Chapter 39

C HAPTER 39

WEEKS SINCE KING THEO'S CORONATION: FOUR

It turns out that the "too long; didn't read" version of almost marrying the king of England is just the word "almost." It could have happened, but it didn't. Close but no cigar. The happily-ever-after-that-wasn't.

And just like Princess Louise predicted, the tl;dr version of King Theodore Geoffrey Edward George's coronation ceremony is: Boring ceremony, big hat, stolen jewels. (Now with a side of heartbreak.)

I've never felt so helpless as when I watched the live stream of the event and saw the desperation in his eyes. I wanted to be the one to make him happy, but I couldn't. Theo and I were impossible from the very beginning; we fell in love in between life and death, the sea and the stars, reality and make-believe. It was never going to work, but I still feel mystified that it didn't.

After the coronation, I quickly deleted my Google Alert for "Comet, dog," and then blocked everything royal from my social media feeds, but it didn't help. It's the irony of my life that fate wasn't enough to keep Theo and me together, while the plane crash has made sure it's all anyone wants to talk about. Everywhere I go, I'm "one of the plane-crash girls." At the library and the dining hall and freshman movie night in the dorm, I'm bombarded with royal news.

"Did you date King Theo?"

"Did you hear about Prince Henry's real father?"

"Princess Victoria's having a blowout eighteenth-birthday party. Were you invited?"

Kind of, yes, and obviously not.

I'd pay a hundred bucks just to have someone ask what my major is instead. (Still undeclared, but I'm trying every day to embrace the uncertainty instead of stressing over it.)

I'm packing up my things after the end of a Psych 101 lecture when my phone buzzes. It's a message from Naomi. She texts about two hundred times a day to check on me, which is equal parts thoughtful and emotionally draining. I'm never sure how to explain that even though leaving was the right thing, I still sometimes feel like I'm trying to breathe from the bottom of a muddy river.

I step out of Swift Hall, and my eyes are drawn to the water. Northwestern's campus is located on the shores of Lake Michigan, and not a day goes by that I don't think about the way the Eiffel Tower lights reflect off the Seine or how the sunset burns over a beach in Amorgos. Sometimes when I close my eyes, I can still smell passion fruit on an imaginary breeze and feel the sticky sweet juice on my fingers.

All of that is great, but there's something special about Chicago in October. The photography club met yesterday afternoon and we drank maple lattes and took pictures of each other crunching orange and red leaves underfoot. It turns out "the future" is an overwhelming concept, but that's not reason enough to latch on to something that promises easy answers, and going to college and joining clubs and figuring things out one day at a time isn't as scary as I thought it'd be.

My phone buzzes again. I open the texts from Naomi as I wander down Campus Drive.

Get your ass to Wrigley.

Dad scored tickets to the game.

Levi and I are waiting for you.

I blink at my phone in surprise. The Cubs have a home playoffs game today, but Naomi never said anything about wanting to go.

My thumb hovers over my phone as I debate what to say. My classes are done for the week, but I have homework. I could go, but what if someone recognizes me?

Stop thinking of excuses and just come.

Don't be sad and alone when you can be sad with me, a hot dog, and hot guys in tight pants!

I can't help but smile, and even though the air smells like rain that reminds me of London, I agree to meet up with her at the game.

I quickly swing by my dorm to drop off my bag, and then I run to catch the Purple Line from Evanston to Wrigley Field. The platform is so crowded with baseball fans in white and blue that I miss the first train and am forced to wait for the next one. I shoot a text to Naomi.

Ugh. Missed the purple line

She responds instantly. NOT THE PURPLE!!!

The second train is wall-to-wall with bodies. I squeeze toward the end of the car, put my headphones on, and zone out until my phone buzzes in my pocket. It's Naomi, checking on my location. I'm typing my response when the train slows to a halt.

I pop out my headphones in time to hear most of the announcement. "Unexpected delay… obstruction on the track… please be patient… we'll be moving again as quickly as possible."

Train delay. Might be late, I tell Naomi.

Don't be!

The air in the crowded car is sticky and humid, and every minute feels like a hundred. I'm questioning how much I even like baseball by the time the train starts moving again. The energy among the Cubs fans amps up, and they make room in this overcrowded sweat lodge to accommodate a trio of bucket drummers that block me from getting off when I try to make my transfer.

I have to get off at the next stop, and I just squeeze through, narrowly avoiding being smashed. I check the time and see four new texts from Naomi. I glance at the arrivals board and debate waiting for the next train or running the last half mile to the stadium.

A fat raindrop falls on my phone screen. I glance miserably at the sky and decide to cut my losses. Fate clearly does not want me at this game.

It's about to rain and I'm exhausted. Have fun without me!

Her response is lightning fast. Just come!

The rain falls harder, soaking through my shoes. I'm heading back to campus. Sorry. Rain check!

Naomi's next text arrives as I hit send. Don't make me ruin the surprise, Wheeler.

The train pulls in. I pause half in and half out of the train, my heart in my throat.

Wheeler? There's only one person on earth who calls me that.

I'm slightly dazed as I take a seat on the vacant train car. My phone buzzes again, but it's not Naomi. It's from a ten-digit number, the kind that belong to people who live in the UK.

Keep an eye on him for us, okay?

P.S. You owe me a dress.

All at once I understand what's happening, even if I don't understand how. My heart is in my throat as the train leaves the station. I'm the first one out the door at the next stop, and I sprint toward Wrigley Field in the pouring rain, where I run into Naomi and Levi outside the stadium.

"What are you doing here?" she asks, looking alarmed.

"Where is he?" I grip her arms as I double over to catch my breath.

"On his way to campus!"

