I turned a corner and the heel of my left shoe wedged down into a grate. I couldn’t regain my footing and fell. My body slammed against a metal trash can in a loud explosion of noise. The metal was rusted and a jagged edge gashed my leg. I gasped when I hit the ground, my head slamming against the brick wall and more tears pooled in my eyes. I tried to stand up but my feet wouldn’t work; a sharp pain shot up the leg that wasn’t cut while the bleeding gash on the other throbbed. A few of the photographers put down their cameras and moved to help me, but I shoved their hands away. I didn’t want them touching me. These were the people who had been chasing me.
I heard scuffling in the crowd and I looked up just in time to see Alex slam his fist into a photographer’s face when he wouldn’t move. The man went down with a thud and his camera exploded into a hundred pieces on the concrete. A few of the photographers protested over the treatment of their colleague, but most of them just took more pictures.
“Samantha?” The panic in his voice made my tears come faster.
Alex leaned down, his eyes checking my leg quickly before he scooped me up in his arms. The photographers went wild but gave him room. I buried my face in his shirt and tried to get control of the sobs that were trying to break free. Everything was wrong. My father was dying and I was here, being chased by the paparazzi. Even with my eyes squeezed shut I could see the bright flashes of the cameras.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered in my ear as he walked through the crowd. When someone moved to block his path, he practically growled. “Get the hell out of my way.” No one argued with him. I don’t know if that was because he was the prince or because he had laid a guy out.
Becca and Duvall were there, shoving reporters and spectators away from us so we could get to the car idling at the curb. Becca had disabled a large man and he was on his knees in front of her. One of the members from the detail opened the car door.
“Call the palace.” Alex slid into the seat, cradling me in his lap. “Samantha’s going to need a doctor.”
“There’s a first-aid kit.” Duvall was in the front passenger seat and began rummaging in the glove box.
The car pulled away from the curb and sped through the streets. I kept my face pressed against Alex’s shirt, unable to stop the tears. When he pressed gauze against the cut on my leg, I hissed between my teeth and tried to jerk away. He mumbled reassurances but didn’t let go.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” I hiccupped and tried to calm down.
“What happened?”
“Patricia called.” A sob broke free and I had to take a second before I could finish. “Dad’s dying. I just panicked and ran out. I was going to go to the airport.”
“Samantha.” Alex’s voice was laced with pain.
“He’s dying, Alex. I left him and he’s dying.” I pressed my face against his shirt again. How could I live with myself? “I left him.”
Cancer Doesn’t Care Who You’re Related To
—New York Reports
Every light in the palace was on and there was a crew of people waiting for us when we pulled up. Alex refused to let anyone take me from him and carried me straight to his room. He laid me on his bed but refused to leave my side, telling everyone that wasn’t required to get the hell out.
A petite older woman followed us, issuing orders. “Samantha, I’m Dr. Rains. We’re going to get you fixed right up.” She patted me on the shoulder before moving to examine my leg.
Chadwick burst into the room and ran straight for the bed. There were tears in his eyes but he didn’t say a word, just reached out and squeezed the hand Alex wasn’t holding.
“You’re going to feel a pinch. I’m giving you a shot to numb the area. You need stitches.” There was a sharp stick, but I didn’t care. I don’t know if I was in shock, but my mind felt frozen.
Someone handed me a tissue and I realized it was the queen. Her eyes were gentle as she looked at me, her calm voice reaching through the haze that had filled my head. “We’ll take care of everything.”
I squeezed my eyes shut and tears slid out. The one thing I cared about, no one could fix. When I opened my eyes again, everyone was gone but Alex and the doctor. He was sitting next to me, his face stone as he watched her work. I didn’t look, didn’t care about my leg. When she finished, she checked the ankle of the foot that had been stuck in the grate and wrapped it with a bandage.
“Take this.” She handed me a pill and glass of water.
“What is it?” I opened my eyes and tried to sit up. The stitches pulled and I winced. Alex reached down and helped lift me.
“It’s for the pain. You might not feel it right this second, but that was a very nasty tumble you took and your leg is going to be sore for days.”
