Royally Duched (Duched #2) Page 2

  “Then end it that way.”

  Her eyes widen in surprise. “Um…My apologies.”

  I hum and prepare to turn back around when she speaks again.

  “We met a few months ago. Around eight or so...Maybe seven.”

  Almost how long ago I met Brie…Damn it. Please remind me to keep from saying her name. My chest can’t continue to contain the pain at this constant rate.

  “We met while skiing. My name is Cynthia Saxton.”

  How is it that one weekend is still haunting me?

  “I was there with Meegan-”

  “This isn’t some sort of strange petition for her and I to become something we never were, is it?”

  “No but-”

  “Then what do you want?”

  Her words come out in a jumbled stutter and I roll my eyes.

  Why is it so hard for people to just leave me alone? See why I wanted to stay in the corner?

  I have a sip and state. “You’re only bothering me for one of two reasons. Either you are some sort of reporter or blogger or bloody idiot who needs a viral story before it becomes viral, or you’re about to make the very embarrassing mistake of hitting on me to which I will say something guaranteed to either leave you in shock or preferably in tears. Whichever one you are, I utterly, do. Not. Care.” After another beat, I coldly command, “Go. Away.”

  Save it. I’m more than aware how harsh that came out.

  The woman tries to lift her chin in defense. “I was just trying to make conversation with you. You looked…lonely.”

  “I’d rather be alone than pass the time with you.”

  “Kellan!” My brother snaps unexpectedly.

  No warning? Really? What good are you? I thought we had an understanding…

  “Excuse my brother for his poor choice of words,” Kris quickly apologizes on my behalf. “He’s had a rough couple of days-”

  “Weeks-”

  “Like the reports have been saying…”

  She gives Kris her attention and nods. “Exhaustion, I believe it was.”

  “More like inconsolable,” I mutter to myself.

  “Yes, yes, exhaustion. Too much traveling, but how kind of you to reach out to him.” My brother gives me a threatening glare. “I’m sure he would love some company.”

  “I would not.”

  “I really think you would.”

  “I really really would not, Kristopher.”

  “Rethink that, Kellan.”

  I roll my eyes and grunt. “Fine.” My head snaps towards her. “You just want to talk to me?”

  Cynthia starts, “I did-”

  “Great. I am willing to have a conversation with anyone who can tell me off the top of their head what was Mozart’s first name. Do you know?”

  Oh the things I learned over margaritas on a Tuesday…

  The woman’s mouth bobs yet nothing comes out.

  “Sorry, awkward silence is not the correct answer. You may go.”

  Cynthia doesn’t bother pushing back this time. She simply sulks away.

  “Kellan,” Kristopher growls.

  “No. No.” I wag a finger at him. “That is my conversation policy for the evening. For everyone, including you. Now, do you know the answer?”

  My brother’s face frowns as he clearly wracks his brain for the information. “Martin?”

  I make an annoying incorrect buzzer sound and state, “You lose. You leave me alone too.” Before he can argue, I face my sister in law who is doing her best not to erupt into laughter. “Care to guess?”

  “Wolfgang.” She bluntly remarks.

  “Ding. Ding. You have permission to speak to me tonight.”

  “How the bloody hell was I supposed to know that? It’s not common information!”

  “It is to a bloody art student like the one who should be standing here beside me right fucking now!”

  Kris’ shoulders drop and I use my free hand to rub the tension permanently stuck in the back of my neck. Our eyes glance around at the faces we’ve managed to steal the attention of and both cringe at the sight of fingers flying across the keypads of their cell phones.

  “Well this should make for great headlines,” Soph mutters before she pushes my brother away. “You go and mingle. See if you can erase this moment from the evening by creating a bigger one. Bid on something outrageous…”

  He forces a smile on his face and pecks her cheek with a kiss. Through gritted teeth he snaps at me, “Try to remember we have a reputation to uphold.”

  Without bothering to fake enjoyment, I shrug. “How the bloody hell could I ever fucking forget? It’s the very thing that cost me the only woman I’ve ever loved.”

  At that moment Kris shakes his head, shoves a hand in his pocket, and strolls away, flashing a forced smile to those who were watching.

  I lift my drink to my lips and let my eyes zoom back in on the couple I was watching earlier.

  Technically not a couple if there are three people. Couple implies two. What would the correct term be?

  “I don’t need a babysitter,” I declare in a quiet voice.

  “Clearly.” Soph snickers. “You do know that woman you just not so sweetly shooed away was the daughter of the host?”

  Add that to the long list of things I do not give a shit about.

  “I don’t even know what we’re bloody here for let alone who is hosting it.”

