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“So did you,” she reminds me softly.
“Do people know you’re married?” I demand.
She turns to the window, watching the snow-covered hills and tall pine trees reaching for the sky. “I don’t broadcast it, no.” Before I can think of how to respond—because what do you say to that?—Hettie reaches into her coat and, fumbling at her collar, pulls out a chain.
She shows me the ring on the end of the chain.
The ring in a simple gold twist, much like the braids in her hair. I have a plain gold band back at the castle.
It hurts too much to wear it. If I had it around my neck, I think it might burnme.
There was no time for me to find the perfect engagement ring for her. There was the proposal and then there was the wedding. Besides, Hettie told me she didn’t want an engagement ring.
I think that was probably a lie.
We’re silent as I fly over the familiar landscape because I really don’t know what to say.
“Why?” I finally break down and demand as the top turret of the castle comes into view.
“Why what, exactly?” Hettie counters.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Hettie sighs, a long, drawn-out breath that says so much more than she ever could. “Bo, you told me it was a mistake for us to get married. You didn’t want to tell your family. You were afraid of their reaction and what the press would say about me and my family. You finally realized what I’d been telling you for years—I didn’t deserve you. Hettie Crow should not be married to one of the royal family. It was insane to think we should be together.”
“It wasn’t insane.”
“It was. The press would have eaten me alive. My family—You would have been ridiculed.”
“You don’t know what would have happened,” I accuse. “You don’t understand.”
“I know I wanted to be with you,” Hettie says quietly. “But you didn’t want that.”
“You don’t understand,” I repeat, fighting the controls as a gust of wind comes out of nowhere.
Much like this whole conversation.
“I don’t,” she admits, turning to the window.
I’ve wanted to tell her the truth foryears. I’ve wanted to tell her everything, try to make her understand, but I couldn’t.
I still don’t know if I’ll be able to say the words.
“I was willing to stick it out for you,” she says, the steeliness back in her tone. “If you had wanted me. If you had been willing to tell your family about me. But you wouldn’t, so how was I to know what you would have done if I’d told you about Tema?”
“I told my mother.”
There they are. I hear myself say the words but I don’t recognize my voice. I have never told anyone about my conversation with my mother.
Hettie gasps. “You did? But—when?”
I check the instruments as I prepare for the descent. I leave my truck at the airport so no one will need to know I’m back until I’m ready to tell them.
I do everything I can to postpone telling Hettie the truth.
I wait until the plane touches down; after I taxi to the private hangar at the end of the tarmac. I turn the engines off, and still, Hettie is sitting beside me, waiting for me to continue.
“When did you tell her?” she demands.