“No. I need to get to the airport.” I shook my head and felt dizzy. She leaned forward and looked at my eyes.
“Did you hit your head when you fell?”
“I don’t know.” Nausea built in my stomach and I swallowed. “I don’t feel right.”
“I think you have a concussion.” She dug through her bag and pulled out a flashlight. She waved it in front of my eyes and I groaned and held up a hand. With gentle fingers she felt along my head. “No cracks or blood, thankfully. You’ll need to have someone wake you every hour. I don’t want you flying until I’ve checked you in the morning.”
“You don’t understand. I have to leave now.” I tried to move but a wave of queasiness had me lying back against Alex.
“I do understand. Wait until the morning and I’ll do a quick check. Take the medicine and get some sleep.” She handed me the glass of water and watched as I took the pill. Once I had, she stood up and looked at Alex. “You understand how important it is that she not leave?”
He nodded his head and I knew I was defeated. When the doctor left, Alex scooted me farther in the bed. “I’ll be right back.”
I laid there on my side with my fists tucked under my cheek and tried to make sense of what had happened. Alex came back with a warm washcloth, a T-shirt, and a bowl. After locking his door, he helped me slide the dress off before wiping up the blood. I hadn’t realized how much there was until he had to go get another washcloth. I watched his face as he worked and reached out to wipe a smudge off his cheek. When he was done he slid the T-shirt over my head and situated me back under the blankets. I heard him slip out of his shoes before he crawled into the bed next to me.
He didn’t say anything while I cried. I was riddled with guilt and grief. I was scared I wouldn’t make it back in time to see my dad again. And the tears felt never ending. Alex stroked my hair through all of it. I had no idea how long I laid there and cried, but eventually I had nothing else in me. I felt hollow, like a piece of me had been scooped out and thrown away.
“Where’s Cathy?” I should have asked before now. One more thing to feel guilty over.
“She’s here.” He sighed. “She had gone downstairs to grab a friend and Becca had followed her. Neither of them thought you’d leave the VIP room.”
“I’m not mad. I was just worried.”
“You’re worried about them.” He snorted. “They’re fine. I doubt Cathy will ever go back to a club. I’ve never seen her so upset.”
“I’m sorry.” My voice was so hoarse I had to clear my throat and say it again. “I’m sorry I caused so much trouble.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong.” He nuzzled my hair.
“I kicked a photographer in the nuts.”
He grunted a short laugh. “That’s my girl.”
“I really need to get to my dad.” I squeezed the hand of the arm he had wrapped around me. Even though I thought I’d cried all my tears, I got choked up again. “I left him when he needed me most.”
“We’ll leave in the morning.”
“You’ll come with me?” I whispered the question.
“Samantha, you’re never going anywhere without me again.”
“What about the bathroom?”
“Okay. You can go some places without me.” He chuckled. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”
“You were busy.” I hiccupped again.
“I have something for you.” Carefully, Alex dislodged me from his arm and walked across his bedroom. When he came back he was carrying package tied in string. “I was going to bring it to you this weekend but couldn’t get away like I’d intended.” He placed the package on the bed next to me.
“Is this the drawing?” I shifted so I could reach the strings and tugged it open. Under the brown paper was the sketch I had waited so long to see. Tears filled my eyes and I took a deep breath. “It’s me.”
He reached out and tucked some hair behind my ear. “It’s okay if you don’t like it. I’m not really an artist.”
“I love it.” I ran my fingers along the handcrafted frame. It was simple and elegant; he had captured my face and all the emotion I was feeling. “This was when I got out of the car at the airport.”
“There was so much going on in your eyes. You were scared and sad, but there was determination under everything else.” He lifted my chin so I was looking in his eyes. “That was the moment I knew I was lost. You were so strong and beautiful.”
“I’m sorry I tried to keep us a secret.” I hiccupped again. His words made me want to cry, but for a new reason. “If I hadn’t, this might have worked out really differently.”
