16. Princess Erralee

sixteen

With Reeves outside, I couldn't help but watch out the front window, studying him. The window panel had frosted up along most of the outer edges, but there was a perfect circle in the center just large enough for me to peek through. It's funny how you think you know what you want in life, or what you don't want. Then one day something happens, and nothing makes sense . . . Everything you knew to be true has fallen away, leaving a new world you never even considered had existed.

There was a stirring in my heart that had been quickening all morning. As much as I tried to say it was the anxiety over my situation, if I were being honest with myself, I'd have to admit it was Reeves.

Reeves was placed in my life at the exact moment I didn't need a distraction. The way I saw it, my mission had been clear. I had a path carved out, one with two roads. One path to save my country, and the other to blaze alone. That choice had been hard enough, but what was this potential third option? Like a cul de sac, wrapping my emotions, wanting to keep me here… Now, I have this pull. I can't even explain it, but as I look around Reeves' house, and see all these normal everyday things, it almost feels like this is what I've been missing.

I had never considered what life would be like if I hadn't been royal. It was so ingrained in my upbringing, I had never seen anything but the straight path. Maybe my trepidation in marrying King Aswell wasn't as much about him? He has been a perfect gentleman in all ways to me. Now, as I had the distance to consider this, I think I was avoiding the spotlight that would come from being his wife. I had no desire to be a queen, or be put on display. I had never been that girl who wanted fame. Maybe what I needed was just a regular life? Being stuck in Reeves" house presented me with another option.

The irony is that this option would never be an option.

It was just a fantasy.

I paced Reeve's tiny living room, picturing Reeves coming through the front door with the first flowers of spring freshly picked. I imagined us heading out to the fields together, him checking cows, me napping. My mind was reeling through all the things we could do together because we actually had a lot in common. I had more in common with Reeves than anyone in my family. How is it a relationship that doesn't even exist, and isn't an option, is the one that makes the most sense to me?

Reeves finally returned to the house after the sun was already fading. I stepped away from the window, blinking away my thoughts as he pushed through the door. His eyes were wide, but not anxious, as he spoke, "It looks like the plows are out on the main road. You might get out of here sooner than we thought."

He turned his back to me, removing his outerwear, and I was left panicking. There's the knot again. If I'd calmed at all, something shifted again, and suddenly my gut was in my throat. I stole my gaze away, hoping he wouldn't see the panic that was surely seeping onto my face. It had been my plan to run away, but now that I"d been sitting here mulling it over for hours, I wasn't sure where to go, or what to do.

"Ah, look at that," he exclaimed, pointing at the microwave's flashing clock. "The power is back on."

"Yeah." I joined his gaze toward the microwave. "I heard it come on just a few minutes ago."

He crossed the room, setting the time while checking the digits on his wristwatch. "Let's hope it stays on." Turning back to me, his brows knitted together. "Sorry, I was outside so long. I wanted to get as much snow moved as possible before dark. How are you?"

"I rested most of the day, watched out the window—" I tried to brush his apology away, but he spoke over top of me.

"I wasn't asking what you did. I knew there was nothing to do. I asked how you are." His brows angled down in a manner that commanded me not to dismiss his question. It's as if he suddenly had a special power to see through me. I didn't have a choice but to be honest.

I didn't dare tell him how I was massively confused and rethinking everything. I didn't understand how I'd been single forever. Now that I was engaged, I found zero attraction to the man, but I got weak in the knees when I was near another. I also didn't dare tell him I felt the attraction seed days ago, but being stuck here with him made my mind wander in the most curious ways. I never saw him with another woman. I didn't think he was playing me by buying me roses. Nothing added up.

I also didn't tell him that once again, I was scared to run away. My mind had been awakened to the fact that I knew nothing about how to take care of myself. My brain was a pool of confusion, and as the silence expanded it was so loud it eventually drowned out all my thoughts, and we were left standing there. Heat flushed my skin, and my fake smile was brittle.

He paced a step closer, lowering his gaze as if he was looking for physical signs of illness. Still, no words were spoken, and I watched him watch me. It was as if we were dancing without touching; an invisible deafening void of audible words rang so loud, it made my knees weaker with each breath. I felt as if he could see right through me. "I'm fine," I finally murmured with weakened breath, completely aware of the effect of his heated glare.

As if he couldn't handle standing in the pulsating silence for another moment, he tore his gaze from me and moved to the cupboard again. "I don't trust anything in the fridge anymore." He pursed his lips and grabbed a box of pasta and some marinara sauce. "How about Italian?"

"That's perfect," I breathed out, wondering why something so simple as dinner plans suddenly made me feel as if my heart was on display. It was an odd sort of date, that wasn't a date. Forced dinner together. It was the nearness to him. Seeing him at home, doing everyday things. Who would think cooking with someone would feel like this? How did I not know what normal life was until now? It was more intimate than expected, allowing me to see the real him.

Even if I didn't want it, he was probably getting a dose of the average me. Someone nobody ever got to see. I never went anywhere without dresses, hair, and the royal fa?ade. My father would hit the ceiling if he saw me standing in this kitchen wearing some guy's shirt.

But strangely, it felt more right than anything I'd ever experienced. I pulled on my lips, hoping to crease them enough into something that could pass for a smile. It wasn't that I was unhappy, because there was a seed of something so light and giddy in my chest, I couldn't deny it. Unfortunately, there was an underlying knot swelling too, competing for attention.

Don't even think about Reeves. It's an impossibility. My father will have both of our heads.