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“I honestly have no idea what that bottle cost, but you’ve definitely paid me back for the pastries and coffee.” Caitlyn put her hand on her hip. “Not so much for disappearing off the face of the planet without so much as an ‘it’s not you, it’s me.’”
Emrys’s cheeks began to burn red. “Now, listen—”
“You’re a coward, Emrys,” Caitlyn said plaintively as her face crumbled. “I thought you were my prince charming. Imagine my disappointment to find out that you were anything but.”
Caitlyn turned from him to rejoin her friends, but he caught her wrist swiftly.
“Let me go.”
“I never meant to disappoint you. I never meant any hurt to come to you.” His grip tightened.
“Emrys…”
“There were matters beyond my control. Understand this, and don’t leave me.”
“If you don’t mean to hurt me, let go of my wrist.”
Emrys dropped it immediately and then looked down as though surprised that his hand had held her fast. Caitlyn fought the urge to put distance between them, but how could she now? She had to know.
“What ‘matters’? What made it so impossible for you to answer a single call? An email?” Caitlyn shook her head and held her arms as she shrank back. “Emrys, you took my heart in your hand and crushed it.”
Emrys slowly dragged his tongue over his lower lip. “But you came over here to talk to me.”
“To thank you for the champagne,” she protested.
“Still. You were willing to come this far. Would it hurt you to spend a few more minutes of your time?” He stepped closer to her once more and this time took her hand gently. “To get reacquainted with an old friend?”
Caitlyn hesitated. She was torn between her dignity and his answers. And every moment she spent near him, her dignity lost a little more ground.
Emrys lifted his hand for the waitress and made a gesture. A moment later, she returned with another of the pink bottles.
“One drink, Cait. Don’t do it for me. Do it for that sweet, pigtailed girl by the Seine.” His voice had grown a bit husky. He was begging her. Even back then, he’d rarely begged. Emrys ordered. Now, he was simply gesturing to the free chair at his table.
“Well, she has been waiting a long time.” Caitlyn stepped past him, seated herself, and lifted her glass.
Chapter Three
Emrys watched Caitlyn’s face carefully as he began to speak. He’d suspected that if he could lure her to him, she might not be able to make herself leave. This worked in his advantage, though that was all the advantage he would be getting here. Now, she sipped at her wine, tilted her head to the side, and eyed him curiously. It was a bit uncomfortable to have her sharp green eyes turned on him. His discomfort was inevitable, he supposed. It was good after all this time to simply feel it, instead of waiting eternally with the guilt of knowing her hurt was out there somewhere, intangibly existing in the abstract.
“Well? Are you going to explain?” Caitlyn pressed.
“I’ll try. I’m not sure you can really understand what the pressures of being in line for a throne are like.”
“You left me because of stress?” She pursed her lips and held her flute to the side.
“No.” Emrys sat and folded his hands on the table. “I did study acting at Oxford. That much was true—”
“I know. It’s on your Wikipedia page. But you didn’t just say you studied there. You said you were from England.” Caitlyn set her glass down so hard that a little champagne spilled out. “Why did you lie? And why didn’t you just tell me at the end it had to be over? It would have still hurt, but it would have hurt a lot less!”
“I didn’t know, Cait.” Emrys pinned her down with his gaze.
“You didn’t know you weren’t English? I can’t help you with that.”
Emrys slapped his hand hard against the table. “Let me finish!”
Caitlyn jumped and straightened in her seat. “Do finish, Your Highness.”
Emrys looked upon the hardness of her face. It didn’t suit her. What suited her was the rosy flush of her cheek in excitement, breathless sighs on her lips, and stars in her eyes.