He took the framed picture from my hands and set it next to the bed. “I understood. I didn’t like it, but I understood.” He snuggled closer. “When I saw you covered in blood…”
“I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“I have never been more afraid and angry in my life.” He pressed his face in my hair and took a deep breath. “I don’t want to lose you and I just knew this was the end. I wanted to kill all those people standing there and taking your picture while you bled.”
“I don’t want to lose you, either.” Tears sprang to my eyes. “I lose everyone.”
“Is that why you were so stubborn?” He rolled me over gently so he could see my face.
“I didn’t think I would make it if you broke my heart. Not with everything else.” A sob caught in my throat. “I guess a part of me always knew it was a long shot for Dad. And I just didn’t think I could lose him and you.”
“Why would you lose me?”
“You have to be king! You have to make little baby heirs.” I sniffled again—the more I spoke, the more tears threatened. “I know I’m stupid for worrying about that, but I knew I’d end up falling in love with you. How could I not? And then you’d have to get rid of me for someone you could marry. And you can’t marry me… I’m just an American. And I know that’s really getting ahead of myself, but why start something if you know it’s going to end? And, and, and—”
“I’m not getting rid of you.” He framed my face in his hands. “You’re it for me. I knew it the moment I saw you tell off the ma?tre d’ at the restaurant. Do you understand? You’re it. I love you. That sketch was of the moment I fell in love with you.”
“You love me?” My brain was mush and I wasn’t sure if it was from his words or the pain pill.
“Yes, I love you.” His eyes bored into mine.
“I love you.” I traced his cheek with my fingers. “Can you tell me again when I’m not on pain medicine?”
“I’ll tell you every day.”
“Maybe twice a day?” I felt my eyelids growing heavy.
“A hundred times a day.”
HRH Prince Alex and the Duchess of Rousseau Leave for the States
—Lilarian Daily
The next morning came quickly. I felt like I had barely fallen asleep before the sun was streaming through the windows. The palace was bustling with activity and it felt surreal to understand the majority of it was because of my family. There was extra security around the gates and the photographers and journalists had been pushed farther away.
While the doctor checked me out, Alex delegated his tasks to other people. Cathy took the brunt of it, her eyes red and watery whenever she looked at me. Even though I told her it wasn’t her fault, I knew she blamed herself. Becca had offered to resign, which I thought was ludicrous. When I told her to shut up, she laughed weakly and promised I would never be out of her sight again. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Alex refused to leave my side and since walking was out of the question for now, we didn’t leave his room until it was time to go to the airport.
The queen had arranged for their jet to take us back to the states and it was waiting at the airport. Chadwick had gone to Rousseau overnight in the queen’s helicopter to retrieve more of my clothing for the trip. Stanley and Margie had sent food, which amused the queen, but I appreciated it. That’s what you did when someone was having a hard time. You fed them. It was a tradition that crossed all cultures.
I called Patricia on the way to the airport and was relieved that Dad had finally woken up. I spoke to him briefly; he was still too tired for much. Jess and Bert were with him as well and that helped ease some of the frustration in my heart. The doctors weren’t sharing much information with them because they were technically not family, but at least he wasn’t alone. That seemed like such an odd thought to me. Patricia, Jess, and Bert were the closest thing I had to a real family. I did speak with one of the physicians on the way to the airport, but there were no good answers.
The cancer cells had been spreading and nothing they tried had helped. Dad had refused more chemo and had decided not to tell anyone the extent of the trouble. It was very like him to not want anyone else to worry about him, but it made me angry. I felt like he had robbed me of time with him. I confronted Dr. Bielefeld about my father’s health, but his hands had been tied. He had never passed on false information, but under doctor-patient confidentiality, he had only been able to share what Dad told him he could. He apologized for not being able to do more and I believed that he was sincerely sorry.
I slept most of the flight, still miserable from everything that happened the night before. My ankle was sprained, so I had been carted around in a wheelchair and had crutches for short distances. The media had gone bat-shit crazy when we arrived at the airport and I could feel Alex’s anger like a physical force. Last night would forever be etched in our minds. I was angry too, but for the most part I just wanted to leave. The queen was dealing with the press and I trusted her to do what was best. Her first move had been to make sure there would be no assault charges pressed against Alex and me. There was photo evidence of the man I kicked touching me and grabbing my purse, which gave me the right to defend myself.
