“To think about what? The fact that the tabloids will leap on everything and everyone related to me and drag them through the mud? I have a responsibility to my family, and to the armory, and . . . and to this title. So I think it’s best you go like you planned, get back to your regular life and friends and family.”
Portia said the first thing that came to mind. “But who’s going to help you?”
Tavish ran his hands through his hair in frustration. “You need to worry about helping yourself right now, Portia. People around the world are reading about your sexual exploits. Have you checked your phone? There are already stories circulating that Johan and I are sharing you, which would be fine if any of us were into that, but that’s not the healthy setup being spread around. Aren’t you always thinking about optics? What are the optics of constant headlines about you being some kind of—”
He stopped short, but Portia knew what he was going to say. What he had thought. About her.
“I’ll book my flight. You already have access to all of the social media accounts and emails on the phone I got you. I’ll send you the link to all the important info and files online,” she said calmly. She tried to keep her breathing controlled because all it would take was one deep breath to lead to a gasp, to lead to a sob, to lead to showing everyone how Tavish had just ripped her heart out.
“Cheryl, I have all the ideas for the restaurant promotions and menu mock-ups, and Jamie, the expansion plans for your classes at other gyms. I’ll email them.”
With that she turned and walked out, as quickly as her hangover allowed.
PORTIA DIDN’T CHARGE her phone as she gathered her belongings. She knew what awaited her: hot takes on social media, a plethora of dudes who had or would lie about being past lovers. Conjecture about her and Tav, hate from Johan’s obsessive fans, disappointment from her parents. She didn’t want to know what Reggie would think. Reggie who had let Portia become part of her site and would now have to deal with the blowback.
She packed haphazardly, expecting Tavish to come through the door any minute, to tell her there had been some misunderstanding. That he hadn’t really sent her away. Even a mere apprentice would have gotten some fanfare about her departure, or a pat on the back. But when the knock at the door came, it was Cheryl and Jamie, both wearing pinched expressions.
“Are you okay, love?” Jamie asked. His curls were sticking every which way, as if he’d tugged at them in frustration.
“I’m fine,” she said. “I’m just packing. I’m going to catch the tram and go find a hotel.”
“Wait, you’re leaving today?” Cheryl asked. She and Jamie looked at each other. “I don’t think he wanted you to leave today.”
“Well, if he wants me to leave, that’s all there is to it. Why put off the inevitable?”
“Portia, I think maybe both of you should take some time and talk this through,” Cheryl said. “The past few weeks have been a whirlwind—maybe wait for the dust to settle a bit before making any rash decisions.”
Agitation tightened the back of her neck. Moving halfway around the world to learn how to make a sword had been rash. Falling for her bawbag of a boss, that had been rash. Offering to guide Tavish into the aristocracy when she didn’t even know what she was doing with her own life? Rash. Going back to New York would be the first rational thing she had done since applying to the apprenticeship.
“If he wanted to talk this through, he’d be here instead of you. This is for the best anyway. He has Leslie, Johan, and any number of other people willing to help him now. What he doesn’t need is a scandal.”
“Tav doesn’t care about that stuff,” Jamie said.
Portia remembered his expression of disgust. “Tavish doesn’t, but apparently Your Grace does. I guess I did my job too well.”
She packed in silence, with a tearful Cheryl and a somber Jamie hovering and trying to help but mostly getting in the way. She thought about maaaybe connecting her phone to the charger just to peek, but decided not to. Reality was a safe haven because whatever awaited her once she opened the virtual floodgates would be too real.
“Can one of you call Kevyn? I’ll need a ride.”
Jamie went to make the call while Cheryl helped her carry her bags downstairs. When they were done, Portia waited outside. Both desperate to see Tav one last time and dreading the same.
He was nowhere to be seen.
“Portia,” Jamie said. “You know, I’ve never seen Tav like this before. About a woman. I know he’s a wanker, but he’s a wanker who cares about you.”
“Well the damned honey badger needs to tell her that then,” Cheryl said with agitation. She brushed a strand of pink from her face. “He’s stone, not the sword in this situation.”
Jamie nodded gravely, though Portia was too busy holding herself together to work that one out.
A beautiful Mercedes coupe rolled up, but Portia paid it no mind, waiting for Kevyn’s beat-up Vauxhall. A female driver dressed all in black got out and opened the back door and a familiar face poked out.
“Why aren’t you answering my texts? Or calls? Or social media messages?” Ledi asked angrily as she rushed up the steps and pulled Portia into a hug.
Portia was shocked for a moment and then shook herself out of it and hugged Ledi back. All of the emotion she’d been burying to get through the packing and leaving rushed to the surface and tears spilled down her cheeks, chased by four heaving sobs that she wrangled into submission. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in Thesolo.”
“What is the point of being a princess if you can’t book an emergency flight around the world? And we weren’t in Thesolo, we’d made a stop in Spain for legitimate, totally non-churro-related reasons.” Ledi looked around. “Where is Tavish?”
More tears spilled from Portia’s eyes, and Ledi’s expression went hard. “Okay. Your bags are packed and Tavish is nowhere to be found and I might have to call in Thesoloian special forces to take care of him after all.”
“Let’s just go,” she said. “Please.”
Ledi released her hold on Portia and motioned to the driver, who came over to help with the bags. Of course, Ledi refused to let the woman take the bigger bag because being a princess hadn’t changed the fact that she preferred her own hard work and was stubborn as hell.
Portia hugged Jamie and Cheryl. “This isn’t goodbye,” Jamie said. “Hasta luego, more like.”
Portia didn’t feel like lying so she simply kissed his cheek, and then Cheryl’s.
“I hope Jamie is right,” Cheryl said. “I mean this is totally a Hermione and Ron situation and we all know how that worked out.”
Portia had no idea, but she smiled and nodded anyway. It was the polite thing to do.
Chapter 28
Nya wants to know if you’re feeling okay,” Ledi said, looking up from her phone, the same concern in her eyes that Portia had seen a million times over the years, made slightly more comical by the facial sheet mask Ledi wore. The concern bothered her, though; Ledi had swooped in to make things right for Portia so many times. With Project: New Portia, she thought all of that had changed, but here she was, pampering herself to distract from the fact that not only was she a fuck-up, but the whole world knew about her questionable choices in hookup partners and thought she had a thing for old Scottish men.
She’d snapped an “I’m cool guys” photo to post on social media, and taken a hiatus. From the internet, from her phone, from the reality that she’d allowed herself to think that someone would ask her to stay and mean it. Not checking calls meant avoiding who had called—and who hadn’t.
“Tell her I’m okay,” she said, trying to smile.
“She’s not okay,” Ledi spoke aloud as she typed. “But she will be.”
Naledi Moshoeshoe nee Smith, actually nee Ajoua, was suddenly an optimist, it seemed. Portia almost laughed, but she felt a painful pulse of envy radiate through her, because she knew what caused that optimism.