“Tessa, get up, Twinkle.”

“I don’t want to,” I say, stuffing my face into my pillow, my stomach lurching as I realize it’s been fourteen days and ten hours since Arthur walked out of my life forever. Other than the one phone call we haven’t spoken, texted, emailed, or snapped each other the entire time. Each day starts with a kick to the gut as reality sets in.

“But you must. You’ve got an appointment with that nice Olivia for your final dress fitting.”

Shit. She’s right. I have to go. Olivia’s expecting the final five-hundred-dollar payment on the dress I’ll never wear. I lay there for another minute, listening as my mum swipes through my closet looking for an appropriate outfit.

“I’m surprised you and Arthur haven’t sorted this out yet. You young people these days don’t seem to have the fortitude to fix your problems. It’s quite disappointing, really.”

“Please, not now.” I sit up and swing my legs over the side of the bed.

“Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad.”

“Yes, it can.”

“Did he cheat on you?”

“No.”

“Did you cheat on him?”

“No.”

“Is he cruel?”

“No, of course not.”

“Is he bad in the sack?”

“Mum!”

“No, I suppose not.”

“I don’t want to talk about it. I should have a shower.”

“Yes, you’re getting a bit ripe,” she says, opening the window to let the early morning spring air into the room. “Breakfast is on the table, so hurry along before Mr. Whiskers helps himself.”

As soon as the door shuts I dissolve into tears, shocked at how things have gotten as far as they have. I know it’s for the best. Really, I do. It’s just hard to work out why sometimes things that are ‘for the best’ hurt like hell.

* * *

Xavier is waiting when my mum and I walk out the front door. Each morning I expect to find that he’s no longer here, but so far he remains, his usual smile fixed in place. “Good morning, ladies! Spring is finally here. I see your tulips are coming up, Mrs. S. Very nice.”

Mum blushes. “Thank you, dear.”

He opens the door for us. “Mine are still barely peeking through the ground. What kind of fertilizer do you use?”

Their conversation fades into the background as my mind takes over. I wonder if he knows but he’s just very good at pretending. I wonder if they all know already at the palace. The thought makes my stomach churn because soon the entire nation will know and I’ll forever be known as the woman who couldn’t keep her Prince Charming. But who cares what they think, really? They never liked me anyway.

My phone buzzes and I pull it out of my purse, my heart pounding in hopes that it’s Arthur.

Text from Nikki: It’s my day off. Any chance you can come over so we can order curry and watch cheesy movies?

Me: I’m on my way to a very ironic dress fitting, then straight to the office.

Nikki: Damn. Any word from your man?

Me: Thankfully, no.

Nikki: Sigh. You sure that this is what you want? I mean he’s super hot and crazy rich and really fun.

Me: He’s also a liar and possibly a cheat.

Nikki: I almost think he’s got so much going for him that I’d be willing to overlook that if I were you.

* * *

“There’s our beautiful bride!” Olivia claps her hands and hurries across the airy loft that is both her home and studio.

I smile, hoping I look convincing. “Olivia, lovely to see you.”

“The dress is all ready for you in the change room.” She turns to my mum. “Can I get you a tea or a water, Mrs. Sharpe?”

“No, don’t fuss over me. I’m fine.”

I hurry to the change room so I can get this over with. I undress and carefully take the gown off the hanger, then step into it.

“Let me know when you’re ready for me to do up the buttons!” Olivia calls.

I put my hands into the long lace sleeves and pull them up to my shoulders, keeping my head down. I do not want to see the final product. Not now.

“You ready, Tessa?”

I pull the curtain to the side and nod, then turn so my back is to her. My hair is swept up off my neck so it won’t be in her way. I feel the tug and pull as she makes quick work of the buttons that go all the way up the back of the bodice.

“How are you going to do your hair?”

“Um, up, I think. I’m not quite sure.”

“Oh, yes. You look lovely with your hair up. But, also with it down. It falls so beautifully around your shoulders,” she remarks. Olivia stares at my face in the mirror, then says, “Are you all right, Tessa? You don’t seem like yourself today.”