As for Alex, it seemed the reporter was at fault for blocking rescue personnel from a person in need. I had no idea how that worked, but I was saving that to tease Alex with another day. I’m pretty sure I could squeeze several Knight in Shining Armor jokes out of it.
Photographers were waiting in the States, but I chose to ignore them. In fact, our official statement was that there was no official statement at this time and we thanked everyone for respecting us during a difficult time and for giving us our space. I didn’t speak or even look in their direction; Chadwick did all the talking when needed. After the debacle with the nightclub, the city had provided police escorts for us and a security team was set up at the hospital for my father. They were taking no chances. You’d think we would need protection like this from people pointing guns at us, not cameras.
We arrived at the front entrance in a wave of sirens and flashing lights. Jess, Bert, and a man in a suit were waiting at the doors with a wheelchair. Alex helped me out of the car and into the chair.
“Your Highness. Duchess. I am in charge of the cancer ward. I’m sorry to meet you under such terrible circumstances. If I can be of any help, please don’t hesitate to let me know.” The man shook our hands before making way for my friends.
With tears in her eyes, Jess threw her arms around me and then patted my head like I was a sick puppy. Bert leaned down and hugged me carefully, wincing when he saw the bruise on my left temple.
“I’m fine, guys. It’s just my legs. Mostly. I could walk if Alex would stop complaining about how slow I am.”
“Ha ha.” He pushed the chair through the doors and into the main lobby. A few patients seemed surprised to see us, but no one gave us a hard time. The doctor in charge of the cancer ward acted like an ambassador, leading us to Dad and asking if we needed anything.
“How’s Dad?” I looked at Jess.
“He was awake when we came down.” She sighed. “Sam, he doesn’t look good. I just want you to be ready.”
I nodded my head but didn’t say anything. Part of me was terrified of what I’d see and the other part of me wanted to get it out of the way. Some of the staff watched us as we walked by, but it didn’t bother me. They weren’t going out of their way or trying to take pictures. It was more that we were interrupting their routines. It made me feel like a normal person. Who would have thought a bunch of busy, annoyed nurses would make me feel better?
When we got to the door, I made Jess stop. “I don’t want to go in there in a wheelchair.”
“I’ll help you.” Alex slid an arm around my shoulders to help me stand.
“We haven’t told him much. You guys have been all over the news, but I knew you wouldn’t want him to see that,” Jess explained.
“Thank you.”
“We’ll wait out here.”
Alex opened the door so I could hobble in first. He moved beside me to help support my weight on the bad ankle and we crossed the room to the hospital bed. Patricia was sitting in a chair, knitting. Her face was pale and her eyes red. I would hug her after I saw my dad. He had to come first.
“Dad?” I touched his hand, careful to not move any of the tubes or cords. Jess had been right. He barely looked like my father any more.
He opened his eyes slowly and gave me a weak smile. “Hey, baby girl.”
Alex pulled a stool over for me so I could sit down and then moved back to give us space.
“How are you?” I wrapped his fingers around mine and fought the tears that were blinding me.
“Not too bad.” He squeezed my hand.
“Liar.” I sniffed.
“I’m sorry I’m leaving you.” His voice was so soft I had to lean forward to hear him.
“Then don’t.”
“I knew it was a lost cause. Can’t win this one.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you let me go when it was this bad?” I shook my head. “I would have been here for you.”
“No.” His voice rose. “You needed to live life. I wasn’t going to let you give up something so wonderful because of me.”
“I could have gone anytime.” I groaned in frustration. “You stubborn old man.”
“Sam, I didn’t want you to watch me die. Can you understand that? I wanted you to remember me—the real me. Not this leftover husk.”
“You’re still you.” Tears ran down my cheeks. “I could have played crossword puzzles with you and stolen the remote for the TV after you fell asleep.”
