We cleaned up the dishes, put away the leftover stew, and then made a fire in the fireplace.

My dad had texted a few times in the past hour, wanting to know if Henry had gotten there and if I was mad at him for sending him after me.

While I was in my room, taking a shower and changing into my blue-and-pink soft fleece pajamas, I finally texted him back.

I am kind of mad at you.

I’m sorry. I deserve it.

Why did you do it?

Because I want you to be happy. And he makes you happy. He’s the only guy who ever has.

I stared down at the words for a long time, a familiar ache in my chest. I was too tired to cry anymore though. I texted back, I love you.

Love you too.

I was feeling strange and self-conscious and nervous when I went out to the living room to find Henry sitting on the sofa. He’d taken a shower too while I was in my bedroom. I could see the bottom edge of his hair was slightly damp. He hadn’t brought an overnight bag, but I’d told him he could change into any of my dad’s clothes that fit. He wore a pair of flannel pajama pants that were baggy and a little too short and an old Vikings sweatshirt.

He looked cute and cozy and rumpled.

Nothing at all like a prince.

He straightened up when he saw me, his eyes running up and down my body from my thick pink socks to my messy braid and clean, scrubbed face. His expression softened. “Hi.”

“Hi.” I got a bottle of water from the refrigerator and went to sit on the couch beside him, reaching for the blanket which had fallen onto the floor.

“Do you want me to sit somewhere else?” Henry asked.

“It doesn’t matter. Just stay on your side.”

“Okay.”

I started a movie, and we watched it in silence. I was brutally aware of Henry beside me the whole time. I was sure he was sometimes looking at me, but whenever I glanced over, his eyes were focused on the television.

I cuddled under the blanket even though the fire was already warm, and I tried to focus on the frothy romantic comedy I’d picked out. I only partly succeeded.

When it was over, as the credits were running, I looked over to find Henry’s eyes on my face.

He looked so quiet and so familiar—a face and body I was used to seeing, someone I really liked to see—that I felt another stab in my heart, this one slightly milder than this morning.

“I know,” Henry murmured. “My saying sorry doesn’t make it better.”

“It really doesn’t.”

I stared at him for a minute, breathing heavily, not sure what I was feeling or what I should even say. Then I heard myself asking, “How did you even imagine this plan was going to work?”

He sighed, leaned his head back against the couch slightly, and closed his eyes. “I don’t know. It made sense at the time. My mom told me about you, thinking we might get together, and I was… I was interested. But I didn’t want it to be the way it’s always been for me before—with my being a prince as the… the primary attraction. So I thought if we could get to know and like each other a little in the week I worked at the community center, then when we met as a formal introduction, it would be… funny. And you’d already like me so we could just… take it from there. I didn’t expect it to be like it was.”

“And how was it?”

“Deep.” He shifted his position, moving a little closer to me but not close enough to touch. “It felt deep between us, even that first week. I thought it would just be fun and casual, but it was so much more than that. So I was worried about your reaction and decided to keep it up for a couple more weeks. I wanted to know for sure that you were…”

“I was what?” My voice broke slightly.

He met my eyes without wavering. “You were the one. The one for me.” He was shaking his head, but I could see it was disappointment at himself and not at me. “And then I did know, and I knew it so completely that I was terrified to tell you the truth. Because by then, I knew that when you found out who I was, it would no longer be a funny little thing. And I couldn’t stand to lose you.”

His words made sense. Perfect sense. I believed them without question. And while it still hurt that he’d hid from me something so big, it hurt a little less to know he hadn’t just been trying to trick me to get my father’s money.

“But why did you think I’d want you because you were a prince in the first place?” I asked, trying to imagine how I would have felt had I met him for the first time after being fixed up by our parents.

“Because women always have.”

“All of them?”

