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“It’s far-fetched. Yet they got away with it.”
“Yes, your grandmother speaks of it in the diary. How scared they were and how confused things were in Europe and Scandinavia after the war. There was a lot of rebuilding and restructuring and things just fell into place for them. Surprisingly, they weren’t questioned. After all, we didn’t have close ties to the monarchy of Samforstand the way we did England. Your grandmother speaks of Americans having much to deal with after the war. Hundreds of thousands of soldiers were coming home. Work and housing in our country was scarce. Things were chaotic.”
“But others found a way to survive without deception. They worked hard and built honest, decent lives for themselves.” Portia hinged her body up from her prone position and swiveled to plant her feet on the floor. Sitting upright, her head spun a little. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Jasmine. Honestly, you’re the only person I can trust with this.”
Jasmine rose from the floor and the sofa cushions dipped as she came to sit next to her. Her friend hung her arm around Portia’s shoulder and they sat there like that for long minutes, quiet.
“I’m scared, Jas.”
“I know.”
“I don’t know who I am. I can’t expect you to understand fully how I’m feeling, but suddenly, I’m confused about everything. My heart is aching so badly right now.”
“That’s why I’m here, Portia. You’re not alone.”
She rested her head on Jasmine’s shoulder. “Thank you.”
The house telephone rang. “Want me to get it?”
“No,” she said to Jasmine. “I can’t talk to anyone right now.”
Jas nodded.
Shortly after that, her cell phone began ringing and she knew both calls were from Juan Carlos.
They spoke every evening before she went to bed. Never fail.
Until tonight.
She couldn’t speak to him and pretend everything was all right. She couldn’t pretend that she was still a princess. She had a lot of thinking to do and she couldn’t burden Jasmine any further in the decisions she’d have to make about her future.
Thoughts of Juan Carlos always squeezed her heart tight in a loving embrace.
This time, though, it was as if her heart was being strangled.
And the pain of losing Juan Carlos wouldn’t go away anytime soon.
* * *
Portia sat in the throne room at the palace in Del Sol, her eyes closed, her heart pumping hard. Yesterday, she’d texted and emailed Juan Carlos one excuse after another as to why she wasn’t answering his calls until she’d realized the only way to break it off with him was to face him in person. She’d flown half the night to get here. To see him one last time.
His family had been through a great deal to once and for all return the true and rightful heir to the Alma throne. There’d been one debacle after another with his cousins, as they attempted to reinstate the monarchy, and the entire process had come under great scrutiny. All eyes were on Juan Carlos now and he’d made promises, staunch, determined promises to the citizenry that he would take his role seriously. By royal decree from decades ago, he was obligated to marry a woman of royal stature. The last thing he needed was to be made a fool of by marrying an imposter, a woman who hadn’t a drop of royal blood flowing through her veins.
She wasn’t his perfect princess any longer.
A tear dripped down her cheek. She wiped it away and steadied her shaky breathing. She glanced down at the engagement ring she wore. It was magnificent and maybe someday would belong to a woman worthy of wearing it and claiming a place beside Juan Carlos.
Her stomach ached at the notion of Juan Carlos living with and loving another woman. But it would happen one day. Rightfully so. She could only hope getting over him wouldn’t destroy her.
She heard footsteps approaching along the corridor. She rose from her seat and mustered her courage. She’d never been much of an actress, but today she needed to provide an award-winning performance.
The door opened and there he stood, dressed in a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled up—as if he’d been busy at work—and tucked into well-fitting black trousers. A lock of his neatly combed hair swept across his forehead and his tanned face showed a hint of stubble. Some days, when he wasn’t going out in public, he didn’t shave. She preferred him that way...a little rough around the edges. Tall, elegant, gorgeous.
Juan Carlos’s gaze lit upon her and her heart tumbled. Oh, how she’d missed him.
