20. Nessa
Walking around Copenhagen the next day, Alexander arranged for one of the guards with us to be fluent in ASL. It's these thoughtful gestures that deepen my love for him. The city unfolds in front of us, each corner and cobblestone street adding layers to my complicated feelings.
My friends take in the sights with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Poppy and Eva are awestruck, soaking in the newness of it all, while Cole and Ethan display familiar boredom, probably having been here more times than they can count. As for me, I'm seeing Copenhagen not just as a visitor but as a potential place to call home.
Could I really live here? The thought is both thrilling and daunting. Would I blend into the city's rhythm, becoming just another face among the locals enjoying a sunny day in Nyhavn? Or would I always be seen as the American girlfriend of the king, living under the constant scrutiny reserved for those in the spotlight?
Caught up in these thoughts, I don't realize I've let out a sigh until Eva nudges me, pulling me back to the moment.
"Are you okay? It's unlike you to sigh in front of The Little Mermaid, especially knowing your love for art," she says, her eyes filled with concern.
"I'm just… I have a lot on my mind," I admit, but I don't want to spoil this moment for them.
Her expression shifts, showing she's clearly worried. "Is there anything we can do to help? You've been pretty quiet since yesterday, and we're all a bit concerned," she mentions, gesturing toward Poppy, who gives me a supportive look.
I try to dismiss their worries with a wave of my hand, feeling a pang of guilt for making them anxious. "It's nothing… yet. Just something I need to figure out on my own."
Understanding, she links her arm with mine, offering silent support. "Okay, I won't push. Just remember, we're here for you, no matter what. Judgment-free zone, always."
I lean into her, grateful for the reminder of our unbreakable bond. "I know. I love you girls," I respond, comforted by their unwavering support.
Lost in thought, my day out in Copenhagen ends up more of a haze than an adventure. By the time I find myself under the shower's spray in the late afternoon, my mind's running in circles. One side of me is convinced that saying yes to staying in Copenhagen is the only sane choice. Yet there's this nagging voice arguing the exact opposite.
Realizing I need a different perspective, I decide to seek out the girls. We've always been each other's sounding board, able to cut through indecision with insights. Dressed and determined, I head to Eva's room, hoping for clarity.
After a couple of knocks, Eva opens the door, her cheeks flushed.
"Oh, am I interrupting?" I can't help but ask, noting her appearance.
"No," she hurries to assure me, though a sharp glance is thrown over her shoulder at whatever Cole's just said. "Come in," she invites, opening the door wider.
Stepping inside, I'm met with the sight of Cole hastily tying his sweatpants, looking frustrated, his erection evident. Averting my gaze from the obvious, I mutter, "I am interrupting."
Eva dismisses my concern, motioning for me to join her on the bed. "Nah, I'm his wife. He can wait—he'll get some later," she jokes with a casualness only she can pull off.
Cole, ever the pragmatist, decides to exit with a mission. "I'll go get Poppy," he announces, heading toward the door.
His offer catches me off guard, "Oh, that's very thoughtful of you. Thank you."
"Don't thank me," he throws back over his shoulder. "Just figured if I'm getting cockblocked, so is Hawthorne."
Eva throws her head back and laughs, a light moment that temporarily eases the weight on my shoulders. "That's the spirit," she agrees, and for a brief moment, my complicated situation feels a little lighter, shared among friends who manage to find humor even in the awkwardness.
"So what's up?" Eva gets right to the point once Poppy joins us, and we're all settled on her bed, legs crossed.
Taking a deep breath, I dive into it. "He asked me to stay."
Eva's eyebrows shoot up. "Oh? Like, for the summer?"
I bite my lip, nervous about their reaction. "No… he wants me to move here. To stay for good."
"I— Wow," Poppy replies, visibly stunned. "I… wow," she repeats.
"Yeah, you said that already," I point out, a bit of humor to break the tension. "It's insane, right? He's the king of a country, and I'm the nobody from nowhere."
Eva just nods, thoughtful. "Insane? A bit, yeah. But then, a lot of amazing things seem insane at first. I mean, everyone thought I was nuts for giving Cole a second chance, let alone marrying him. But here I am, happier than ever."