He gave a little shrug. “I’m not saying all women have only wanted me for the crown, but some have. Enough that I know for sure I can’t always tell the difference. I was dating a woman early this year. Not seriously. We just got together in Paris every few weeks. I liked her. I didn’t love her. But I thought we were… real with each other.” He glanced away, staring at the fire. “Then I learned that what she’d wanted was to be a princess all along. That was the main reason she’d been seeing me. She didn’t break my heart. I always knew she wasn’t the one. But still… it hurt. That I was so wrong about her. It just confirmed that I’m a prince first and a man… after that.”

I swallowed, knowing how he felt, knowing exactly how he felt. I’d never been royalty, but I’d lived for many years with people seeing me as a party girl first and April after that.

Henry and I were different.

“You were always a man first to me,” I whispered.

He made a soft sound in his throat and moved close enough to touch my arm gently. “I know. That’s why I couldn’t… I can’t let you go.”

We gazed at each other for a long time, and I felt a hard tug in my chest, pulling me toward him, always pulling me toward him.

The bitterness I’d felt earlier was almost entirely gone, but it had been replaced with an uncertainty that was still holding me back.

So instead of reaching out for him the way I wanted, I started another movie.

After about an hour, I was finally starting to relax. I was finally starting to get tired. And Henry’s presence beside me wasn’t feeling quite so disturbing.

At some point during the second movie, I fell asleep.

The next thing I was aware of was feeling very warm and very comfortable. I shifted slightly, realizing there was something firm beneath my head.

I blinked and opened my eyes. I was on my side, stretched out on the couch. The TV was still playing, although it was a different movie now.

And there was something else. Something even nicer.

My head was in someone’s lap.

Henry’s lap.

I knew it was him even though I couldn’t see his face.

There was the flannel of his pants against my cheek. And he was gently stroking my hair.

I should move.

I shouldn’t be lying like this, my head in his lap, a genuinely intimate position. I shouldn’t be letting him caress me like that.

It felt so good. So sweet.

Like he was protecting me, treasuring me.

I wanted so much to always feel that way.

He obviously saw that my eyes were open, and he must have felt a sudden tension in my body. He didn’t pull his hand away, but he murmured, “Are you okay?”

“You were supposed to stay on your side.”

“I am on my side. You came to me.”

I realized that was entirely the truth. “I was asleep,” I mumbled. “I didn’t mean to.”

“You don’t hear me complaining.”

I finally rolled over so I could look up at his face. He was gazing down at me with naked affection in his eyes.

“I’m still kind of mad at you,” I said, feeling like I needed to say something to address what had come between us, even though my blood was pulsing with excitement and my body was feeling very good.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I deserve it.”

The words struck a chord in me, but I couldn’t immediately figure out why.

Then I remembered.

My dad had texted the exact same thing to me after I’d told him I was mad at him earlier.

I’d believed my dad without question. He was sorry for hurting me, but it did nothing to change his feelings for me. I’d forgiven my dad almost immediately because I knew without doubt that he loved me.

Henry had hurt me far worse than my dad.

But his feelings for me still seemed so real.

Maybe they were.

And maybe there was something here that was worth holding on to.

Henry obviously thought so. My dad clearly thought so too.

Maybe I was just scared—as scared as Henry had been.

“April?” Henry murmured, his hand moving from my hair to my cheek.

I was almost shaking with rising emotion. “I… I still don’t know.”

He nodded, a flicker of disappointment vanishing almost immediately. “Okay. I can wait.”

I turned back over onto my side. I knew I should sit up, but I didn’t want to. I felt so good just like this. So I kept my head in his lap, and I didn’t object when he started to stroke my hair gently again.

The truth was, I loved how it felt.

***

It didn’t take me long to fall asleep again. This time I slept longer and deeper.

The next time I woke up it was because my cozy pillow was moving.

I grumbled, instinctively objecting to this loss. I felt really good. I didn’t want to be moved. I rolled over and hung on to what I gradually discovered was Henry’s abdomen.

“I’m sorry, schatzi.” The voice was low and husky and strained in a way I couldn’t identify in my groggy state. “I’ve got to get up.”

