30. Hailey

CHAPTER 30

HAILEY

I stand in line, ticket in hand, my carry-on slung over my shoulder. The airport bustles around me, a sea of faces I don’t know, all headed to destinations I’ll never see.

My heart feels heavy, weighed down by the life growing inside me and the possibilities I’m leaving behind. I rest my hand on my belly, wondering if the baby can sense my turmoil. Maybe once I get to New York, I can start work again at The Morning Star and throw myself into preparing for the baby’s arrival.

The line inches forward, and I take a step, then another. Each movement feels mechanical, like I’m on autopilot, just going through the motions.

I reach for my phone, needing a distraction from my spiraling thoughts. That’s when I see it — a voicemail. From Luca.

My heart leaps right into my throat, but I put a hard stop on my racing mind, which longs to jump to all sorts of conclusions.

My finger hovers over the play button. Part of me wants to ignore it, to board this plane and never look back. But a bigger part, the part that still loves him despite everything, needs to hear his voice one last time.

And so I press play and lift the phone to my ear.

“Hailey…” His voice is rough, strained. “I know I have no right to ask anything of you right now. But please… if you haven’t left yet… if there’s even the smallest part of you that still believes in us… come to the coronation. Let me show you how much you mean to me. I am sorry for what I said.”

I close my eyes, tears threatening. One of them escapes anyway, to slip down my cheek. I quickly wipe it away, glancing around to see if anyone noticed. The message over, I lower the phone, my heart racing.

The line moves again. The gate agent gestures for me to come forward, to hand over my ticket and board the plane that will take me back to my old life.

But suddenly, my old life isn’t enough anymore. Luca’s words echo in my head — his love, his pleading, his apology. Can I really walk away from all of that? From him?

My hand tightens on my ticket as indecision wars within me. Board the plane and leave Luca and Werdenfeld behind forever? Or turn around and take a leap of faith, giving our love the chance it deserves?

I take a deep breath… And then I’m spinning on my heel and racing back through the terminal, my carry-on bumping against my hip.

“Miss!” the gate agent calls after me. “Miss, your flight!”

I don’t turn back. I can’t. My heart has already made the decision for me.

I weave through the crowds, ignoring the curious stares and irritated grumbles as I jostle past. The gleaming floors and glass walls blur together as I run, focused solely on my destination.

Luca. I’m going back to Luca.

I burst out of the airport into the bright sunlight. Panting, I hail a taxi, practically throwing myself into the back seat.

“The palace,” I gasp out. “Quickly, please.”

“You won’t even get close to it today,” he says. “Not with the coronation.”

“I don’t care.” I shake my head frantically. “Take me as close as you can.”

The driver raises an eyebrow but nods, merging into traffic. I stare out the window, my knee bouncing with nervous energy. Will I make it in time to see Luca crowned? Will we be able to work through everything and come to an agreement, despite what’s happened?

The drive simultaneously takes forever and no time at all. The driver pulls up to the palace gates and I quickly swipe my card before tumbling out of the door and onto the pavement.

But I stumble to a halt, my eyes widening. The palace grounds are packed, crowds of people jostling for a good position, craning for a glimpse beyond the gates. The driver was right. There’s no way I’m getting inside, even with the staff knowing who I am.

I push my way forward anyway, murmuring apologies. But the closer I get to the gate, the thicker the crowd becomes, the individual bodies morphed into an impenetrable wall. I pull out my phone and try to call Luca, but there’s no answer. He’s probably already on stage, maybe even being crowned at this very moment.

“Please,” I beg, trying to squeeze through. “I need to get inside. I’m Hailey Warren; I’m here to see Pr— King Luca.”

But the guards just shake their heads, unmoved. “No entry,” one says firmly. “Invited guests only.”

Desperation claws at my throat. I’m so close — I can’t fail now.

“Please, you don’t understand! I need…” But my pleas fall on deaf ears. I’m just another face in the crowd, another commoner trying to catch a glimpse of royalty.

I’m about to give up, my shoulders slumping in defeat, when I hear a shout.

“Hailey! Hailey Warren!”

My head snaps up. That voice…

And then I see him. Simon, pushing his way through the throng towards me.