Her words give me a bit of hope, something to cling to in the whirlwind of my thoughts.
Poppy chimes in, trying to be helpful. "Sometimes, the crazy choices are the right ones."
"Even outside of a Hallmark movie?" I somewhat joke.
She shrugs. "Maybe. But I know this much, if you don't try, you'll always wonder, what if? I felt the same about Ethan, and giving us a chance was the best decision I ever made, even though I had a lot at stake."
"So you think I should stay?" I ask, looking for some sort of confirmation.
Eva cuts in before Poppy can respond. "No, we're saying you should listen to your gut. And deep down, you probably already know what you want. You're just trying to figure out if it's too crazy."
"Is it too crazy?" My voice is almost a whisper, half hoping they will say it is, half hoping they won't.
Both Poppy and Eva nod, their agreement coming in a quiet chorus. "It is crazy," Eva says with a level of sincerity that makes me listen. "But sometimes, crazy leads to the best parts of our lives. The real question is, do you love him?"
I pause, the weight of the question anchoring me. "I love Liam," I start, feeling the distinction between him and Alexander keenly. "He's everything I've ever wanted—kind, thoughtful, and he just gets me. But then there's Alexander, with his duties and a life I know nothing about. What if that's too much?"
Their silence speaks volumes, reflecting the gravity of my dilemma back at me.
Eva breaks the quiet, her words firm. "He loves you, Nessa. That much is clear to anyone who sees you two together. Cole's seen it, we've seen it. You need to have a conversation with him. Share your fears. He'll listen."
The idea of laying all my worries bare is daunting, but Eva's right. "I do want to stay," I confess, the truth of it ringing clear. "I want to be with him."
"Then talk to him," Poppy urges, her conviction bolstering my resolve. "He's been honest with you about everything else when asked directly. Let him reassure you."
Their advice settles deep within me, bringing some clarity to the storm of my emotions. Wanting to stay isn't just about embracing the love I have for Liam; it's about confronting the unknowns of Alexander's world head-on. The first step is having that all-important conversation, armed with the knowledge that, at its core, this decision is about love—the kind that's willing to navigate through the crazy to find its footing.
"Okay, I'll go see him now," I declare, feeling a mix of determination and nerves.
"Text us later!" Eva asks before I head for the door.
"Promise!" I reply, my mind already racing ahead to the conversation I'm about to have with Alexander.
Just as I'm about to message him, I'm surprised to find his adviser, Hank, waiting outside my room.
"Can I help you?" I ask, slightly on guard.
"Oh, Miss Caldwell. Yes, I was hoping to speak with you briefly, if you don't mind," Hank says, maintaining a professional demeanor.
I touch my chest in a questioning gesture, and he nods. "I was actually looking for Alexander. Do you know where I can find him?"
Hank's expression tightens slightly, a hint of disapproval seeping through. "His Majesty is in the library."
I mentally kick myself for not using Alexander's title; even his name is a protocol minefield.
Hank gestures for me to follow. "Please, allow me to escort you there."
With a nod, I agree, though I'm bracing myself for whatever this conversation might entail.
"Before we go, as you might be aware, my name is Hank, and I served as the late king's secretary for twenty-five years before assuming my current role beside King Alexander," he shares.
"Yes, that is impressive and I'm sure that King Alexander is grateful to have you."
"Thank you, Miss Caldwell. I appreciate your kind words. It's been a significant transition for all of us," Hank says as we start walking toward the library. His face appears formal, but I sense a thaw in his initial standoffishness.
As we navigate the corridors, I brace myself for what's coming. Hank's presence, by my door no less, suggests this isn't a casual chat. He stops us for a moment and continues talking to me.
"I wanted to speak to you directly, given your… unique position in the king's life," he begins, choosing his words carefully. "King Alexander's role is one of immense responsibility, not just to the crown but to the country and its people, but he is still very young, and some aspects of this life are still escaping him."
I quietly listen, aware of the veiled caution in his words.