“No. I like you here.” I adjusted some more, hugging at him resiliently, even as he was trying to get up. I was still half-asleep, and I wasn’t thinking clearly. I just knew that I wanted him to stay as he was and that there was something about his body right now that I really liked, wanted more of.

“I would. I’m sorry. But I—” His words broke off with a strangled exclamation as I nuzzled at him. I was clinging to him, my body still stretched out on the couch.

I was nuzzling at the only part of his body I could reach. It happened to be his groin over the flannel of his pants. That was when one detail finally clicked in my mind. “Oh,” I mumbled. “You’re hard.”

“Uh, yeah.” The strain in his voice was finally making sense. “Sorry. You’ve been lying all over me for hours. I fell asleep too, and my body got confused. That’s why I need to— Oh fuck!”

I liked that he was hard. I liked the way his erection felt beneath the flannel and the way the muscles of his belly and thighs were all tense and firm. I’d reached up to squeeze him because I liked how he felt so much.

“Don’t get up,” I mumbled.

“I have to. You said you weren’t sure about things between us so I can’t… I have to… Oh fuck!”

I’d slipped my hands beneath his waistband and wrapped my fingers around his erection, feeling a delicious tingling running all through my body and centered between my legs.

“Oh no, schatzi,” he groaned helplessly, his hips arching up off the couch as I squeezed him. “Oh fuck! Please no.”

When the words registered in my mind, they snapped into me like a whip, waking me up completely at last. Here I was, sprawled on the couch with my hand in his pants, and he was telling me no.

I yanked my hand away and sat up in an awkward scramble. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, April.” His was so tense he was trembling with it, and his skin was flushed in the light of the fire. “It’s okay.”

I was shaking too—for a different reason. “I’m sorry,” I said again, the words choking in my throat. “I thought… I thought you wanted me.”

“Oh God, I do want you.” Something urgent, so intense, had come to life in his face, and he reached over to cup my cheek in that way he did when he was speaking from the heart. “I want you more than anything. I want you as much as a man can want a woman and still contain it in his heart. I want you so much, April. But I don’t want us to do this again if you’re still not sure. I don’t want you to do something when you’re half-asleep and then regret it in the morning. I couldn’t stand for you to feel like you made another mistake with me.”

I was panting and still shaking but in a different way now. My whole body was throbbing with feeling, and I couldn’t possibly hold it back. “I’m not half-asleep anymore, Henry.”

“You’re… not?”

I crawled back over toward him, obeying the compulsion of my heart, my body, and no longer hearing any objections from my mind. “I’m not. And I still want you.”

He groaned and grabbed for me, pulling me over onto his lap so I was straddling his hips. Then he kissed me hard and deep and exactly as I wanted to feel him.

As we kissed, I rubbed myself against him, whimpering into his mouth at the friction. A little voice in the back of my mind was asking me how this was happening, whether I’d already forgiven him, whether I would be doing this in the light of day.

I ignored the voice since it wasn’t as important as everything else I was feeling.

Henry wasn’t nearly as patient and controlled as he’d been the previous night. His hands were moving over my body with a frantic kind of possessiveness, and they ended up on my bottom, holding me there, pushing my arousal into his with naked need.

He pulled his mouth away from mine but only so he could pull off my top. It was a long-sleeve pullover in the same soft fleece as my pants, and he yanked it off over my head, causing static to do a number on my hair, which was still mostly in the same messy braid I’d worn all day.

The fire had died down some over the evening, but the gold-and-orange light of the remaining flames flickered over Henry’s face as his eyes crawled over my upper body. I hadn’t been wearing anything beneath my top, so I was naked from the waist up.

He reached up to touch my breasts with a touch that was eager, almost young.

I arched into his hands and ground myself against him.

“Yes,” he hissed, pushing his hips into my motion. “That’s right. Take what you want.”

He was what I wanted.

He was all I wanted.

