Page 9 of Hell Bent (Portland Devils #5)

DISAPPOINTING EVERYBODY

Alix

We didn’t talk much until we were in our plastic booth, biting into our burgers. I said, “Not really in my diet plan, but sometimes you’ve gotta step out.”

“You do,” he said. “Not in my diet plan either. We’re both cheating.” When I looked up to ask why—men didn’t generally fuss about having a burger—he said, “I guess I should ask whether you actually are. Cheating. Where’s the fiancé?”

I held up my left hand. It still felt oddly light and looked strangely naked, because I’d been wearing that huge diamond for a year. “Back in San Jose, probably. Drowning his sorrows with his buddy Brian. The guy you met. His best man.”

“The asshole.”

“That’s the one. Hopefully they’re not burning all my possessions. I’d just moved in. Fingers crossed that somebody will mail me my clothes.”

He said, some of those crinkles forming around his amber eyes like he was trying not to smile, “So the wedding is …”

“Off. It was supposed to be today. See my fingernails? ”

“Uh … yeah. Did you scratch somebody with them or something?”

“No. But I wouldn’t have these fingernails if I hadn’t been getting married, and I’m getting them taken off as soon as possible.

Boy, do these things get in the way. But yes, I did one of those things you only see in the movies, and let’s just say I’m not looking like the heroine.

I left Ned at the altar. I talked to him first, but then I left him.

Embarrassed him, embarrassed my parents … it was the whole enchilada.”

“And you’re driving a truck hauling a fifth wheel,” he said, “because?”

“Pretty obvious.” I took another juicy bite of burger and squeezed mustard beside my wonderfully crispy fries. “I’m running away. Or starting over.”

“Hmm,” he said, eating his own burger. Neatly, which was a little annoying. He was a very calm person. “Was that actually your wedding dress? Sorry I asked you to keep it, then.”

“I wouldn’t have kept it if I hadn’t wanted to. I really wouldn’t have kept it if it had been my wedding dress. Here. I’ll show you my dress.”

I pulled out my phone, and when he saw the picture of me from the wedding-dress-choosing day, he made a face. I said, “I know, right? My mother’s choice. So tasteful.”

“Another princess,” he said. “Or queen? Or is that your father?”

“Oh, no. It’s princesses all the way down with us, here in the female line.

Women don’t succeed to the throne, not if there’s a man to do it instead.

But again—no throne to succeed to. Ersatz princesses, my grandmother calls it.

Drives my mother crazy. The dress I had on was my reception dress, and, no, my mother didn’t approve of it.

I figured she’d have the wedding-dress pictures for the society page, though, and that was enough.

It was a bit of a battle, to be honest, but I won. Not that it matters now. ”

“So I have to ask,” he said. “Anastasia? That’s what the boyfriend called you. But I heard ‘Alix.’”

“Anastasia Alexandra,” I admitted. “Alix for short. The reason is a little embarrassing.”

“Wasn’t she famously murdered, Anastasia? Hell of a name to give your brand-new baby girl.”

“Fortunately,” I said, “I’m not superstitious.

But OK, here’s the reason. I’m telling you because I won’t see you again, which is extremely freeing, and I’m at an inflection point here, where everything I do is determining my future.

Which will not include any hiding, or any masking, either, but it also won’t include taking responsibility for my ancestors possibly harming yours.

I’m not particularly proud of some of them, but it is what it is.

My great-great-aunt was Princess Alix of Hesse, who married Nicholas II of Russia, aka the Tsar. They had four daughters and a son.”

“And one of the daughters,” he said, “was Anastasia.”

“Yes. Alix-slash-Alexandra was my great-great-grandmother’s cousin, and Anastasia was her first cousin once removed. I tell you that because I’ve heard it so often, it’s engraved on my brain.”

“Shot to death by the Bolsheviks in a basement along with the rest of their family,” Sebastian said. “Those are some lucky names, all right.”

“Anastasia was only seventeen,” I said. “Alexei, the Tsarevitch, was thirteen. And now you know why my grandmother wasn’t thrilled about that name.

My mother said, ‘You are a direct descendant of Queen Victoria, who wielded immense power at a time when that power wasn’t otherwise open to women, and you deserve beautiful names.

Family names that will help you hold onto your dignity.

’ I’m not sure today was what she had in mind.

” I ate the rest of my fries and was sorry they were gone.

“Alix is fine. Alix is good. Alexandra is one of my grandmother’s middle names, and nobody has to know what it means.