"We are a monarchy deeply rooted in tradition, and His Majesty's position is already under scrutiny. People are questioning his youth and the time he spent in the US," he explains, adding layers to his earlier caution.
"I see…" My response trails off, even though, in truth, I don't fully grasp where he's heading with this.
"A monarch's first duty is to his people and to the legacy he upholds. No monarch can govern effectively if ruled solely by his heart," Hank continues, his words laden with the weight of centuries-old doctrines.
"What are you not saying, Hank? That I'm all wrong for your king?" The directness of my question seems to catch him off guard. "I can learn. I can become worthy of him."
He seems taken aback by my forthrightness. "It's not my place to judge our king's… personal choices."
"Yet, it seems like you are," I can't help but retort, frustration building inside me.
Hank, unfazed by my challenge, takes out his phone and starts scrolling. "It appears you were quite… friendly with Prince Henrick at the pre-coronation event," he says, handing me his phone.
I'm taken aback by the photo on the screen—a snapshot of me and Henrick laughing, my hand casually resting on his shoulder. "There's nothing going on between Henrick and me. I'm in love with Alexander." Titles be damned at this point.
Surprisingly, Hank's expression softens into something resembling sadness rather than annoyance. "I believe you, and that's exactly why I'm here," he admits, gesturing toward the phone. "Please, read the article."
The headline of the article he points to is ominous: "Prince Henrick, the wayward prince, strikes again."
Reading through the article, I can't hide my shock. The accusations, the blatant assumptions, and the outright lies—it's overwhelming. Henrick, the wayward prince, and now me, implicated as his American fling with a supposedly dubious past? How do they even know about my criminal record?
I glance at Hank, searching for some hint of how to navigate this. "How could they spin this story so quickly?"
Hank meets my gaze, his expression grim. "This is the reality for the Danish royal family. The press is relentless. They unearth what they deem newsworthy, regardless of the truth."
As I read further, seeing the speculation about Henrick's actions as a mark against the new king, my heart tightens—not just for Henrick, but for Alexander too. Hank's visit, I realize, is more than a courtesy; it's a warning. The media's reaction to a simple interaction with Henrick hints at a larger storm brewing on the horizon should my relationship with Alexander come to light.
Handing Hank's phone back, I digest the implications. "I see your point," I admit, the reality of our situation settling in. "This complicates things."
Hank nods, his demeanor still formal yet tinged with a hint of empathy. "Indeed, Miss Caldwell. Associating closely with His Majesty comes with its own set of challenges and public scrutiny."
"What do you want me to do?" The question escapes me, a plea for some form of guidance amid the turmoil.
Hank maintains his composure, his face smooth yet carrying a note of caution. "It's not my place to dictate your actions, Miss Caldwell. My intention is merely to present you with the full picture. His Majesty tends to lead with his heart, sometimes overlooking the potential fallout. It's clear you care deeply for him, and naturally, you desire what's best for his future."
His words lay bare the unspoken truth, echoing the fear gnawing at me. "So my being in his life complicates things for him."
"Quite," he confirms.
I nod. The joy of Alexander's request for me to stay is overshadowed by the potential upheaval it could bring. My decision to stay, to be a part of Alexander's life, has now another dimension—his own well-being, his legacy, his… well, him.
We walk a bit more, and the reality of Alexander's request to stay hits differently now. It's not just about us being together; it's about what's best for him, his role, his duty.
"I get the importance of his position and the kind of attention it brings. I wouldn't want to make things harder for him," I find myself saying, feeling some sadness.
Hank nods, seeming to appreciate my understanding. "It's good to hear you say that. We all need to play our part in keeping the crown's image intact."
Soon, we stop by this grand door, surrounded by portraits of what must be Alexander's ancestors. Hank signals that this is where I'll find Alexander, but before I can knock, my attention is caught by a small window next to the door. Through it, I see Alexander's mom standing in the library, giving me a good look at her face as she's talking with him. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I pause, watching her. This moment, sneaking a peek into her world, kinda cements how big this all is—not just Alexander and me, but everything his life entails.