And everything in my body seemed to know it.

I whimpered and panted as he fondled my breasts, and I was still whimpering when he kissed me again.

As our tongues tangled together this time, he pulled the elastic out of the bottom of my braid and started unbraiding my hair with both his hands. Soon my hair was loose and messy and spread out over my bare back, and Henry was holding bunches of it in his hands.

This time when our lips parted, I couldn’t wait any longer. I reached down to his waistband and slipped one hand beneath it, pushing the flannel out of the way as I freed his erection.

He groaned uninhibitedly as I stroked him. He obviously had no more control than I did.

Then I raised myself up so he could pull off my pajama pants and panties. He dropped them on the floor as I straddled him again.

We weren’t thinking—about anything except how much we needed each other. We fumbled together until he was positioned at my entrance, and I eased myself down over him.

We both moaned as he entered me. I was wet and hot and clinging, and nothing had ever felt so good.

“Fuck, yes,” he whispered, gazing up at me with an expression I could only label as adoration. “Schatzi.”

I made a sound that was almost a sob as I started to move over him. He pulled me down into a kiss as he matched my motion with his hips. It wasn’t skilled or graceful or even particularly rhythmic. We moved against each other with a clumsy urgency that was completely uncontrolled.

He gripped my naked butt as I rode him, and he bucked up into me hard and fast as I clutched at the sweatshirt he still wore. And it wasn’t long—almost no time at all—that I felt a climax rising hard and fast.

I chased it with my shameless motion, making soft little sobbing sounds as the pleasure crested. He was obviously close to coming too because his huffs had turned into loud, raw grunts.

We couldn’t kiss anymore. We were moving too vigorously. But he was still gazing up at me with a need that was deep as well as wild, and I couldn’t seem to look away from him either.

I came first, my body shaking through the intensity of the spasms, and then he finally let go with a loud cry of release.

I kept jerking against him since my orgasm was slow in dying. He’d come inside me. I could feel it.

And that was the first recognition that we hadn’t even used a condom.

It had never even crossed my mind.

“Oh God,” I groaned, slumping against his chest.

He wrapped his arms around me tightly, making nothing but a wordless sound in his throat.

“Oh God,” I said again, more softly this time, my face pressed into his sweatshirt.

“Please say you’re not regretting it,” he rasped, holding me so tight I could barely breathe. “Please don’t tell me I was a mistake.”

“I don’t regret it.” It was the truth. It was nothing but a truth. “But a condom.”

“Oh.” It was obviously the first time he’d thought about it too. “Oh. Damn. Damn. Sorry.”

I was very wet between the legs from both him and me. I didn’t want to move, but it was starting to get very messy.

With a groan, I swung my leg up over his lap. I grabbed my pajamas from the floor and went to the bathroom to clean myself up and get dressed.

When I came back, Henry had pulled himself together too. He was still sitting on the couch, and his eyes were utterly sober as I approached.

I stood, looking down at him until he reached out and pulled me down, wrapping one of his arms around me.

I cuddled against him.

“You’re not on birth control?” he asked softly, stroking my hair, which was still a tousled mess down my back.

“No. I… I haven’t had sex in three years. Until you.”

He took a deep breath and released it. “Do you think…”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so, just based on timing. But sometimes… things happen.”

“Yeah.” He eased me away from him so he could meet my eyes. “If it does, we’ll figure it out.”

“Chances are, we’ll be fine.”

He looked at me for a long time. “Are you regretting it? Tell me the truth.”

I shook my head. “I’m still not… not completely sure about everything, but I’m not regretting it. It was… I could never regret it.”

His face relaxed, and then he readjusted us so we were both lying on the couch under the blanket, with both his arms wrapped around me. “Thank God.”

I nestled against him again, feeling tired and comfortable and physically sated and almost, almost safe.

After several minutes, I asked groggily, “Are you religious?”

“What? What do you mean?” He sounded kind of sleepy himself.

