I pass a car on the narrow road and notice how bright the lights are. The sun has gotten a good bit dimmer. The sky is cloudy now. A mile or two later, a steady rain starts pelting my windshield. Followed by hail. Geez, it’s like I’m back in Colorado.
All out ahead of me, it looks like rolling prairie. I can see a town’s lights glowing faintly on the cloud-swathed horizon. Far out to my left, I swear I can see the dark slat of the ocean. And to my right, the mountains, mostly swathed in fog.
What if he’s not home when I drop by?
What if he’s got a girl with him?
What if he’s having a party?
When I reach the little town I saw on the horizon line, I think of pulling off for
l-inner, but…I don’t want any. I just want to drive the next hour or so to Torr, go up to the castle, and get this godforsaken experience behind me.
I tell myself the best that I can hope for is that he’ll be polite and support my notion of me birthing and raising the baby somewhere in Georgia, near my family but away from the cameras.
I’ve already decided I’ll offer not to tell anyone who the father is, if that’s what he prefers. I don’t want financial support or anything, really, but it would be nice if my child could know him privately. I feel a pang of sorrow for my child-to-be and hope that Liam will want to do that. Maybe I could pay him.
I drive into a valley as the mountains rise up on my right side, then up a hill, and I see the village of Torr, with lots of trees and crags and little old streets. Everything look so old here. There are no traffic lights, just brick roundabouts. Due east of town, the mountain range drops right into the sea.
I stop at an adorable, red brick petrol station with round, white cottage windows and antique-looking pumps. After filing up the car, I give in to my stomach’s growling and get a cheese croissant, plus some canned cat food for Grey, then stand there staring at the thin, gray-haired cashier while I nibble a bite of my croissant.
“So… Does the prince live here? In the castle?”
The lady chuckles. “You hoping for a sighting, dearie?”
“Something like that.”
“He lives here at times, when he’s not abroad,” she tells me, leaning on the counter.
“Is the castle open for tours?”
“Not anymore, not since he’s been living there. Since last September. He keeps it private. They may do a showing at Christmas this year. That’s what I heard.”
I nod. “Thanks for the info.”
“Where are you from?” she asks me as I amble toward the door.
“The U.S.” I add, “Georgia.”
She nods, smiling.
Back in the car, I polish off my croissant and lick my lips. Damn, I was hungry. I’m still sort of hungry.
“Are you hungry, too?”
I set Grey’s food in the floor, move the carrier to the back, and wait while he eats and drinks some water I pour in a bowl I brought for this purpose. When he’s finished and seems settled in the passenger’s seat, I drive the city’s brick streets with an eye for hotels. I end up at a beach—a rocky beach with violent, crashing waves. I park my car beside the only other one in sight: a small, white Saab, swallow some ginger ale, crack the windows so the breeze keeps Grey cool, and get out. The wind is crazy here, despite this beach being between a smattering of houses. It whips my hair around my face, loosening pieces from the pony-tail, and makes my long skirt flap against my shins.
The sky is white now. White and cloudless. Seagulls caw above me, diving toward the black and tan sand, landing for a moment, then taking flight again. I watch them fly in vaguely circular patterns. I wonder what they’re talking about. Can seagulls communicate? I never was much one for the National Geographic channel.
I sit on a big, black rock a few stones behind the ones where waves are breaking. I can feel the spray against my cheeks. I inhale the salty smell.
Then I put my face in my hands. God. I thought I was getting my life together, but I guess I was wrong. Suddenly I feel so lost. And overwhelmed. I can barely make a grilled cheese sandwich and remember to buy toilet paper. How am I going to care for a baby? I don’t think I’ll ever find a guy now, not that I care so much. I’ve been single for two years. It’s been okay. It will be okay for more years. I might meet someone when the baby is older. You never know.
I think about Prince Liam’s hands in my hair at Declan’s house that night, and it depresses me. He wasn’t being nice. He was trying to get into my panties. Now that I’m knocked up, he won’t care about that anymore, and he won’t care about me, either.
I watch the ocean roll and try to tell myself it doesn’t matter. I can handle life on my own terms. I’m a big girl. And I’ll be a good mom. I just know I will. I watch the white sky and the gray sea until tiny, cold raindrops start to hit my scalp. Then I hurry to my car, where Grey is perched up on the dash.
I can’t help laughing at him as I get back in.
I rub his head. He purrs, making me feel a little less guilty for dragging him on this trip with me.
I pull my map back out, then take off, west-bound down the tiny streets. Several minutes later, I leave the quaint neighborhood I’d passed through and drive into the forest. The road is paved but narrow, twisting through the trees. I roll my window down to feel the air, to ground myself. I glance down at my map once, but it looks like I’m on the right path.
And then the trees clear some and I can see the castle. Damn. It’s gorgeous. Nothing like the one I saw earlier today. This one is made of ancient-looking, dark gray stones and looks as old as time—or at least the middle ages—with spots of green moss in some places. As I drive closer, I notice something glinting…
Oh my heavens, that’s a moat! It encircles the castle. There’s no gate or wall, only this moat and what, from here, looks like a bridge. The grass around the castle is a vibrant green, with groves of trees. I notice something to my left and slow down, finding it’s a piece of an old wall. So the castle was surrounded by a wall. It’s crumpled now.
I’m a little disoriented, unsure where the ocean should be, but I think I hear it through my cracked window. Rain is coming down as fine mist.
“Shit…”
I rub my hair back off my face and exhale slowly, still pressing the brakes. It’s sort of late now. Maybe I should come back tomorrow.
I’m looking at the road that leads up to the moat, wondering if I could do a three-point-turn without driving on the pretty grass, when there’s a bump on my car window.
“Aaaaah!”
My head whips to the left, where there’s a bearded man wearing…some kind of uniform. My pulse slows, slowly.
“Shit.” I roll my window down and realize there’s a small building behind him.
“May I help you?” he asks in a Scottish-sounding accent.
“God. Sorry. You scared me.” I laugh.
“Sorry about that. It wasn’t my intention. Are you lost?”
I shake my head. “Not really.”
His thick brows narrow.
“I was wondering…um…does Prince Liam live here?”
“And who are you?”
“I’m Lucy Rhodes. A friend of his.”
FIFTEEN Liam