“Remember the good times, okay?” He reached up with his other hand. I leaned down so he could touch my cheek and tried not to sob. “You’ve lost so much in such a short time. You deserved to be part of something lasting.”
“Our family is lasting.” I leaned into his palm. His fingers were so cold it broke my heart. “I wish I had been here.”
“No. I loved hearing about your adventures and seeing your pictures.” His hand fell and he looked around the room. “Did Alex come with you?”
“I’m here, sir.” Alex moved to stand behind me.
“You take care of my Sam. She’s a feisty thing, but someone needs to love her in spite of it.” He squeezed my fingers and I rolled my eyes.
“I do and I will.” Alex dipped his head in a small bow. “You have my word.”
“Good.” Dad smiled at Alex. “Good.”
His fingers loosened on my hand and I panicked. “Dad?”
“Just tired.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It rattled loudly and I bit my lip. “Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
I didn’t move from that stool until the monitors stopped beeping and the doctors made it official. I hadn’t cried so much in years. The last time was when my mother died in the car accident. When they wheeled him out of the room, Alex pulled me into his arms and rocked me against his chest. I felt small and emotionally raw. I clutched at Alex, needing to know I wasn’t alone.
We buried Dad next to Mom on a bright Thursday morning. Chadwick managed all the arrangements, only asking for input when he needed it. Birds chirped in the trees and it was warm enough to not wear a large coat. There were a lot of people, most of them close friends of my family, people who had served in the military with my dad, and people from school. Cops kept the reporters as far from the funeral home as possible and I barely noticed the cameras. I was relieved to see that many of the people were very respectful of the event. There were so many flowers I’d eventually told the funeral home to start sending them to the hospital. Might as well let the living enjoy them. Rose flew in from Lilaria to attend the ceremony and laid wreaths on both of my parents’ graves and said a few words on behalf of the queen.
I spent a week sorting through my parents’ home. We packed away a lot of stuff to be shipped to Rousseau and got rid of things that weren’t worth keeping. I gave the house to Bert and Jess as an early wedding present. They’d never have to worry about paying rent again. I liked the idea that it wouldn’t just go to some stranger. Jess would brighten the place up and give it new life.
Alex and I had stayed in my childhood room. It amused me to see him walking around such a normal house, washing his hands in the kitchen sink or sitting in my dad’s old chair. I was glad Dad had met him before he passed and I’m not sure I would have realized how important that was to me until it happened.
The last couple of weeks had cemented the relationship between Alex and me. There were no more questions about how we felt about each other. I’d deal with the rest of it when the time came and do my very best.
“We can stay longer,” Alex told me over dinner. “Maybe we could work it out so you can finish your degree here. I could take time away and only go back for the most important functions.”
“Dr. Geller got in touch with his friend in Lilaria. They’re working out a way for me to finish my degree.” I was actually really relieved about that. When Dr. Geller approached me after the funeral with his idea, it had made my heart lighter.
“Still, we could stay.”
“No. I’m ready to go back.” I shook my head.
“You can think about it.” His eyebrows pulled together. “I know you miss your home.”
“My home is where you are.” I reached out and grabbed his hand. “Nothing else matters.”
Long Live the Duchess of Rousseau
—Lilarian Post
Today was the day I would officially become the Duchess of Rousseau. In light of my father’s passing, the queen had pushed the ceremony back until the summer. It had worked out for the best. Not only had I been able to work on my schooling some, but my friends were here. Patricia, Jess, and Bert were representing my family and sitting in the front row.
I could hear the large crowd gathered on the other side of the doors and looked at Alex. I bit my lip and rubbed my hands together.
“You’ll do fine. You can say the words in your sleep.” He chuckled. “You do say them in your sleep.”
I snorted and ran a hand over my gown. It was a floor-length, fitted dress, and every inch of it was covered in silver sparkles. I was wearing the deep green sash of the Rousseau family over my shoulder and the tiara with emeralds. Alex picked up my hand and brought my fingers to his lips.
“Stop fidgeting. You’re breathtaking.”
“This tiara weighs eighty pounds.” I reached up and touched it gently.