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I said goodbye to Henri and walked toward the security gate, turning around to glance at the palace one last time. Who knew how long it would take for my heart to get over this? Only time would tell.
Outside the palace gates, I walked toward the waiting taxi, ready to leave the Verdana chapter of my life behind me for good. In the backseat on the way to the airport, I pulled out my phone and glanced at the viral video Cristina had shared with me of Oliver doing the “Macarena.”
Just my luck . . .
I won the bet, but lost the love of my life.
Chapter Twenty-Three
PRINCE OLIVER
Dante and I ran side-by-side in the palace gym, our treadmills humming in unison, while August grunted on the leg press machine behind us. It was still quite early in the morning, and my plan was to wrap up my workout in ten minutes, head for a quick shower and change, and then position myself directly outside Grace’s door.
Sooner or later, she’d have to come out to eat.
I couldn’t shake the memory of that devastated look on Grace’s face. Her feelings of betrayal weighed heavily on my conscience. I now knew I should have found a different way to call off the wedding, or at least should have told her sooner what I’d done, but who could have predicted our developing feelings for each other? The plan had been to get out of one marriage, not find another one, but there I was, completely unafraid to make a future with Grace, because it felt right. And what was gutting me most was the fact that I hadn’t been able to declare my love for her, to her. She utterly believed our relationship was a farce.
If only she would listen . . .
Grace was the love of my life.
I was determined to wait patiently outside her door all day, seizing any chance to make amends and make sure she understood the depth of my feelings. I needed to express my remorse and proclaim my love for her, even if I had to repeat it a thousand times for her to believe me.
“What do you think, Oliver?” Dante asked, stopping his treadmill and getting off.
I swiped my forehead with the towel and glanced over at him, confused. “What do I think about what?”
He chuckled. “He’s not even listening to us.”
“Not even a little,” August said.
I had been so deep in my thoughts about Grace, I hadn’t heard a single word of their conversation since they started talking about August’s trip through South America, and how he got the inspiration after watching the movie The Motorcycle Diaries. Whatever they’d said after that was a complete blur.
August finished his set on the leg machine, then got up and walked over to my side, leaning against the treadmill. “We were saying we should all shave our heads and join a monastery. Good times for everyone, don’t you think?”
I sighed. “I prefer my hair to fall out the natural way. From stress.”
“It’s your loss,” August said with a grin. “Seriously, brother, I was asking if I could be involved in the planning for the new Royal Academy of Arts, in some way.”
“Of course—I’d like that very much,” I said, pressing the stop button on my treadmill and getting off. “I was counting on Grace to play a significant role. I even had the perfect job in mind for her. I just hope it’s not too late and I can convince her to stay in Verdana.”
“She has refused to talk to you?” August inquired.
I wiped the back of my neck with a towel. “Yes. I knocked on her door multiple times, left voice messages, and sent texts. I slid a handwritten letter underneath her door, opening up my heart to her and telling her how much I loved her, but she pushed the envelope right back out, unopened. I had Henri deliver dinner to her room, but she didn’t even touch it. I even went outside and tried climbing up the side of the wall to her terrace, like they do in the movies, but I lost my grip and fell into Mother’s prized rose bushes.”
August glanced at the scratches and thorn marks on my arms and winced. “Whoever said love can be a little prickly wasn’t lying. You’ve got the battle scars to prove it.”
“It’s nothing compared to the pain I have caused her,” I said. “I shouldn’t be surprised she wants nothing to do with me. I ended up spending most of the night in my art studio, listening to music, and putting the finishing touches on her portrait.”
“Opera classics?” August guessed.
I nodded. “Mostly, yes. But when ‘Time to Say Goodbye’ by Pavarotti started playing, I nearly lost control of my emotions and decided it would be best to retire to my suite. It just kills me to think I might lose her over this.”
“You won’t lose her,” Dante assured me.
“How can you be so sure?” I asked.
“Because I have never known you to give up on something when you believe in it so strongly,” he replied.
