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“In the press release, you’ll announce that, after much discussion, Her Royal Highness Princess Esme and Master Jameson Gates have decided to part ways. The breakup is amicable and the two remain friends, but realized they want different things out of life.”
I look at Jameson, a single brow arched. After he steals another glance Gianna’s way, which only increases my confusion, he eventually nods his agreement. I study him for a beat, a nagging feeling settling in my stomach.
“Fine,” Silas snips out. “Anything else?”
I dart my eyes back to him, brushing off my concern. “I’ll be taking a leave from my duties as a senior royal to attend culinary school in Paris.”
“You have to be accepted to attend culinary school,” my grandmother states with superiority.
“And I have been. To one of the most prestigious schools in the world. I developed a passion for it during my time at university and have been invited to pursue it. So that’s what I plan to do. Classes begin in a few weeks.”
“You’re a royal. Cooking isn’t a skill you’ll ever be required to use.”
“This isn’t merely cooking. It’s creating art with food. If I recall correctly, you’ve always encouraged me to become knowledgeable about the arts. That’s what I’m doing.”
“But your charity work,” she argues in one last attempt to make me reconsider. “Will that just fall to the wayside?”
“I didn’t abandon it during my time in university. And I won’t abandon it now, either.”
While my grandmother seems lukewarm about the idea of announcing an end to my relationship with Jameson, she’s vehemently opposed to the idea of me attending culinary school.
“I’m going no matter what. It just depends on whether my departure accompanies some unfavorable news about the royal household. Your call.”
“You’d do that to your father? And your brother?”
“Anderson will understand. And my father can deal with it. I gave him a chance to put a stop to this. He chose not to. He can suffer the consequences, like I’ve had to do all summer.”
I glare at him, expecting him to remain silent and ambivalent, as he has since the beginning. To my surprise, he doesn’t.
“Agreed,” he states firmly, remorse filling his expression.
“You can’t honestly think this is a good idea,” my grandmother chides, aghast.
“If Esme wants to take some time to pursue her passion, it’s the least we can offer after she nearly lost her life. Like Gianna’s press release stated. A near death experience makes you re-evaluate your priorities. Isn’t that right?”
Gianna parts her lips, at a loss for words over the fact that the statement she wrote in order to shackle me to this life is now being used to free me from it.
When nobody responds, my father looks my way. “Agreed,” he repeats, a finality in his tone.
I don’t wait for any further argument, spinning on my heels and hurrying out of the conference room.
As I walk through the hallways, I feel lighter than I have in months.
Freer than I have in months.
Until my father calls out to me.
Pausing in my tracks, I debate whether to ignore him and continue out of here as quickly as my feet can carry. But I’m determined to be the bigger person.
To be the first ripple that causes a wave of change.
Facing him, I cross my arms in front of my chest. “Yes?”
Regret covers the lines of his face, a stark contrast from the assured and determined man he’s always been. Who he’s had to be in order to carry the weight of the country on his shoulders for over a decade. But in this moment, I can tell it wears on him.
Or maybe it’s having to balance the politics of the monarchy against the politics of leading a country that wears on him. This summer taught me they’re not mutually exclusive.
“I just wanted to tell you how proud I am of you. What you did in there…” He shakes his head, a twinkle in his eye. “For a minute, I thought it was your mother giving them a piece of her mind.”