“It’s just a question. Are you religious? Do you believe in God?”

“Y-yeah. My family is Catholic. Not intensely devout or anything, but still. Why do you ask?”

I felt kind of silly about the question now, but I told him the truth. “You just do a lot of thanking God, so I wondered.”

He was silent for a moment as he registered this, and then he chuckled, his body shaking deliciously against mine. “I suppose I do.”

I giggled too, nuzzling his chest.

I felt him kiss my hair. “The truth is, schatzi, I’ll never stop thanking God for bringing you into my life.”

***

We fell asleep on the couch together, and we didn’t wake up again until morning.

It was bright in the room from the sun through the windows when I finally blinked myself awake.

We’d changed positions a bit sometime during the night. Henry was on his back now, and I was halfway on top of him. One of his arms was still holding me tightly even in his sleep.

His eyes were closed, and he was breathing slow and steady. I gazed at him for a long time and wondered what on earth I should do.

Things had felt so right last night, and I still didn’t regret what we’d done.

But it wasn’t that simple.

It could never be that simple.

Not with my life. Not with everything I’d been through.

Not when it would take so little for me to lose control of my world again and spiral back into who and what I’d been before.

Not when Henry was prince.

Not when the rest of the world would be intensely interested in whomever he finally chose.

With a little gasp of fear, I sat up quickly.

My motion woke Henry, and he shifted and gave a little huff as his eyes opened.

“Good morning,” he mumbled.

“Morning.” I pulled my knees up under me, feeling cold despite my pajamas.

He must have heard something in my tone because he blinked a couple of times and focused on my face. “Damn,” he breathed.

I didn’t say anything as he rubbed his face and sat up.

“You’re regretting it after all,” he said. His hair was so messy it was practically standing on end.

“N-no. Not really.”

“But?”

“But I’m… I’m still scared.”

He gave a slow nod. “That’s understandable. I can see why you’d have trouble trusting me when I kept the truth from you.”

“I’m not trying to be… to be bitchy or anything, but I have to make good decisions. I have to. I’ve only known you three weeks, and I’m… I’m scared.”

He didn’t respond. Just sat and gazed at me, waiting.

“And it just finally connected in my mind that you’re a prince.”

“You knew that yesterday, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, but I hadn’t thought through what it would mean. You’re a prince. Whoever you… you date is going to get a lot of attention. Right?”

His expression changed just slightly, proving he understood what I was getting at. “Yes. Probably. Not like the Prince of Wales or anything, but… yes.”

“With my history, it would be… messy. You know everything they’d dig up.”

“None of that matters to me,” he said, shaking his head. “You know it doesn’t.”

“What about your family? Are you telling me your mother is going to be happy with having me as… as your girlfriend when all the attention is going to be on who I used to be?”

“I told you. She’s the one who told me about you.”

“And she’s really okay with my history?”

His mouth twisted slightly. “I… I don’t know. She stopped pushing the idea after she saw some of the stories. But I’d already looked into you by then and wanted to meet you. I don’t care what she thinks. I really don’t care.”

“But they’re your family, Henry.”

“Yes. They’re my family, and they love me. They’re going to eventually accept any decision I make.”

I sat for a minute, breathing heavily, trying to sort through everything I was feeling. Then I asked, “What about your country? Are all those people going to be pleased about their prince hooking up with someone with such a trashy, embarrassing history?”

“I don’t care,” he said, more roughly. “I don’t care about any of that. Why don’t you and your dad come visit us for Christmas? You could meet my family and see the country, and you might realize it’s not as intimidating as you think. We’re barely even a city. There will be some attention, but it won’t last long.”

I shook my head. “I don’t think so.”

The calm he’d worked at transformed into tense emotion again on his face. “I want you, April. And any story that the tabloids want to drag up or the disapproving looks or the whispers just don’t matter to me.”

I stared at him, my vision blurring slightly. “They matter to me, Henry.”

