Her mother’s death had destroyed him. He’d gone from being a chaotic ball of fun to being stressed constantly, perennial circles beneath his eyes as he tried to manage being a single father, and realizing his dreams for the future.
Then he’d had a windfall, he’d met her stepmother and he’d seemed very nearly like happy, and that was good enough for Birdie.
She tried to be happy and optimistic as much as possible. If for no other reason than that she knew her mom wanted her to live happily. Even dying, her own mother had held onto optimism, not false hope, but a kind of joy that made Birdie want to live with as much of it as possible.
That didn’t mean it was easy.
After losing her mom everything had been different.
Day-to-day life had been easy if not idyllic when her father had been wealthy in cryptocurrency, but then it had collapsed suddenly overnight, giving him a heart attack and killing him with the stress of it, leaving her with her stepmother—a woman who considered herself nobility because of some specious relation to a minor British royal, and her stepsisters. All of whom felt that they wereabovedoing actual jobs.
That was why Birdie had gotten work at the palace when she was seventeen.
Birdie’s father had been a self-made man, one who had come up from nothing, and that made Birdie a commoner in the eyes of her stepmother.
That meantshewas responsible for practical, steady work while her sisters focused on becoming niche internet microcelebrities.
If they knew what she’d done last night…
That made Birdie smile even more resolutely. She walked into the kitchen and saw Alana standing at the counter with a giant puffy headband holding her hair back, and a large light illuminating her face, her phone right in front of her.
“Don’t walk into my shot,” Alana said.
“I won’t,” said Birdie, deftly moving around her and making her way to the fridge to grab her sack lunch and a cup of yogurt.
“You got back late last night,” her stepmother said, eyeing her closely.
“It was the queen’s funeral,” Birdie said, her chest getting so tight it was almost impossible for her to breathe. “We had a lot of extra work to do.”
“Of course,” she said. “I know that. But I assume that you have information about who is visiting. And about thatpoorman.”
If there was one thing her stepmother was, it was fake. Asking after another person’s well-being wasn’t in her repertoire. “Do you mean…the king?” Birdie asked.
“Of course. This must be such a devastating loss for him!” Her pause was artful. Very nearly believable. “But obviously he will have to marry again. He didn’t have an heir.”
Birdie’s cheeks went hot. She didn’t need to say anything. She didn’t need to say anything. She didn’t need—
“He’s only just buried his wife. I don’t think that it’s the right time to talk about his next marriage.”
Her stepmother narrowed her eyes, and Birdie took some satisfaction in watching all the places her Botox failed to keep her skin from wrinkling. “Don’t talk like you know him, Roberta. You probably never even see him in that massive palace.”
He’s been inside me, actually.
She didnotsay that.
She also didn’t tell her stepmother that she spoke to the king fairly regularly. She wished that she didn’t. She wished that he were distant. Instead, at seventeen she’d been assigned work in his study. Often bringing him food when he was in there.
She wasn’t his personal maid or anything like that, but during the day she was the one that attended him. Not that she’d ever shared that bit of information with her stepmother. Nor would she.
Developing a crush on him was easy. He was a beautiful man. His cheekbones high and well-formed, his eyes black like onyx, like his name, his mouth compelling. But he was also kind. Interesting. Funny, even. It wasn’t like they had long conversations. It was just little exchanges here and there. But she’d fallen for him.
She might’ve felt guilty about being in love with a married man except it was honestly a lot like having a crush on a celebrity. Yes, she did see him, but he was as unreachable as he might’ve been if he were on the silver screen. At least, he had been. Until last night. It had all been too much for her to bear.
She’d walked into the room, just to get a little bit of solace after the overwhelming sadness of the funeral, of all the proceedings, and he’d been in there. All she’d wanted to do was comfort him.
But it was difficult to remove that from how much she wanted him. And then, when he kissed her…
She would’ve given him anything. She had given him everything.
