Page 100 of Royally Matched

I throw off my covers, collect my things, and get dressed in the small bathroom with the door closed. After I brush my teeth, I splash water on my face and look at the man in the mirror, staring back at me. He has a hollow look to his face, his eyes dull.

I know I need to accept what she told me last night. She’s right, she’s a princess and with that role comes responsibilities and a way of doing things. However wrong I think she is, she doesn’t think I fit the mold of the perfect husband.

But shouldn’t a marriage be based on love?

I return to the room to find Sofia awake.

“Hi,” I murmur.

“Good morning.”

Is it? It doesn’t feel like a good morning.

“I’ve used the bathroom, so if you want to get in there I’ll wait downstairs for you.”

“Marco—” she begins, but I don’t hang around to hear her repeat her words from last night. I get it. We’re done.

So instead, I collect my things and leave the room, descending the creaky staircase where I pay for the night’saccommodation and step out into the soft Monteluce morning light.

I find the cafe the two ladies were sitting at when we met them yesterday—that was only yesterday?—and order coffee and croissants. I close my eyes, the sun warm against my eyelids, sorrow and disappointment worming across my chest.

How could she look at me the way she does, kiss me the way she did, and not know that what we have between us is real and true? She’s the woman I’ve been searching for without even knowing it. She’s the woman who has touched my heart in a way no woman has before. How can she give that up because, what? I don’t fit the model of a perfect princess’ husband?

No. I don’t believe what she said. I know the force of her feelings for me have scared her into rejecting me. I know that she feels the same way about me as I do about her, but she’s running away, back to the safety of her life filled with rules and decorum.

But it doesn’t matter. She’s made her decision. And even though I know it’s the wrong one, it’s done. Over.

I open my eyes to see Sofia, standing awkwardly by my small table. She is wearing the jeans and T-shirt from yesterday, her hair loose around her shoulders. But whereas yesterday I found her transformation thrilling, today it reminds me how fleeting this moment is between us. How all we will ever have is our one perfect night under the stars in Monteluce.

Wordlessly, I pull a chair out from the table and she sits.

We eat in silence, neither of us knowing what to say. There really is nothing to say. I would give up everything to be with her, to love her.

It’s her choice not to be with me.

I press the screen of my phone and read the time. “Shall we go and see the professor?” I ask.

“We’ve come this far,” she replies.

We make our way to the agreed upon coffee shop where we find him sitting at a table, a cup of coffee and a half eaten pastry on a plate.

“Good morning, Dr. Esposito,” I say as I pull a chair out for Sofia to sit.

“Good morning. How did you two enjoy our town festival last night?” he asks.

The memory of the kiss we shared after the lanterns were released lingers like a sweet ache, so vivid and powerful, but what now can only ever be a beautiful dream.

“It was wonderful,” Sofia replies smoothly, her practiced smile on her face.

“Now, let me order you some breakfast. What will you have?” he asks.

“We were up early, so we’ve eaten already,” Sofia replies.

“In that case, shall we look at this scroll you have for me to translate?”

“Of course. I have it here.” Sofia pulls the scroll from her purse and places it carefully on the table.

Dr. Esposito’s white bushy eyebrows ping up. “It looks very old. How intriguing.”