“Oh, I’m just tired.”

“You must be so busy. I can’t even imagine everything that goes into planning a royal wedding.”

I laugh awkwardly. “I couldn’t have imagined it before either.”

When she finishes, she pats me on the upper arms and says, “Gorgeous. Let’s go make your mum cry.”

I step out of the dressing room and out onto the circular white rug. My mum sits on an armchair and tears up immediately when she sees me. I do the same.

“You’re a vision.” She stands and walks over to me. “An absolute angel. Arthur’s heart is going to stop when he sees you.”

No it won’t, because he won’t ever see me in this.

She reaches out and lifts my chin so I have to look in the mirror. The woman staring back at me is unrecognizable. The dress is perfect for a future queen—a delicate lace fitted bodice with long sleeves and a full skirt with a simple but long train. But it’s not perfect for me. This is someone else’s dress and Arthur is someone else’s groom.

I’m no princess. I’m just a girl who fooled herself into believing that fairy tales are real. But they aren’t, and even if they were mine would have ended two weeks ago.

* * *

“Can I see it?” Poppy, who needed to come home from school at lunch today due to a fever, follows me up the stairs as I lug the dress that has been carefully tucked into a garment bag.

“I’m not supposed to take it out of the bag in case it gets ripped or otherwise damaged. It’s very delicate.”

“Puleeaasse? I won’t touch it, I promise.”

“No, Poppy. I really can’t. Not right now, okay?” My words come out louder than I mean and she shrinks a little.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to raise my voice. I’m just a little stressed.”

“Are you turning into a Bridezilla? Tabitha said you’d probably go all crazy before the wedding.”

“I’m not…I promise not to turn into a Bridezilla. I just have a lot on my mind and I have to get to work. I took the morning off, but if I don’t hurry up my boss is going to fire me.” My arm aches under the weight of the dress. I really should have stuck with the upper body routine Xavier set out for me.

“Are you going to keep your job after you get married to Prince Arthur? Mum says it’s ridiculous that you think you’re going to keep working. She said your job as a princess will keep you so busy that you won’t have time to work. Plus, it’s silly for you to bring home a tiny paycheck to the palace when your husband is sinfully rich.”

“Oh, did she say all that?”

“Yup. And Dad agreed.” Poppy nods her little head up and down, looking very much like her mother at the moment. “But he may have just been saying ‘mmmhmm, yes, dear’ without really listening to her. He was watching cricket on his phone at the time.”

“Okay, well, thank you, Poppy. I’d better hang this up and head out the door.”

My dad appears at the bottom of the staircase. “Poppy, what are you doing off the couch, love? Grandmum said I’m to keep you lying down until your fever’s gone.”

Poppy sighs and turns, letting her shoulders droop as she clomps down the stairs, now reminding me very much of me.

I walk into my room and wrench open the closet door. Where the fuck am I supposed to keep a dress this big? I mean, seriously, I’d have to remove every article of clothing in my closet to get it in there. Glancing at the clock, I realize I don’t have time to figure this out right now. I lay the garment bag on my bed, then shut the door to my room firmly. As I hurry out the front door, I call, “Bye, everyone! Leave the door to my room shut so Mr. Whiskers won’t get at my dress!”

* * *

“Tessa! There you are!” Hazel’s voice curves around the glass wall of her office and smacks me in the face.

I hover over my chair, not sure if I should finish sitting down at my desk or get back up. Sitting sounds good. “Sorry, the dress fitting took longer than I expected.”

“Forget that. What can you tell me about the Princess Dowager?”

“Umm, she was born in Belgium, actually, but moved here when she was six. She still heads up over fifty charities and she’s really quite funny when you get to know her.”

“No, not her history. Her condition.” Hazel walks out of her office and comes to stand in front of me.

“What condition?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know.”

“Know what?”

Hazel gives me a sly smile. “Oh, you’re good. I’d almost think you haven’t heard.”

“Heard what?”

“Oh, fine, if you don’t want to say anything you could just at least just say that instead of playing dumb.”

