him I’m carrying his child. My hand trembles when I write the words, and a teardrop smudges the ink from my pen.
It feels good to write it down.
By the time I’m finished writing, my cheeks are wet with tears and it feels like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. It’s cathartic to write the words, even if he hasn’t seen them yet. I read the letter over as my bottom lip trembles, and all the emotion of the past couple of weeks swells inside me.
Do I really want to send this? Will it only make things worse?
I know Theo is a dutiful person. If he sees that I’m carrying his child, will he feel forced to come make an honest woman out of me? Will he be afraid of the scandal? Will it change anything at all?
The seatbelt sign turns on, and the flight crew announces that we’re starting our descent. I look at the letter on my notebook for a moment before closing the cover and tucking it away. The landing is bumpy, and I grip the armrests until my knuckles turn white. When we finally come to a stop, my heart is thumping and a thin sheen of sweat covers my body.
I don’t know if it’s the fear that spiked my veins during the landing, or the relief of making it through alive, but as soon as I get off the plane I feel like a new woman. I go through customs and immigration in a daze, feeling the weight of my notebook in my bag as if it’s dragging me down.
Then, like a beacon of light in a dark night, I see a kiosk. The United States Postal Service logo calls out to me from across the airport lobby.
Without hesitation, I stride toward the kiosk. I drop my bag at my feet and rip it open, hunting for my notebook. I tear the scribbled pages out of it, ignoring the ragged edge of the paper. I stuff my words in an envelope and glue it shut, then scribble Prince Theo’s name on the front, then hesitate.
If I send it to the palace, will someone else read it? There’s tight security on mail that enters the palace. Not everything makes it to the royal family, and I don’t trust the workers to keep my secret. No one can know about this baby except for Theo.
Instead, I mark down the P.O. box that Luca and I used to use to communicate. The one I checked every single day. The one that was always empty, slicing my heart over and over like a thousand little paper cuts.
I hand the letter to the USPS worker and pay the few dollars needed to send it.
As soon as the letter slips through the slot, I let out a breath.
I don’t know if he’ll receive it. Does anyone even check that P.O. box anymore? Or was that letterbox just a monument to my desperation?
Staring at the slot where the letter disappeared, I realize that it doesn’t matter. What felt good about that was telling the truth. It was owning up to my feelings and putting them into words. Once they were on the page, they became real.
Next time I visit my family, I’ll check the P.O. box. If the letter is still there, I’ll know that Theo was never meant to know the truth of my feelings.
If he receives the letter and reads it, I’ll find out how he feels. His actions will show me. He’ll either accept me and the baby, or he’ll turn me away. Either way, it’s out of my hands now, and that feels good. I’ve done what I can do. It’s up to Fate to do the rest.
I walk away from the USPS kiosk with my head held high and a lightness in my heart. For the first time since this whole mess with Theo started, I’ve been honest.
I told the truth.
I love Prince Theo. I’m carrying his child. I’m not sure about being in New York, but I don’t want to stand in the way of Theo being the King that Argyle deserves.
I’m not asking anything of him, and I’m not promising anything of myself. We’re in different countries now, and we’ve decided to walk separate paths. Writing that letter and slipping it through the mail slot was my final act of courage.
The simple, naked truth is all I wrote, and it’s all that matters.
Now, I can move on.
23
Theo
The day Cara leaves Argyle, a gray, driving