Page 54 of Broken Desires
“It doesn’t really matter, does it?” I say, trying to keep my cool. “Liam, Alexander, whatever name you go by, we were always on borrowed time.”
He looks at me, trying to find something in my expression. “Do you honestly believe that?”
My response is a shrug, but it feels like I’m shrugging off more than his question—like I’m trying to shrug off the whole ordeal.
“We were more than that. We were friends, Nessa,” he insists, emphasizing the friendship we once shared.
“Friends don’t keep secrets like that from each other.”
He sighs and throws his hands up in the air. “You must see how difficult it would have been to tell you all that.”
He runs a hand through his hair, a gesture of frustration. “How was I supposed to drop that kind of bombshell?”
“You had chances,” I point out, my voice steady even if my heart isn’t. “But you chose silence every time.” You saw me fall for you, and you kept your secrets, I add to myself. I shake my head and look at my watch. “I’m sorry, but I have to go back to my friends’ wedding, King Alexander.”
He doesn’t back down, stepping closer and blocking my path to the door. “Will you come to the coronation? Everyone else will be there. You haven’t responded yet.”
That invitation hangs between us, tricky and full of implications. If he’s not tied down and inviting me as he says, then showing up wouldn’t tag me as “the other woman.” But stepping into that grand world of his, filled with all its royal fanfare and fancy titles, just highlights how different our lives are.
“Come, please,” he adds, and there’s something in the way he says it—like he’s genuinely asking for my support, not just my presence.
The plea hits harder than I expect and the silence between us feels heavy, filled with words we haven’t yet found the courage to say. His request isn’t just about being present at the coronation; it’s a plea for support, for a glimpse into his life that I’m not sure I’m ready to re-enter.
The moment stretches between us, loaded with unspoken questions and unresolved tension. His request for me to attend isn’t just about showing up; it’s about whether I’m willing to step back into his world, even if just for a day. “I’ll think about it,” I say finally, the words heavy with implication.
He steps away from the door, his movement signaling a resignation but also hope that perhaps I’ll consider his request. Then he looks at me, the intensity in his gaze trying to communicate what words cannot. “I miss you, little witch, terribly.”
The earnestness in his expression unsettles me, stirring emotions I’ve tried so hard to bury. I turn away, cutting off our visual connection. It’s easier this way, to not see the plea in his eyes or the way his hands might reach out in a silent call for understanding.
“And I miss Liam,” I admit quietly to myself as I reach for the door, leaving the room without allowing myself a final glance back. It’s a confession of longing for the past, for the simplicity of our connection before royal duties and hidden truths built walls between us.
Chapter 18
Alexander
I’ll be there. Those three words injected an unexpected thrill into the upcoming coronation, lightening the heavy cloak of duty that’s been my constant companion since assuming the throne. The weight of responsibility—ruling a nation—has been mine for a couple of months now, but the idea of Nessa witnessing my formal coronation adds a layer of personal significance to the ceremony. Walking down the grand hall to the throne, under the scrutinizing gaze of government officials, global leaders, and my citizens, to then sit and wear the crown my father once wore— it all suddenly feels even more daunting, more real.
“Are they here yet?” The sudden intrusion of Henrick and Astrid into my office snaps me out of my reverie. They’re a striking reminder of our father, sharing his dark curls, with Astrid looking almost like Henrick’s twin despite their two-year age gap. And here I am, the outlier with my mother’s light-brown hair and green eyes, yet the one burdened and blessed with the crown.
I feign annoyance, “I’ve told you, barging into the king’s office isn’t proper. I am the king, after all.”
Henrick rolls his eyes, striding in with Astrid on his heels. “Chill, it’s just us. No need for the royal act.”
Their ease brings a smile to my face. “Just remember, unless you want another lecture from Hank on proper etiquette around royalty, you might want to knock next time.”
Henrick visibly cringes at the reminder, and I can’t help but chuckle. Our relationship has improved significantly since our heart-to-heart, and it feels like I’ve truly reconnected with my brother.
“So, are they here?” Astrid, ever the excited one, takes a seat, her curiosity barely contained.
“Who?” I play along.
“Your American friends!” she nearly bursts, anticipation lighting up her eyes.
My gaze flicks to Henrick, suspicious.
He raises his hands in defense. “I didn’t say anything.”
“He didn’t. I don’t know anything about Vanessa.”