“Let Joslyn set up the television interview. She knows what she’s doing.” Elias set a hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “Let’s go out there now.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Joslyn
I was great at my job, but I wasn’t an actress, and I was tired of pretending. I’d stood alongside Aramis, smiling at everyone who walked up to us and serving their food. I watched as King Elias and Queen Adeline spoke to each person with genuine interest and affection. It was fine, picture perfect, until they asked Aramis about our relationship and he said, “What can I say? Sometimes love is right underneath our noses.” He’d kissed me right after saying the words, too, as if to drive the notion home. As if he meant it, and it nearly brought me to tears. I hated it. I hated him for doing this to me and myself for caring this deeply for a man who would never, ever, return my feelings. I hated that I let myself get in this deep. We were supposed to be fooling everyone, not each other, and definitely not ourselves. By the time we left the center, I felt defeated, depleted, even. I’d already been through the motions at Esmée’s house. I’d been through the motions in the car, thinking about how the interview would fare when Aramis introduced the world to Oscar and Esmée. I’d been through the motions in the center with each set of eyes that landed on us and each smile I gave in front of the camera, knowing they were always watching. I promised myself that in the car I could let my guard down. In my car, I could let go of all of this tension. And so, instead of walking to the car Pierre was driving, which had brought Aramis and me, I went to one of the others in the caravan and asked them to take me back to Versailles alone. I’d gotten Adeline’s approval, of course. She didn’t know what was going on with me, but she knew me well enough to know I needed space.
Once in the car, I got an email from King Elias’s secretary, John, with some journalists who would love to interview Aramis and would put a good spin on this story. Instead of spending time alone with my feelings, I spent it vetting the journalists and emailing one—a charming journalist who was a father of five and known to put the royal family on a pedestal. Once that was done, we were already nearing the palace, so I took the remaining moments alone to close my eyes and say a chant to myself: he was never mine to lose. He wasn’t. If he wanted to bring Esmée into his life as my replacement and as a real relationship, that was absolutely his right. Who was I to put a stop to that? No one. A measly commoner. A lowly secretary on their payroll and in their staff. It didn’t matter that the Princess and Queen were my best friends. The fact remained that I was not Oscar’s mother, who had lifelong ties to Aramis and according to his mother, I was not a choice for him to marry.
“Ma’am, we’re here.” The driver set the car in park.
I opened my eyes and looked out the window. It had started to snow. Light, but white tiny specs were clinging to the window. I smiled at the sight. Much like love and heartbreak, the cold could be grueling, but it brought beautiful treasures. I stepped out of the car, shutting my coat tightly over myself as I walked toward the cottages. I was hungry and tired and would absolutely be calling the main house tonight for my food. It was something I didn’t often do, since I liked spending time with my friends in the main areas, but I wasn’t up for it tonight. When I turned the key to my cottage, I looked toward Aramis’s cottage and saw him walking toward me. Instead of waiting, I opened the door and stepped inside, shutting it behind me and locking it for good measure. My heart was pounding as I pressed against it. The knock I knew was coming fell over the door on the other side, but even then, I ignored it.
“Joss. I want to speak to you. I know you’re standing right there,” he said.
I was annoyed at the fact that he was so confident in my being there, and even more annoyed at him insisting I open the door. I decided to ignore him. Let him keep knocking. I kicked off my boots and walked toward the room, shutting and locking that door as well. I called the main house and asked them to bring my dinner and to please wait thirty minutes since I was about to get into the shower. The person on the other line was friendly and agreed, the way we all do when working for The Crown. I showered, taking my time under the spray to shut my eyes and collect my thoughts, my breath, my emotions. It didn’t work. When I stepped out, I felt just as lost as I had when I’d walked in there, but at least I was calm and clean. I dried my hair quickly, running my fingers through it as the heat of the dryer hit it, and dressed in a comfortable long-sleeve T-shirt dress and long cotton socks. When I opened the door, a young girl walked inside, placed everything on the table, and walked back out letting me know she’d be back in two hours to collect everything. I thanked her and shut the door upon her departure before rushing over to the food and wine. Tonight, I’d have food and wine and binge-watch a gossipy drama. The only kind of excitement I was welcoming in my life was that of a person on the screen.