  “It’s a charity fundraiser for-”

  “Do you know who they are?” My head nods at the three people who have now shifted positions. She has a head on the shoulder of the man who earlier was caressing her ass, while she seems to be holding hands with the other man.

  “Those are the Lawson brothers.”

  My eyes swing to her.

  “The Olympic divers.”

  Impressed, I lift my eyebrows.

  Can honestly say I’ve never met an Olympic diver. However, I’ve met and slept with a gymnast. She was a bronze winner at the games, but could be given a silver medal in bed. Only one woman will ever bring home the gold to me…

  With skepticism in her tone, she questions, “Why do you ask?”

  Curiosity drifts my attention back to them. “Just wondering what the situation is. Wondering if they know they’re in love with the same woman. Wondering if they’re all together and if so how it works? I can’t wrap my mind around the idea of another man sharing a drink with my-” the term gets caught in my throat. “There’s no way in hell, I’d ever be willing to share the woman I’m in love with. I loathe the idea of having to share her time in that aspect. Her attention. Her body…”

  I watch as the male on the left leans down to kiss her lips. The image causes me to glare, which is when Soph pushes, “Are you actually wondering how three people can possibly love each other or are you wondering why is it their brown skinned beauty can be draped on their arms, but yours can’t?”

  Without answering the question, I down the rest of the copper colored liquid in my glass.

  Of course that’s what I’m fucking wondering. That’s all I spend my time wondering. That and how much time until I’m given another chance for us to be together. For me to see her. For me to…hear her. How much time until I have to accept that the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with has given up on me?

  A little smile creeps onto my face as I unscrew the lid to my coke bottle.

  Look at that! Elizabeth the tenth is not white on Doctor Who. She’s of some sort of mixed descent, so what’s the big deal? If the British eventually do it, why can’t Doctenn? What? What do you mean it’s a television show? Of course I know it’s just a show! But it doesn’t mean the lesson can’t be apparent.

  There’s a small exasperated sigh and I look up to see where it’s coming from. I glance around the small living space, making note of my dad on the tan colored couch to the left of me with his eyes focused on his phone and the flat screen television playing Tomb Raider. I scan the two different entrances that leak into the room, one the di
rection where the bedrooms are located, the other the direction of the front door and laundry room. Not seeing the direct cause of the sound, I return to having a drink.

  “Are you really drinking a soda right in front of me?” My father huffs causing me to freeze mid sip. “Did your mother put you up to this? Taunting me with things I can’t have?” He gives the bottle of water on the wooden coffee table in front of him a sneer. “Rubbing it in with your slurping?”

  After swallowing the little bit I managed to get, I put the lid back on, pause the show on my phone, and sigh, “Sorry, Dad. I’m not trying to break your spirit or anything. I just need the caffeine.”

  “Still not sleeping?” My mom asks at the same time she rounds the corner with another basket of laundry for me to fold.

  How many clothes do they own?! Is this what Kellan’s maid feels like?

  I push down the grief that comes just from his name. “No.”

  “Really?” Candice strolls into the room also carrying an additional basket.

  He was only in the hospital for a couple of weeks! Where did all these come from? Did my mom take all of his clothes out of the closest, search them for candy bars or spare hamburgers, then wash them on the off chance she missed something?

  She drops the basket down beside the other one. “You’re not over him yet? It’s been like two weeks.”

  Two and half. Tomorrow it will be two and a half weeks since my life was something more than endless chores, mindless sketching, and Doctor Who marathons.

  “Two whole weeks?” My father mocks as he stops checking his cell phone. “And she’s still sad? Should we call a therapist? Book a room for her at one of those mental hospitals for the insane?”

  I stifle my chuckle and so does my mom.

  See where I get it from.

  Candice gives our father a scowl. “I just meant it’s not like they were together for years or something. They weren’t exactly making wedding plans.”

  The comment clamps my mouth shut.

  We weren’t and now I can’t even imagine how that would’ve ever played out…’Hey Father, the castle is about to get a little more colorful permanently.’ What? My accent is not that terrible!

  “It was just a few months. She should be ready to move on by now.” Her face turns to me. “And now that we’re talking about it-”

  “You mean now that you’re talking about it,” I point out.

  “Mmhm,” she hums. “There’s this really cute guy at work that I think you’d hit it off with. His name’s Basil-”

  “That’s not a name. That’s a spice.”

  “It’s a name.” Candice stomps her foot. “Plus, he’s really cute.”

  My arms fold across my chest. “You mentioned that part already.”

  “If he’s so cute why don’t you go out with him?” Mom suggests from where she is sitting on the other side of my father.

  As if it pains her to admit it, she states, “I’m not his type.”

