I’ve been in my room all day today. I don’t want to risk bumping into any members of the royal family—especially Andrew.

It’s been hard to focus today, but I had a job to do. And now that it’s done, I don’t need to stay in Montovia any longer.

Wishing this situation could be different is a waste of my time. I’ve replayed it too many times in my head, and I’m at least as much to blame as Andrew. I didn’t stop him from putting on this stupid pageant. I didn’t object loudly enough. And though I hate to admit it to myself, I had hoped that whatever happened here would further my career somehow. That was all that was supposed to happen—I was supposed to write the best stories I’d ever written and enchant the world with my words.

I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with Prince Andrew.

Not that I will ever admit that out loud to him, no matter what he says to me. It doesn’t matter if he thinks he loves me, too. I can’t give him what he needs. The only thing I can give him is the story I’ve written for him today and the outline of his apology speech.

There’s a stabbing pain in my gut when I think about him moving on with Princess Justine. A tightness in my chest that is barely holding up my heavy heart.

I’ll have to leave the world of celebrity news now. There’s no way I can ever be around it again knowing the threat of seeing Andrew with Justine will always be a possibility. That any time I turn on my computer or look at a television, their smiling faces might be staring back at me.

A small part of me wants to suggest that Andrew and I leave Montovia together—find some deserted island somewhere and live happily ever after. But this isn’t a fairy tale. Prince Andrew was born to be a king. And a king needs an heir—a biological child. And that is the one thing I cannot give him, and it means I’ll never be enough for him or for his country. Even if he did decide to do something stupid like throw away his chance to be with Justine, there would always be a part of him that resented me for taking from him his chance to be a father. I know him well enough to know that. I’ve seen his resentment of Leo—how he thought his brother was trying to usurp him or something when the world thought we had died in the plane crash. I can’t even imagine what sort of thoughts Andrew would have about me if we did try to make some sort of life together. How every time we had an argument might mean he would hold that missing piece of me over my head as some kind of threat.

And there’s the whole greater good that is so important to Andrew. It’s easy for me to sit back and wonder what our life together might look like if he didn’t have the responsibilities he has. But he can’t imagine that life because it’s the only one he’s ever known. He has an entire country full of people who are depending on him to be their leader at some point in the future. They might be pissed off at him right now, but they’ll forgive him. And when they do, he needs to be the future king he was born to be. He can’t do that with me at his side, no matter what he might think.

I’m making the right decision. The only decision. And no matter what Andrew says or thinks, I know this is the only way.

When I hear the soft rapping on my door, I know who it is before I even get there. I only crack the door open, meaning to tell Andrew to go back to his room. I don’t care if we don’t sleep tonight. I need to finish his speech so I can leave in the morning.

Our gazes lock through the small opening, and neither of us says anything for a moment.

I let out a long breath. “I’m pretty busy. I’ll have everything done for you by morning.”

He looks down and I notice he’s carrying a covered serving tray in his hands. “May I come in?”

“I’m not hungry. I think I lost my appetite after our conversation in the gym.”

He frowns. “May I come in?”

I roll my eyes and open the door to allow him to enter.

He sets the tray down on the coffee table before he turns to look at me. “I summoned you for dinner three times.”

“And as I just said, Your Highness, I’m not hungry. And I also don’t take well to being summoned, as long as we’re talking about it.”

His jaw clenches. “You’re a guest of the palace, Victoria. It’s expected—”

“I didn’t want to see your family, okay? I didn’t want to have any part of this…this…whatever it is you’re doing now that we aren’t calling it a pageant. I said I’d help you with the story, and I have…” I motion to the papers I have strewn about the floor where I’ve been sitting all day. “I’m done writing it. I just need to type it up.”

He stares at me before giving me a grim nod. “May I see the story?”

“I…” My shoulders drop and I give him a dejected nod. “Yes.” I walk over to grab the papers and thrust them at him. “Here. If you’ll give me another half an hour, I’ll have it typed up and sent to you. I—”

He stops me with a wave of his hand and turns to read what I’ve written.

I fold my arms over my chest and wait for him to finish.

It seems to take him forever to read through the papers, but he finally turns to me and frowns.

“You didn’t like it?” I shake my head. “I’m not redoing it. I think—”

“I think it’s one of the best pieces of journalism I’ve ever read, Victoria. It’s gracious, conciliatory, apologetic. It’s exactly what I need.”

“Then why are you frowning? Why do you look so pissed off?”

He shakes his head and sets the papers down on the sofa. He turns back to me, running his hand through his hair. “Do you know what I’ve been doing all day today?”

I shrug. “Arguing with your father?”

A small smile flashes across his lips before he shakes his head again. “That’s a given these days. Besides that, I meant.”

“I have no idea, Andrew. And forgive me, but I don’t really want to speculate about what you might be doing in your free time.” An image of him sitting at the dinner table with Justine flashes through my mind. My chest aches at the thought of him touching her, smiling at her, laughing with her.