“I’m not playing.” There’s a distinct edge to my voice that I shouldn’t use with my boss. “What happened to Princess Florence?” I stand.

“She was taken to the hospital early this morning. No one knows why.”

I grab my purse off my desk. “I have to go.”

“Text me as soon as you know anything! I want the lead on this!” Hazel calls.

* * *

Xavier, who’s sitting in a chair facing the lift, closes this month’s edition of Extreme Health Magazine and stands.

I push the down button to the lift and dig around in my purse for my mobile. “We need to get to the hospital straightaway.”

“Oh, good. I hoped you’d decide to go see her.”

“You knew?” I ask, irritation flooding through me. “Wait, of course you knew. You know everything that goes on, don’t you?”

Xavier’s face gives nothing away. “It’s best to act as though we aren’t aware of the personal lives of the family. It’s the only way anyone can feel comfortable being guarded.”

“Well, you could have told me this.” The door opens and we get on together, riding down in silence.

When we reach the main floor Xavier steps off ahead of me, holding his arm back as he always does to keep me from getting off before he’s had a chance to survey the area. I push past him and rush to the door. I’m done waiting patiently.

* * *

By the time we arrive at the hospital I’m a mess, not sure if I should go in or stay out. I texted Arabella on the way, but haven’t gotten a response. What if no one in the family wants me there? What if they refuse to let me in to see Princess Florence? Or worse, kick me out? What if she didn’t make it?

I force my legs to keep moving in the direction of the front desk, trying to swallow my fear. “Ms. Sharpe. This way.”

I turn and see Vincent’s kind face. “Oh, Vincent, thank God. I just heard. Is she going to be all right?”

“I’ll let the family fill you in on the details as they see fit.”

As they see fit? Hmph. “Thank you.”

When we reach a door marked private, Vincent knocks gently. The door swings open to reveal Arthur standing directly in front of us, looking a little disheveled even though he’s dressed impeccably. His mouth drops open when he sees me.

“I’m sorry. I probably shouldn’t have come. If you want me to go, I will.”

“No, I’m glad you’re here.” He steps aside to let me in to what I now see is a small waiting room with two love seats and a television. “She’s in surgery. Triple bypass.”

Arabella is sitting on one of the love seats. She gets up and comes to me, hugging me tightly and sobbing on my shoulder. I wrap my arms around her and rub her back with one hand. “She’ll be okay. She’s the toughest person I know.”

“She is, isn’t she?” Arabella pulls back and wipes her eyes.

She sits down and I sit next to her, needing to keep a physical distance between myself and Arthur. It hurts just to look at him. Arthur’s eyebrows knit together when he sees I’ve decided to sit with his sister, but then he seems to accept it. We sit, the ticking of the wall clock filling the empty space, each click of the second hand bringing another small measure of worry.

After a long time, Arabella says, “I think I’m going to go home so I can shower and rest a bit.”

“Okay,” Arthur says with a little nod.

“Thank you for coming, Tessa.” She pats me on the leg and gives me a long look, filled with meaning. “I hope you’ll be here when I return.”

“Me, too.”

As soon as she’s gone, I glance at Arthur and see that he’s staring at me. He nods, his eyes glistening. “Thank you.”

“There’s nowhere else I’d want to be.”

“I know.” His voice is somber. “And I know this doesn’t change how you feel.”

“Good. I wasn’t sure how to say that.” I give him a sad smile. “There’s a danger in these situations to let the emotion of the moment take over.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t allow that,” he says. “But would you mind terribly if we sit next to each other anyway?”

I stand, nodding, my eyes filling with tears as I cross the room to him. I settle myself on the love seat, then take his hand. He squeezes it tight, then winds his fingers through mine and it almost breaks my heart to feel the familiar, beautiful warmth of his skin. I lean my head on his shoulder and let silent tears fall. Tears for Princess Florence, tears for Arthur and all he’s lost, tears for me and what I’m giving up. I feel Arthur’s head resting on mine and we stay like this for a long time, just breathing together and feeling what the moment holds.

