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“You did?”
I only nod because I’m not about to confess to how I searched through the videos and pictures of the wedding looking for any sight of Bo. “Is Lady Camille nice?”
“She’s great.”
“He gave up his spot in the line of succession,” I say even though Bo must be very aware of the fact. “That makes you—”
That makes Bo the next in line for the throne, after oldest brother Kalle. “Yeah. Not going to happen,” he says in a gruff voice, picking up his mug of tea.
“I always thought it would be Odin.” Neither Kalle nor Bo had ever expressed an interest in being king, and I—like most of Laandia—expected Prince Kalle to eventually step down and allow Odin to become the next king. It still would have pushed Bo forward, but Odin’s children would have taken care of that. Now it’s only Kalle standing in the way of Bo becoming the next king.
“So did everybody.” Bo cups his mug in his hands, steam curling up. I don’t want to think about those hands, because that brings more flashes of memory, and they hurt.
“I’m glad Kalle is going to end up with Edie,” I manage.
“He didn’t really have a choice. They belong together.”
I reach for my cup. “Some said we did.” The words just pop out and I wish I could stuff them back in. Along with the no-hugging rule I made for myself—and already broke—there was the strict no-talking-about-the-past vow.
Two for two already. I’m clearly not good at this.
“Why now?” His voice is choked, sounding angry, hurt, and confused. “Why are you here?”
He’s probably all of those things. Me showing up out of the blue like this, literally walking out of the woods, must be…
I should have warned him. I should have given him time to process. I had weeks to plan, to tell myself this was the right thing to do. That I needed to end it. Shut the door. Closure. Move on.
Whatever it can be called. I needed to see Bo and finally talk to him after so many years.
“It’s not because of the succession thing,” I tell him quickly.
He pauses, looks over the rim of his cup at me. “I never thought it was.”
I nod. I don’t know how to tell him, because I know it’s going to hurt.
Or maybe it won’t. It has been eight years of no contact, so it’s likely Bo has gotten over me long ago, met someone else, and is looking to move on with his life. Maybe this is a blessing for him, too.
“I met someone.”
Bo jerks like I’ve kicked him, and tea splashes over the rim and onto his wrist. “Oh—hot! Are you okay?” I gasp.
He swipes at it with his sleeve. “It’s fine.”
“But you could burn—”
“Who?” he demands. Taking a breath, he sets the cup down. “Who is he?” he asks, softening his tone. His blue-eyed gaze meets mine, and yes, I falter.
There has never been another man since Bo. There has only been strong, solid Bo, who looked at me with so much love that he made me believe in happy endings. I trusted him completely because I knew he’d never hurt me.
Only he did. He broke my heart, and now I’m here, telling him about someone else.
“A man… He’s from Victoria. Timothy.” I draw in a shaky breath. “He’s a good man. He says he’ll take care of… me.” It hurts to look at Bo, the way his jaw flexes, his fingers dig into his knee, but I can’t turn away.
“You don’tsayyou’ll do that, you just do it,” he says roughly.
You didn’t. But I don’t say that. I can’t. Bo is… He’s still wounded. If I had to guess, I’d say he’s not over me, not by a long shot. I think deep down I’ve known that he wouldn’t be. He’s vulnerable, but pretending not to be. Like a branch that’s beginning to rot from the inside as the bark gets tougher and thicker to protect it.
I have no idea if that actually happens to trees, but I can see it’s how it is for Bo. “He’s a good man,” I repeat. “And it’s been a long time.”