Chapter Sixteen - Tristan
I spent two days thinking of nothing but Ella. I was convinced she was the perfect woman for me. I still couldn’t believe how well our time together had gone. I wanted to see her again, have her here in the palace with me, take her to bed and spend days never leaving it. I did not need the days to think it over. I knew what my answer was, and I thought Ella felt the same. She had seemed so upset when she was leaving, but I hoped that with the days to think, she would see this all differently. That she would realize that the fact we had been the people talking to each other, hidden on Facebook, was a good thing. It was perfect, actually, as I saw it. We had already not just had an amazing few days but had spent amazing months together.
I had never been sure, before this, that I really believed in romance. I wasn’t sure I was cut out for it. I didn’t really see the appeal of it all. Falling in love with one woman, and being with her for the rest of my life, had sounded confining, almost oppressive. I thought I preferred strangers in my bed, with no feelings or rules. Ella had changed that, and I found myself wondering if it had all been fated somehow. That I’d met a fascinating woman online, when both of us had been disguising our identities, only for her to walk into my life in a concrete and real way. It felt like it might have been meant to be.
I was sure that Ella would think it was as well, once she had a chance to process it all. How could she not? Our days together could not have gone better, and I was almost certain she was in love with me. I thought of the way she had kissed me and the way it had felt to have her in my arms. I thought of the way her face flushed when I touched her, the way her eyes widened as she came for me, the way she screamed out my name when I was inside her.
Through all my meetings, through every minute of the next two days, I thought of nothing but Ella. I wanted her back with me. I wanted to marry her and have her stay mine forever. I knew there was no one else for me. No one but Ella, the sexiest, most interesting woman I had ever known.
At the end of the two days, I called the event manager, ready to get Ella back, wanting to marry her as soon as possible.
“I want to continue my relationship with Ella,” I said as soon as he picked up. I heard the event manager make a startled sort of sound on the other end of the phone, and I assumed he was just surprised I was so interested. That I had changed my mind so much since our initial talks about the festival. I was surprised, too, of course. I hadn’t known it would bring me Ella.
“I’m afraid I have bad news, Prince Tristan,” the event manager said, sounding nervous.
“Has she not contacted you yet?” I asked, frowning. I wondered if she was in class or caught up in something.
“She has, sir. She does not want to continue,” the event manager said.
I sat down, slumping into a chair, feeling as if I had lost all my footing.
“No,” I said, “that’s not possible.”
“It is what she said. I just got off the phone with her,” the event manager said.
“Did she say why?” I asked, trying to figure it out. I had been so sure Ella and I were feeling the same way. I didn’t know what to do with the idea that we weren’t, that she didn’t want me.
“No, only that she did not want to continue,” the event manager said.
I hung up on him and threw my phone across the room in frustration.
Ella knew, she understood, that if she said she didn’t want to continue, that that would be it, forever. She knew we’d never be able to speak again. Even if she didn’t want to marry me yet, had she really never wanted to talk to me or see me, ever again? I thought of when she’d left, how upset she’d seemed. I’d thought she was just a little overwhelmed at the idea, that it had just been a lot to take in. I thought maybe she was a little embarrassed. But I didn’t think it was anything that would make her not want to continue our relationship.
I got up and paced, thinking. Ella had decided to end our relationship without talking to me, without telling me why. I knew by law she had had that right, that she wasn’t obligated to talk to me, but I had thought, I had hoped, that what was between us had been beyond the damn laws, had been about more than festivals and contracts.
If we had only had a few more minutes, if we could have talked about it more two days ago, if it wasn’t for all these fucking ridiculously old-fashioned laws, I was sure none of this would be happening. I was angry and hurt, and I didn’t like feeling either of those things, feeling so out of control. I was crushed, and I felt trapped under it, under the idea that I’d lost Ella forever.
I pulled my phone back out from where it had fallen when I threw it and signed onto Facebook, getting an idea. Messaging her was probably breaking the law, but it had been against all the rules for me to be talking to her through social media in the first place. I tried to message Ella, sure that if I could just talk to her, I could get her back.
I got an error message in response. Ella had deleted the profile.
I threw my phone again, and this time, the screen made a shattering noise when it hit the wall. I bitterly thought it was fitting, that it matched the way I was feeling.