"He's on the train?" I'm already backing away from them, toward the nearest crosswalk. I weave around people and someone yells at me to slow down. Finally, I reach the train stop and elbow my way through the crowd, looking under umbrellas and rain ponchos. Every face is a stranger's, and my heart begins a hummingbird rhythm.

He's not here .

The platform is crowded with game-day crowds, and I'm quickly swept into the fray and onto the train, stuck between a woman with a stroller and two men loudly arguing over the Cubs' chances of going all the way this year.

"Are you looking for someone?" The woman with the stroller frowns at me as I crane my neck, still searching. "What do they look like?"

"He's… tall," I say unhelpfully.

The train stops and I slip out to transfer back to the Purple Line. I find an empty seat at the back of the car and sit down in sopping-wet clothes. I glance at my reflection in the window. My hair (brown again) is hanging in clumps around my face, and my eyes are wide with shock. I drop my head against the window. This rapid fluctuation between wild excitement and crushing disappointment can't be good for my heart.

I slump back in my seat as my phone vibrates again with a new message from Naomi.

He's lost. Says he's coming back to Wrigley.

"Wait! I need to get off the train!" I yell. A young guy sticks his foot between the closing doors and helps me pry them apart.

"Thank you!" I yell over my shoulder as I spill back onto the platform. The train whooshes away, and I shield my eyes from the drizzle to check when the next one is coming.

T RAIN DELAY.

I wail in frustration. "I'm just trying to get to Wrigley!"

"If you wanted to see me so badly, Wheeler, you could have called."

The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and for a single, perfect breath, time stops.

Theo is waiting on the opposite platform, wearing a Cubs hat and a grin. Comet is by his side. We stare at each other for a moment that erases four weeks of hurt in one effortless heartbeat.

"Wait there!" we both shout at the same time and start racing down the steps to the street. He's faster than I am, and before I can breathe, he's crushing me into a hug that transforms into a kiss as he lifts me up and I wrap my legs around his waist. I taste salt on our lips and realize I'm crying.

I pull back, and he sets my feet on the ground, keeping his arms locked around me. I lean into him, too scared to hope. "How are you here?" I search the street for his royal entourage.

He brushes wet hair out of my face with one hand as the other slips into the back pocket of my jeans. "My plane didn't crash."

I'm trembling with anticipation. "You know what I mean."

"You made me brave enough to imagine a different ending." He pulls a lighter from his pocket and flips it open. The flame flickers to life as chills race across my skin. "Do you remember what we did the first time we met?" Fire reflects in his eyes.

"We burned my plans for the future." It felt so symbolic at the time, turning my itinerary to ash.

He pins me under his gaze until I can't breathe. "And now I've burned mine." He leans in with a whisper, his breath sending shivers across my neck and down my spine. "It's over, American girl."

My heart is in my throat and I'm crying again. Even on the nights I let myself hope for our future, I never dreamed of this, because wanting it was too painful. "What do you mean?"

"The minute you left, Victoria begged me to abdicate and let her take the throne. I said no over and over again because I didn't think it'd be fair to her. But then she came to me with plans and ideas and a way forward. She wants it, and I think the country deserves a leader who does. Plus, there's no denying she'll be bloody good at it."

Queen Victoria. It feels right. Say what you will about royalty, if anyone in that family can do it right, it's her.

"We decided to wait until her eighteenth birthday, but Parliament passed an official declaration of abdication today."

My eyes blur with tears, and I'm too stunned to speak. Theo holds me until Comet nudges his way through our legs, and I finally find my words again. "What about Comet?" I bend to give him a scratch behind the ears.

"Tor told me to tell you that he still lives at Buckingham, but we're free to visit him whenever we like."

My heart squeezes painfully; I don't know how to deal with all this news at once. It's too much like my impossible daydreams, too good to be true. "‘We'?"

"The disgraced former king of England can't exactly stay in the palace, Wheeler."

"Where will you live?"

Theo's mouth twists wryly as he runs his fingers through my hair and rests his hand on the back of my neck. "I think that depends on you."

"Stay in Chicago. With me," I say quickly. I don't know what our future will look like tomorrow, or next month, or next year, but there's no one I'd rather be with as we figure it out. "I mean, not in my dorm. My roommate would freak out. But there are places close to campus. You could apply and start in January! Or not, if you need time to figure out what you want. But you should definitely stay here. In the city. With me."

Theo's lip twitches at my rambling. "If you insist."

Tears blur my vision as my world turns upside down again.

I spent the last month telling myself that fate didn't want us together, but I've never been so relieved to be wrong. " Fate, " I whisper, almost to myself. I tip my head back and lock watery eyes with Theo. "You were right the whole time."

He shakes his head with a grin. "Nah. This isn't fate, Wheeler."

I blink in surprise. "It's not?"

"Fate can piss off."

"Shh! It'll hear you."

Theo cups his hands around his mouth. "Piss off—"

I cover his mouth with my hands, his shoulders shaking with laughter. I check the sky for falling bombs and then put my hands on my hips. "Don't tempt it! I don't want to deal with a disaster today."

"I'm not bothered, because we're stronger than fate," Theo says as he pulls his ring out of his pocket, turning it thoughtfully between his fingers. "What we have is better, because we chose it ourselves." He holds the ring up, his eyebrow cocked. I nod, and with steady hands, he slips the ring back on my fourth finger.

With Theo's other hand on the back of my neck and a promise in his eyes, I've never felt so rooted to a moment or this city or this boy who has always believed in us.

We kiss as cars honk and pedestrians dodge around us on a busy street corner, not unlike the first day we met. We probably don't have long until he's recognized, but we stand in the middle of my city anyway and kiss until drizzling rain turns to whisper-soft mist. When we finally break apart, he threads his fingers through mine.

"What do we do now, Wheeler?"

I take his hand and we start the long walk home. "Whatever we want."