He sits down on the sofa next to where he’s set the papers and motions for me to sit across from him. “After another requisite tongue-lashing from my father, I spent my day at the Montovian City Academy. I—”

I hold up my hand, interrupting him. “I don’t care, Andrew. Just…just take your papers and go. Or leave them so I can type them up. I said I’d help you, and I’m trying to do that. But I can’t do this. I thought I could, but I can’t. I can’t hear about how your day was. I can’t watch you try to have a life. I mean, I want to do that, but I can’t.” I rub at the place in the middle of my chest where it feels like I’m being stabbed with a spear. “I wrote that…” I motion again at the papers on the sofa. “I wrote it and I cried. Then I wrote your speech and I cried. I don’t think anything I’ve ever written has made me cry. And I can’t do this anymore.”

“Victoria, sit down.” He motions again at the chair.

I let out a long breath, trying to get whatever is hitching in my chest out of there before I start sobbing again. “No.” I clutch the back of the chair. “I’m not going to sit down. I…I want you to go.”

He frowns and looks at the serving tray on the table. “I brought you some of the dessert I had the chef make tonight. It’s—”

“I told you, I’m not hungry. And I don’t want your damned leftovers, Andrew. I—”

He stands, interrupting. “I was at the Montovian City Academy inquiring about whether they might have a position for you. I thought perhaps you could teach English or maybe outdoor skills to the children there. I haven’t forgotten about the fire you started after our accident. Your Girl Scouts.” He frowns, raking a hand through his hair again. “I thought perhaps you could live in the city for a time. I could rent you a flat near the Academy, at least while things at the palace are in such an upheaval—”

“N-no.” My voice is starting to shake. “I…I might not be able to have children. But I deserve more than leftovers, Andrew. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to live in Montovia. I’ll be damned if I’m going to have this…this…all of this shoved in my face on a daily basis. I’ll…I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you—”

He strides over to me, pulling my hands into his. He motions with his head toward the coffee table. “Those are not leftovers, Victoria. I had the chef prepare a meal for you. For both of us. I had hoped you would come so that we might enjoy a meal alone together. A…a date, if you will.”

“I won’t. We don’t date, Andrew. I work for you. And we have sex. That’s it. There is no dating.”

He frowns. “There could be dating.”

“There has never been dating. And you’re marrying Princess Justine. Probably within the next week or two. And you’re announcing it tomorrow. What the hell do you think you’re doing here?” I yank my hands away from his. “You want one more pity fuck for the road? Is that what this is? You come to my room with your goddamned leftovers—”

“I told you, they are not leftovers—”

“And you want what from me exactly, Andrew?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing. I don’t want anything from you. I merely wanted to see you tonight. I had hoped that we might—”

“No.” I shake my head. “No. No. No. No. No.” I take a step back, staring at him for a second before I grab the papers with his speech on it. I shove them into his hands. “Here’s what I have of your speech. I’m sure your father’s writers will want to change some things, so you should probably give it to them. And you should leave my room.”

He doesn’t look down at the papers—his eyes never leave mine. “Victoria…”

“No.” I shake my head again. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to have me one last time before you take another woman as your wife.” I fold my arms over my chest and glare at him. “You know what? I’m sorry I said I would do this for you. I’m sorry I stayed here even a second longer than I needed to. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me, except that I’m some sort of glutton for punishment. I think that’s what this is—I think I’m punishing myself. I know I can’t have you. I’ve always known I couldn’t have you. Even when you told me about this farce of a pageant—even when I thought you were asking me to be your wife while I was lying on that hospital bed—I knew I couldn’t have you. I knew I wouldn’t be enough for you. I don’t know why—”

His mouth opens and he tilts his head. “You thought I was asking you—?”

My gut twists with embarrassment and I shake my head. “It was stupid. I was on drugs. And you were going on and on about how wonderful I was, how you knew I was strong enough to handle it. I made the mistake of thinking you were talking about me, you know, being part of the farce. But only for a second.”

“You are wonderful. And you can handle it.”

“Could have. You mean I could have handled it. But I’m not strong enough. And I’m not the right woman for the job.”

He presses his lips together. “I think you are underestimating yourself.”

I shake my head again. “I’m not. You need someone who can give you an heir. And we’ve had this discussion too many times already. I’m not your girl. I’ll never be your girl. Princess Justine—she’s your girl. She can give you a herd of children. And…” Tears fill my eyes for the millionth time today. “And you like her.”

He closes his eyes for a moment—the sight of my tears must make him uncomfortable. “I do not like her in the same way I like you, Victoria.” He opens his eyes, returning his gaze to mine. “I love you.”

I shake my head.

“I don’t love her, Victoria. I could never love her.”

I close my eyes to prevent my tears from falling. “Stop.”

“Victoria—”

My eyes open and I lift my gaze to meet his. “What do you want from me?”

“I need to hear you say it. I need to hear you admit it just once.”

“And then what? And then what happens, Andrew?”

“I…I don’t know.”

“Then we both get to live the rest of our lives knowing that we might have had something? That if I hadn’t fucked everything up when my adult life was just beginning that I might have been able to have you? That if I was still a whole woman I might actually be enough for you? Will admitting that really make things better for either of us?”

His eyebrows draw together, but he says nothing.

I shake my head and my eyes fill with the stupid tears once more. “Fine. I love you, Andrew. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone in my life. I can’t imagine how I’m going to live without you. And I don’t know how I’m going to find a way through this, but I know I will. I will. I will because I have to. And you will, too.”

He stares at me as though he wants to pull me in his arms, but he stands there frozen. “You can’t give up so easily, Victoria.”

“I’m not giving up, Andrew. I’m letting you go.”