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But he’d still let her go. He didn’t love her. Not like...
She stopped the thought cold. She couldn’t even think it. She couldn’t let it be true.
“How does it feel to be back?” Edith said.
Looking out at the Houston streets at twilight, Beth should have felt pleased to be back home. But all she could think about were the streets of Samarqara’s capital city, the scent of salt and spice in the fragrant breezes off the Caspian Sea. She took a deep breath and changed the subject. “You look tan.”
“I do, don’t I?” She gave a very un-Edith-like grin. “Turns out I don’t hate vacations as much as I thought. Especially—” Edith’s grin widened “—after I met Michel.”
“Michel?”
“He worked as a gardener on the king’s estate. He’s also a musician.” Her eyes twinkled. “And very, very good with his hands.”
Beth’s lips parted. “Are you saying...”
“We spent lots of time together. We drank daiquiris and danced on the white sand beach by moonlight. It was incredible. So incredible that when I left, he quit his job to come live here with me. In fact...” Leaning forward in the back seat of the limo, looking right and left as if she thought the driver might be listening and judging her, she whispered, “He’s waiting for me right now.”
“Oh, Edith!”
“I’ve never been in love before. I always thought love was a waste of time. But now,” she said dreamily, “I know when I come home from the lab at night, Michel will be there to play me songs on his guitar. And...” Her cheeks blushed as she gave a girlish giggle. “And all the rest.”
“I’m so happy for you,” Beth said, putting her hands over her twin sister’s. And she was. How could she be anything but happy for Edith, now her sister had finally found love at last?
But the pain in Beth’s own heart over what she’d lost—the man and country she’d left behind—was almost unbearable.
As the limo pulled down her street, Beth’s lips parted when she saw crowds of television trucks outside her nondescript apartment building. “Has something happened?”
“You,” Edith said. “You’re famous.”
“Me?” she said incredulously. Looking at the terrifying crowds of paparazzi and reporters, she leaned forward to the driver and begged, “Get us out of here.” As he nodded and turned a sharp corner, she turned to her sister. “Why would I be famous in Houston?”
“The whole world wants the story of the shop girl who tricked a king into believing she was her twin, and into choosing her as his bride, even over Sia Lane.” Edith smiled wryly. “If it makes you feel better, I can’t go home, either. Michel and I checked into a hotel. The lab’s getting pounded with calls. Television reporters. Newspapers. But it’s not my story they want. It’s yours.”
“No,” Beth said weakly.
“They’re offering morning show interviews. Book deals. Even a reality show. Check your phone.”
Beth turned it on. To her shock, she saw she had forty-one phone messages, and even more texts. She looked at her lackluster social media accounts, which she’d created years before to follow her favorite stars and connect with friends. Her eyes went wide.
“I have eight million followers.” She was suddenly shaking. “What’s going on?”
“You’re famous, Beth. Everyone wants to know you. You’re special.”
“But how can I work at the thrift shop, with people following me?”
Edith paused. “I don’t think you need to worry about that.”
Beth snorted. “The forty dollars in my checking account says otherwise. And I’m not selling Omar’s story to the press. Not for any price!”
Her sister peered at her as if she was a specimen under a microscope. Then she gave a satisfied nod. “Ah.”
“What do you mean by that?” Beth said, disgruntled.
“When your king called me...”
“Omar called you directly?”
“Yes.” Edith smiled. “He made it clear that you’ll never need to work again. Tell her to follow her heart. Make her do it, he told me. He also asked me for the numbers of your bank account.” She shrugged. “Easy enough to find. You’ve used the same password since high school, Bethie. TrueLove1.”