He must have seen something on my face, heard it in my voice, because his face contorted with a surge of emotion and he jerked his head away with a ragged breath.

He was really upset. He thought I was telling him no and that this time it was real.

Maybe I was.

I just didn’t know.

It was all so much harder than it had felt last night when I was in his arms.

After a minute, his expression relaxed, like he’d reined in what he was feeling, and he said softly, “So what do you want to do? I’m not going to rush you or pressure you. We can take it as slow as you want. Just please don’t… don’t push me out of your life.”

I swallowed hard, trying to think, trying to be wise.

I didn’t have much practice in wisdom. I’d made so many bad decisions in the past.

I just didn’t trust myself.

I was the last person on earth who should ever be a princess, who should ever be a queen.

“Maybe we can…” I trailed off, still thinking. Then I started again. “Maybe we can take a little break.”

His face twisted. He clearly didn’t like that idea.

“I don’t mean a real break. Just a couple of weeks so I can think things through and figure out what I really want.”

“That sounds like a way to let me down easy,” he said hoarsely.

“It’s not. I don’t think it is. I’m just… I’m scared, and I need a little time. Can you please give it to me? You were going back to your family for Christmas anyway. So why don’t you do that. And then we’ll talk again after New Year’s.”

I could tell he was resisting, that he was worried, that he didn’t want to give me that much time to think and maybe decide against him.

“I need this, Henry,” I whispered. “Please?”

He swallowed and gave a short nod. “Okay. I’ll give you anything you need. Just know that on the day after New Year’s, I’m not going to just give you a call. I’ll be on your doorstep again.”

I couldn’t help it. I gave a little giggle.

My reaction seemed to reassure him, and he reached out to stroke my cheek very gently. “I know I made a mistake. I know I hurt you. And I know my being a prince makes things complicated. But you’re stronger than you think. Please don’t give up on us.”

I had no idea what to say to that.

***

The snow had stopped sometime during the night, so the roads were passable by midafternoon. I was going to stay one more night, but Henry was leaving as soon as he could.

After our conversation that morning, it was quiet and awkward between us. Both of us knew there was nothing left to do until I’d had time to think and make a good decision.

So I was relieved and kind of sad at the same time when he came inside and announced that he’d be able to get out and drive back to the city. He didn’t have any luggage, so it didn’t take him any time to prepare to leave. He was wearing the clothes he’d come in, and he accepted the thermos of coffee and bottle of water I handed him.

I walked outside with him. The sun was shining brightly now, which should help the condition of the roads. I went with Henry down the front walk, which he’d shoveled that morning, and met his eyes when he stopped at the driver’s door of the SUV he’d borrowed from his brother-in-law.

“Drive safe,” I said.

“I will.” He reached out to cup my face and opened his mouth like he would say something. No words came out.

“I’m not saying no,” I said, hating the look on his face, something almost like grief. “Henry, I’m not saying no. I just need some time.”

“I know.” He took a deep breath, and I could clearly see he didn’t believe me. He thought I was letting him down easy. He thought I would decide against him. He thought this was it for us.

He’d said he wasn’t going to give up, and I believed him. But he thought he was already fighting a losing battle.

The expression in his eyes made my throat ache so much I could barely swallow. “Henry,” I rasped.

“It’s okay, schatzi,” he murmured thickly. He leaned forward and kissed me very gently on the lips. “I’m okay.”

He wasn’t okay, and the fact of it hurt me like a physical wound. But there was nothing I could do. I was too confused and scared and uncertain to offer him any reassurances, so all I could say was, “Goodbye, Henry. Have a good Christmas.”

He gave me another soft kiss before he pulled away. “You too. I’ll see you after New Year’s.”

There might have been more to say, but I was nearly in tears, and neither one of us were capable to making more conversation. So I stood in the cold sunshine while he got into the car, turned it on, and started to back out of the driveway.

I stayed watching until he turned onto the road and disappeared from sight, leaving me alone.