“Simon!” Relief crashes over me like a wave. “Please, I need to get inside, I need to see him?—”

He reaches me, grasping my arms. “I know,” he says urgently. “Come with me, quickly.”

He turns to the guards, who snap to attention at his approach. “This woman is with me. She is to be granted entry immediately.”

The guards exchange glances but step aside, allowing Simon to usher me through the gates. We hurry across the grounds, Simon’s hand at my elbow.

“The ceremony is in the gardens,” he explains tersely. “We must hurry.”

My heart is in my throat as we race through the halls, bursting out into the sunlight once more. And there, in the distance, I see him.

Luca stands at the front of a sea of guests, resplendent in his ceremonial robes. My breath catches; he’ll never see me all the way over here. But then, as if he senses my presence, his head turns.

And his eyes meet mine.

Time seems to slow. The noise of the crowd fades away until there is only him, only me.

“Come on.” Simon leads me along a roped-off section protected by security. We carve a path up to the stage as Luca comes down it.

The crowd whispers in excitement, everyone wondering what’s going on as Luca strides towards me, his robes billowing behind him. The moment he reaches me, his hands come up to cup my face, the electricity rippling through us.

“Hailey,” he breathes. “You came back.”

Tears spring to my eyes. “I had to,” I whisper. “I couldn’t leave after you… what you said.”

Something fierce and wonderful blazes in his eyes. He leans down, his forehead touching mine. “I am sorry for saying it would be best to keep the baby always a secret. I didn’t mean it. I love you. More than anything.”

“I love you, too,” I breathe.

“Come.” His fingers lace through mine, and he leads me onto the stage. My heart races as I feel the eyes of thousands of people on us.

The dignitaries on the stage, some of whom I recognize and some I don’t, look on in shock, probably flabbergasted over what’s happening. Luca doesn’t seem to care, though.

“People of Werdenfeld,” he declares, his voice ringing out strong and clear. “I present to you the woman I love. The mother of your future monarch. My soon-to-be queen.”

A gasp runs through the crowd, quickly followed by a rising swell of cheers. I stand tall at Luca’s side, my heart so full it could burst.

“I’m so sorry for everything,” he murmurs, turning to face me. “I never should have let you go. You and our baby — you’re my world.”

Emotion clogs my throat. “I was so afraid you were ashamed of me. Of us. I thought…”

“I’m sorry,” he says, gaze raking across my face. “I handled the situation all wrong.”

Tears slip down my cheeks. This man, this king, he’s everything I’ve ever wanted. And by some miracle, he wants me too.

The cheering of the crowd grows louder, more insistent. Cameras are aimed on us, and I dimly become aware of the fact that a big portion of the world is watching. But I don’t even care. Luca and I are in our own little world.

He grins at me, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “What do you say we give the people what they want?”

I laugh, exhilarated and completely in love. “By all means, Your Majesty.”

He sweeps me into his arms and kisses me deeply, passionately. I cling to him, pouring every ounce of my love into the kiss.

When he’s touching me like this, nothing else matters. Not the crowd, not the cameras, not the burden of the crown. All that matters is him and me and the beautiful life we’ll build together.

When we finally break apart, breathless and beaming, the roar of the crowd is deafening. The coronation ceremony begins, a breathtaking display of centuries-old tradition. I stand at the edge of the stage, heart swelling with pride as I watch the man I love take his solemn vows.

Luca kneels before the archbishop, his face a mask of regal composure. But when his eyes meet mine, they dance with barely contained joy.

The archbishop places the heavy golden crown upon Luca’s head. It glitters in the sunlight, a symbol of the immense responsibility he now bears.

“Rise, King Luca of Werdenfeld,” the archbishop intones. “Long may you reign.”

Luca rises to his feet, tall and proud, every inch the king he was born to be. The crowd erupts into thunderous applause, and it’s a wonder that the ground itself doesn’t shake in jubilation.

He extends his hand to me, and I join him on the dais, trembling with emotion. This is really happening. I’m standing beside the king — my king. The king of my heart.

Still holding hands, we turn to greet his people. Turn to greet our future. Our happily ever after.