The sky has grown dark by the time I wake. I’m tucked in Arthur’s arms, and by the calm rhythm of his breath I know he’s asleep. I don’t dare move, even though my right leg has gone all tingly. I won’t wake him for fear that this will be the last time we’ll wake up together. I want to stay right here in his arms forever, but I know any minute someone will come through that door and this will end.

He stirs a little and pulls me closer, making a small sound. I lay against him, listening to his heartbeat against my ear. I know this heart. It will someday beat for someone else, and I think that might just about kill me when it happens. All too soon he wakes and sits up a bit, moving me with him. I let go and sit up straight.

“Sorry for the unauthorized cuddling,” he says. “Habit.”

“No need to apologize. It might have been me who started it.”

“I miss everything about you, Tessa.”

“Arthur, please,” I whisper.

He looks down at me, his eyes filled with pain. “Please, what?”

The door swings open and light fills the room. A tall man in scrubs walks into the room, looking tired but smiling. “I’m Doctor Philps.”

Arthur and I stand to greet him, squeezing each other’s hands.

“The surgery went better than can be expected with someone of the Princess Dowager’s advanced age. She’s a real fighter. She remained stable long enough for us to clear out all the blockages and is doing remarkably well.”

Arthur lets out a long breath. “Thank you. That’s wonderful news.”

Dr. Philps nods. “She’ll be in recovery for the next couple of hours, but then you can see her.”

He leaves us alone, and Arthur lets go of my hand so he can take his phone out of his suit jacket. “I should let Arabella know.”

“Yes, and I’m sure you need to draft an official statement.”

Nodding, Arthur says, “Yes, of course.”

“I’ll go so you can get to it.” I stop myself from giving him a goodbye kiss, then turn to leave.

“Tessa?”

When I look back at him, his face is full of meaning.

“It’s best if I go.” I force myself to open the door, and turn down the hall and out of his life forever.

* * *

Silent tears slide down my cheeks the entire ride home. I smell like him, and I don’t even want to shower again because I can’t bear the thought of allowing even the smallest hint of Arthur down the drain. Maybe we could make this work, after all. It just felt so right when we were together today—like all my doubts disappeared when it was just the two of us.

“You okay, Tessa?” Xavier asks from the driver’s seat.

I nod and try to smile, looking in the rearview mirror to meet his gaze. “No,” I whisper.

“I know,” he says. “But at least the Princess Dowager will be. That’s the important thing.”

“Yes, it is.”

What if I’m making the worst mistake of my life? What if we could build a wonderful life together? I stare out the window at the moon, and say a silent prayer for a sign. Something, anything, that will tell me what I should do.

* * *

My mum greets me as soon as I come up the front steps of the house, her face full of sorrow.

“It’s okay. She’ll pull through, Mum.”

“I heard on the radio. It’s not that.” She swallows, a guilty look on her face.

I close my eyes, not wanting to hear whatever is coming at me next.

“Poppy wanted to see your dress, so she snuck up when we thought she was asleep.”

“That’s okay. I’m sure it’s fine.” I shrug. “Did she have sticky fingers or something?”

“She left the bag open…and then she left the door open,” she says sheepishly.

I freeze, already angry at what I know has happened. “Mr. Whiskers?”

“I’m so sorry. He had an absolute heyday in there. It was like he was filled with rage at that dress for some reason.”

I slide my shoes off and start slowly up the stairs without saying anything.

“Do you want something to eat? I could heat up some leftover lamb stew.”

“No, thanks.”

Mum’s voice follows me up to the top floor. “Poppy feels just terrible about it, too. She made you a drawing to apologize.”

“That’s nice.” I go into my room and shut the door. I don’t bother to turn on the light or check out the damage to the dress. In the end, it doesn’t matter. There won’t be a wedding anyway. I just won’t be able to sell it and get some of my parents’ money back for them. I tug at the shreds of dress and the garment bag, pushing them onto the floor before I crawl under the covers, fully-clothed. I wanted a sign and there couldn’t be one clearer than a shredded wedding dress.