Anastasia is a bridge too far. Ned kept wanting to call me that.

Said it made me sound more ‘special.’ I don’t want to be special.

I want to be normal. I always have. He’d tell people about the princess thing, and I’d—” I stopped myself before I could go on some kind of Bitterness Rant in order to avoid feeling guilty.

“Maybe one reason I broke it off, honestly.”

“You didn’t think the same things were important,” Sebastian said.

“Seems like a good reason to me. Anastasia is a beautiful name, though, viewed objectively. Complicated name. Suits you, I’d say, but you do you.

” He reached across the table. I froze, but he wiped something off the side of my mouth with his thumb. “You had a little mustard.”

I had to laugh. “I’m so classy. Princess material all the way.”

“So—why?” he asked. “Why’d you break it off? Makes sense to me, seeing you with the guy, but what happened to make you realize it, right at the end?”

“I just couldn’t go through with it,” I tried to explain.

It wasn’t easy, since I barely understood it myself.

“I had an anxiety attack and thought it was just nerves, and then I had a worse one at the church. I thought I was going to faint for a minute there, or possibly throw up. Maybe I’d still have gone through with it even so, though, because I keep my promises. ”

“Not all promises have to be kept, I guess,” Sebastian said.

“You’re right,” I said, “but how do you tell the difference? It was my grandmother. She said that if I wasn’t sure, I should walk.

Just walk right out of the church. That life was too short to live it in doubt or worse, that I’d always held my head high and owned my choices, so why wouldn’t I do it now? ”

“Wise,” Sebastian said.

“She’s always wise. She’s my role model.

At least I talked to Ned first. That’s the only bright spot, that I didn’t leave him standing there, looking stupid.

He’s pretty crushed, though.” I had to stop and compose myself before I went on.

“It doesn’t make me proud to know that. I felt stuck.

Trapped. Not his fault. Mine, for not knowing myself better. It’s a lousy thing to do to somebody.”

“Be lousier to marry him knowing you felt that way,” Sebastian said, eating a fry, then stuffing the container with a good half of his fries back into the bag.

“That’s what my grandmother said. That’s the only reason I could do it. Are you not eating the rest of those?”

“Uh … no. Want them?”

“You bet I do. I haven’t eaten since breakfast, and I couldn’t eat much then. Pure panic. What you’re seeing is me a hundred times more composed. Frightening thought. This is a first, though. What kind of guy doesn’t finish his fries?”

“A guy with a meal plan, like I told you,” he said, fishing them out and handing them over. “How’d your parents take the walking-out deal?”

“My mother was furious. At me and my grandmother. Even more at my grandmother. She thought my grandmother talked me into running. But I just—” I threw out a hand.

Unfortunately, I caught his hand as he was lifting his milk carton—yes, he was drinking milk, while I was having a chocolate milkshake—and just about knocked it onto the floor. I didn’t, because he hung on.

“Whoa, there,” he said, taking my hand in his.

I couldn’t breathe for a second. It was the intensity in his amber wolf-eyes, or the way he sat so straight and still, or something. Or that he was holding my hand.

I took my hand away, and he let me. “I realized my life isn’t quite working,” I said. “And I need to figure out how to make it work.”

“Still doesn’t explain the party dress,” he said.

I seized on that gratefully. Much less fraught topic.

“The only thing I had. My grandmother went with me back to the hotel to change, the one where the reception was going to be held. I hope somebody eats all that food, and I’m not even going to think about the fact that a morally evolved person would pay back their parents.

Do you have to pay it back if you didn’t want that fancy wedding?

It was over two hundred thousand dollars, so I’m sure hoping the answer is ‘no.’ But if it’s ‘yes,’ well, I’ll just have to figure out a way. ”

“I don’t know,” Sebastian said. “Maybe pay back the cost of the wedding you wanted.”

“That’s actually wise,” I said. “Huh.”

“Don’t act so surprised,” he said, and I smiled and went on to say, “Anyway, I had my reception dress and shoes at the hotel to change into, so at least I didn’t flee in a wedding gown and veil. Small mercies.”

“But you didn’t have a pickup and a fifth wheel there,” Sebastian persevered. “So, again?—”

“The fifth wheel was at my grandmother’s. It’s mine. I’d been living there while I went to school, and when I was—before that. But like I said, I’d moved in with Ned over Thanksgiving, and my clothes were gone.”

“Pickup?” he pressed.