  Must not be into overly pushy, vegetarian wannabes. Yeah. That didn’t sound bitchy. Eh. Fair for the wedding comment earlier. Hell, fair for her trying to push me into dating when I’m still in love with someone.

  With a smirk, I quickly insist, “I’m not either.”

  “You don’t even know him.”

  “Doesn’t matter. I’m not his type because I’m not interested. I’m not available.”

  “You’re single.”

  The word begins to poke at a truth I can’t completely accept without breaking down into tears.

  It’s not like I’m afraid to be single or anything. I’ve been single. A lot. I just…I don’t want to be single. I don’t want to move on. I don’t want to start all over in a process that I know is pointless. You know that weird thing people say about finding ‘the one’? Well, it turns out I found him and had to give him up. Because it was the right thing to do. It was what was best for him. When you really love someone, don’t you do those types of things? Put their best interest before your own selfish happiness? God, I wish I was a shittier person so I could’ve just let him walk away from his entire life to be with me…

  I clear away the anguish anchored to my vocal chords. “Even so…I am not available. Dating is not even on my world map at this point. I’ve gotta find a job, an apartment-”

  “An apartment?” Candice interrupts with disbelief in her tone. “What’s wrong with you and Jovi’s apartment?”

  “You really don’t pay attention, do you?” My father quietly mutters.

  She doesn’t, but I’ve never really hated her for it. It’s just who she is. If it doesn’t directly affect her then it doesn’t directly matter to her. Judge all you want, but she’s 80 percent happier than most people I’ve ever known because of it. She worries about very little. Stresses about even less. I guess living in your own little world has its perks. If she were in my situation, I’m not a hundred percent sure she would’ve given much thought about breaking up a royal family.

  “I moved in with Kellan before I left,” I gently remind her. “And I’ve been staying there since I got back.”

  “Why wouldn’t you just stay with Jovi?”

  “Because her boyfriend moved in.”

  And they turned my room into an art studio. I went by there between hospital visits my first week back. While the rest of the apartment basically looks the same with a few photo replacements, my old room has completely been changed. They did a great job on it. There are sections in it for both of them to work on their own projects and a combined area for when they want to work together. It was so disgustingly adorable like everything else they do that I broke down in tears in the door way. Needless to say, trying to move back in was out of the question, so I went back to the only other place I had. The place where all my shit is anyway. But no need to worry. I won’t stay any longer than I have too. Being in the penthouse is like living inside a delicate, dying memory.

  “Well you can’t just live in your ex’s apartment forever, just waiting around for another prince to sweep you off your feet,” my sister scolds. “You have to get out there. You have to-”

  “Candice, will you go pick up your father’s medication?” Our mom interrupts.

  She redirects her attention. “Right now?”

  “Yeah. I got a text it was ready about five minutes ago. I meant to ask you then, but got distracted with trying to finish cleaning out the deep freezer.”

  Dad’s face drops. “I’m gonna miss my ice cream…”

  Before my sister can return to her lecture, our mother adds, “Can you grab us lunch on the way back? Your father needs to eat with the first set of pills.”

  “I’ll stop at Salad! Salad! Salad! They’ve got these great summer salads with dried cherries,” she begins to rave on her way across the room to grab her purse.

  With her back to me, I mouth at my mom, “Thank you.”

  She winks.

  At least my parents have my back.

  Candice continues to gush about the even lighter choices while mom follows behind her to insure she doesn’t get sidetracked and attempt to return to the conversation she was commanding we have.

  Just as I reach for one of my father’s shirts to fold, he turns on the T.V. and calmly states, “Don’t count Kellan completely out of the game just yet.”

  “What a beautiful day for a Lacrosse tournament,” the sports announcer cheerfully says.

  I try to fight the urge to glare at his tactics.

  So, I guess my parents don’t have my back after all. What the hell is wrong with my family? My dad is on one side insisting I wait forever like a damsel in distress, while my sister wants me to Xena warrior princess this shit after a couple weeks of being apart? Oh, and my mom? My mom keeps sending me ‘How to Cope With Loss’ articles like she’s been speed dialing Dr. Phil. She’s insisting I need to talk this out with someone. Once again, I have to ask, does it ever matter what I want?

  My eyes fill with tears as I watch Billie Piper’s do the same.


  They really loved each other, you know? Does no one have the right to end up with the one they love? Not even someone as powerful as a Time Lord? Not even in a fictitious world?!

  “Oh dear God, it’s worse than I thought,” my brother’s voice cuts through the living room at the same time he turns on the overhead lights.

  I don’t bother giving him a glance. I merely cringe at the brightness.