I have no desire to flick through social media profiles on my phone like I usually do in the morning. The book I’ve been reading in the evenings while I wait for Alec has no appeal to me either. I’m hollow and numb.
It’s not that I want to dwell on the fight Alec and I had, the way he turned and stomped out of the room without looking back, the horrible, and aching pain that is crushing me beneath its veneer of numbness. It’s just that I can’t force myself to do anything else.
Alec was the one.
It sounds fucking stupid, doesn’t it? But he was.
I squeeze my eyes shut to keep from crying.
I wish none of this had happened—coming to Saintland, meeting Alec, deciding to open that damned dating app in the first place.
If none of this had happened, I’d still be in New York with my friends and my job and my independence, and not sitting here in Saintland waiting for Claire to book an escape route for me that won’t cause an embarrassing ruckus for the royal family.
I wonder if she can pull it off.
I’m still staring out the window, lost in thought, when she returns some time later—it may have been minutes or hours, I’m not sure.
“Jessica,” she says, startling me from my thoughts. “I have a plane ticket and a plan.”
The plan involves getting me to the airport using something other than a vehicle from the royal fleet. It involves me leaving via the palace’s private back exit and meeting a taxi three blocks away.
She hands me an envelope containing my airplane ticket and a pair of dark sunglasses. She puts her hand on top of mine and looks me straight in the eye. “Do you need anything else? Truly, Jessica, is there anything else I can do for you?”
I’m going to miss Claire. She’s the only friend I have in Saintland, and how she has helped me so selflessly today has proven this is more than just a job for her.
I shake my head. “No. You’ve done so much.” Her kindness is making me a little choked up.
She gives my hand a brisk pat and stands up from where she’s been sitting beside me. “Let’s be on our way, then. The flight leaves in an hour and a half. It’s a small airport, so you should still have plenty of time for customs.”
Claire accompanies me to the back entrance, then surprises me by giving me a quick hug. “Three blocks that way,” she says, pointing in the correct direction, and I nod in understanding.
“It’s been really nice knowing you, Claire,” I say as I slip on the sunglasses. “And thank you…for everything.”
A small smile flashes across her face. “You know where to find me if you ever want to chat,” she answers, a hitch catching in her usual perky voice, and then she quickly disappears back into the palace.
I probably won’t see her—or Saintland, for that matter—ever again.
My heart heavy, I set off at a brisk pace in the direction Claire pointed.
As I near the end of the second block, my heart starts to race.
Not one but two photographers are heading in my direction down the block on the other side of the street. They look like they’re heading toward the palace to cover some event or another, but I know photographers—they’ll stop if they recognize me.
I adjust my dark glasses and keep my gaze looking forward. I don’t want to appear to be in hurry either and possibly attract their attention.
Still moving forward, I steal another glance in their direction. The taxi is only half a block away. My heart is pounding and it’s not fucking easy to keep my pace purposeful and not rushed. “You’re just an everyday citizen walking down the street in Saintland,” I think to myself. “There’s no need for them to notice you.”
I’m only ten feet away from the taxi when one of them stops in their tracks across the street, staring in my direction.
The photographer he’s walking with comes to a halt beside him. I notice the one saying something to his colleague and he points discreetly in my direction. My instinct is to stop, to freeze, but I keep moving toward the taxi, my heart pounding so hard against my rib cage that I’m worried it might burst out of my chest.
There. I’m fucking there. My hand closes around the door handle to the taxi as prickles of sweat bead on the back of my neck. I open the door and slide into the back seat, struggling to catch my breath.
I just want this to be an uneventful escape.
I don’t want another goddamn media frenzy about me and Alec.
The gossip sites, after all, exploit their stories internationally, and I really don’t want anything more to do with this whole thing once I’m back in New York.
Safe in the taxi, I whip my head around to look out at the photographers, my eyes locked in panic on their faces.