before he pulls his boxers on, reclaiming me. “Tammy!”
I can hear the reporter talking still, telling the world that King Alfred is dead. My father is dead. No. No, that can’t be. It must be a sick hoax. I wrestle my way out of Josh’s hold, my vision hampered by floods of tears. I roughly brush them away, getting to my feet and approaching the television. Josh is behind me quickly, trying to pull my vibrating form back to the bed. I fight him with all I have. “Get off me,” I yell, shoving him away.
The camera falls back onto the journalist, his face obviously solemn. “The details are sketchy and the crash site cornered off for a mile in every direction,” he goes on. “Not much is clear, only one thing. We’ve lost our King and the world is in mourning.” Shock eats my muscles away, and I drop to my knees before the screen, transfixed by the man who is telling me that my father is dead.
I hear Josh curse from behind me, helpless, and I hear the door fly open. I cast my bleary gaze across the room, where Tammy has a laptop in her arms, a disturbed look on her face. “Prince John was on board, too.”
“Oh, Jesus.” Josh’s hands go to his hair, and my eyes fall to my lap, darting chaotically. “He can’t have been,” I choke quietly, trying to straighten out my tangled head. Think clearly. “No, it can’t be.”
Josh joins me on the floor, taking my hands and feeling. “Adeline?”
“John couldn’t have been on the flight,” I say again, this time clearer, looking across to Tammy. “The Monarch and the Heir Apparent never travel together. For this exact reason.” My hand shoots to the television, though I can’t bring myself to look. “My father would never have broken age-old rules. He was a stickler for rules.” Never would the King have let John travel with him. I just know he wouldn’t.
Tammy shakes her head, as if she doesn’t know what to say. “I’m just telling you what my source has told me.”
“Your source must be wrong.” I stand, and it takes me a while, my legs like jelly. “What if everyone is wrong?” This time, I do look at the TV, and I wish I hadn’t. There’s an aerial view of a field, the crumpled remains of the royal helicopter scattered over every square meter of it. “Oh my God.” I’m pulled back, my face forced away from the TV. “I need my phone,” I demand, heading for Tammy. “I need to call Damon.”
“I turned it off in case they were tracking you.” She pulls it from her pocket quickly, and once I’ve wrestled with my trembling hands to switch it on, I see the dozens and dozens of missed calls from Damon, Davenport, even my mother. And I know that the nightmare behind me being broadcasted to every country in the world is true. My hands shake as I fight to unlock the screen, and when I eventually dial Damon, he answers with it barely ringing. The tone of his voice is like I have never heard before. Anxious. It adds credence to the reported news. “Adeline, where are you?”
Emotion tightens my throat. “Tell me they’re wrong,” I sob, feeling Josh close behind me, ready to catch me when my fears are confirmed. “Tell me there’s been a massive mistake.”
“I can’t,” Damon breathes, and I fold, agony ripping me in two, my cries wretched and broken. I can’t keep hold of the phone, can’t keep myself upright. My landing is softened by Josh, and he finds my mobile, taking over the call.
“Damon, it’s Josh.” He uses his free arm to pull my jerking body onto his lap, and I make myself as small as I can in his chest, my mind muddled, my devastation growing. “And John?” he asks, following it up with a curse.
“No,” I cry, pushing my face into Josh’s chest, like I can disappear into my heaven and escape this hell. His hand is on the back of my head, holding, stroking, trying to comfort me.
“I’ll bring her back now,” Josh says, all kinds of unease in his voice. “You need to prepare for her arrival . . . Yes . . . Good.” He hangs up, but he doesn’t move, keeping us on the floor, holding me. “I need to take you back to Claringdon, baby.”
“This is all my fault.” Regret and guilt tear through me, destroying everything in their path. Destroying me.
“No,” Josh snaps. “Don’t you start talking like that, Adeline.” He forces me from his body, looking fuming mad, but his hands in contrast stroke my face softly. “You didn’t tell him to follow you to Scotland. You didn’t tell him to chase you back to London.”
My chin trembles uncontrollably. “I need to see my mum. And Eddie. I need to see Eddie.”
“I’m taking you back now.” He looks past me to Tammy, giving her a sharp nod. “It’ll be chaos outside the palace. The Met are controlling the growing crowds and Damon is sending a few more cars to escort us.”
“Got it.”
“The press release?”
“I stalled.” Tammy doesn’t sound apologetic. “I . . . I wanted to make sure you were as sure this morning.”
Josh breathes out, obviously relieved. “Adeline.” He coaxes me out of his lap gently. “You need to dress, baby. I’m taking you home.”
I don’t have the will or inclination to make myself look half decent. So Josh is forced to dress me himself, while I try to wrap my mind around what is happening.
I can’t.
This can’t be real.