The waitress comes by with the bill and before she can get close I give her the look that she better not dare come here right now. She gives me the yikes, girl look and then gladly leaves.
“You knew,” he says again, rubbing the palm of his hand up and down his face. “You knew.”
“I didn’t, I swear. I only found out this afternoon, after you left, I promise.”
“Your promises mean nothing.”
I balk at that. I shouldn’t be bothered by it, but I am. “Hey, I never promised you anything, okay. And by the way, it was wrong to record it and you can decide whether I’m telling the truth or not, but you’ve been lying to me this whole time.”
“Don’t you dare flip it around on me.”
“I’m not flipping anything, I’m just pointing something out. You told me lies first.”
“I had to,” he says, practically growling at me. “I had to for my own sake and my family’s sake.”
“Okay, well, I’m just saying.”
“And I’m just saying, we’re done here.”
“Viktor.”
He shakes his head sharply and taps his fingers on top of my phone. “Delete this, please.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” I tell him. I grab the phone and though it takes me a moment, my hands are shaking so hard I nearly drop it, I figure out how to delete it. “It’s gone.” I show it to him.
But he doesn’t look relieved. He doesn’t look anything except pissed. And while I had been treated to the Viktor who minds his manners and has funny sayings and loves innuendo, I’d also witnessed the Viktor today that had no problems knocking out Tito several times with complete ease, a man he didn’t know and a problem that wasn’t his.
Maybe I don’t know this guy at all. Maybe Johan Andersson was someone totally different than Crown Prince Viktor and maybe now I’m seeing who he really is.
But I don’t think that’s the case. I think Viktor is as multi-faceted as anyone is and what I’m seeing now is a man who is suitably angry because I broke his trust.
“The way you looked after me,” he starts to say and then trails off.
“I didn’t know,” I tell him, desperation running through me like wild horses. “I swear I didn’t know. Everything I did, I did for the very same reason you gave me earlier. That I’m drawn to you. And I just wanted to help. That’s all. You have to believe me, I had no idea who you were until tonight. Please.”
That seems to get through to him, seems to sink in. His shoulders drop a little, his breath comes out long and hard. Then, “You said you were a journalism student.”
Ah, fuck.
“So I guess you were recording us for, what, a tell-all article?”
I don’t say anything. Clamp my mouth shut.
He shakes his head. “How much would they have paid you, huh?”
I inhale deeply, trying to catch my breath and stop shaking. “It would have been enough for everyone to get new clothes and school supplies for the fall and for a plumber to fix our downstairs toilet,” I tell him. “It’s been broken forever and even Pike can’t fix it.”
I’m not trying to guilt-trip him or anything, it’s just the truth. But even so, it reaches him.
He stares at me. It feels like eternity. I hate the way his eyes have changed, especially as the fire hardens to steel, to something forever cold.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him softly, my words breaking, because what else can I do? Inside I feel the big black pit of shame starting to pull at me, dragging me down under into its depths. To say I feel embarrassed is an understatement.
He doesn’t say anything. Just raises his hand to get the attention of a passing bus boy and asks for him to call him a cab.
There are tears burning behind my eyes, but I manage to keep them at bay. I get my purse and fish out my wallet. I know whatever money I have in there is for groceries for the week, but I won’t let him pay, not now. I’ll show him.
Suddenly his hand reaches out and grabs my wrist, holding me in place. “Keep it,” he says gruffly. “I know how much you need it.”
Then he brings a wad of cash out and throws it down on the table. “Come on,” he says to me as he gets up, pulling on his jacket. “Cab will be here soon.”
“I can get Pike to pick me up,” I tell him feebly, staring at his money on the table, wishing I had enough pride that I would still pay. But I’m not that proud. I have no pride, not anymore.
“You’re getting a cab.” He jerks his head toward the front doors. “Come on.”
I take in a shaking breath and get to my feet, walking behind him with my head down, afraid to look at the other tables. Though I’m sure our argument wasn’t heard or witnessed by anyone, I still feel like everyone is looking at me and pitying me.
There goes Maggie McPherson, they’d whisper to each other.
Poor thing.
White trash.
Such a shame what happened to her parents.
Now she’s in charge of all of them.
She can’t do it on her own.
That man is way too good for her.
Sugar daddy.
I think she’s a prostitute now.
How desperate she must be.
I follow Viktor out of the restaurant and into the night, the stars above us like tiny lanterns but I find no beauty in it. If only I could turn back time, we could have avoided all of that. We could have stepped out of here drunk and full and happy and maybe he’d say something romantic about the stars, or maybe he’d say something about sex and then we’d still get a cab but instead of standing apart like two strangers, maybe we’d be falling into each other. Smiling, laughing, touching, excited for the night to come.
If only I could turn back time, the two of us may have embarked on a very different future, maybe one that involved us together.
But I can’t turn back time. I wished with all my might that I could the night my parents died, and I wish it now, but it hasn’t worked, and it will never work.
I am stuck with this new reality.
I am stuck, period.
The cab pulls up and to my relief it’s not Earl White again, just some old guy.
Viktor strides over to the driver and hands him a wad of cash through the window and then, then he somehow still has his manners, and he opens the back door to me, gesturing for me to get inside.
“Get in. He’s taking you home. Or wherever thirty dollars will get you.”
Now this, this feels like a walk of shame. Deep shame. “I’m so sorry,” I tell him as I get in the backseat.
“Goodbye Maggie,” he says without even looking at me and then slams the door in my face.
That door slamming was like the closing of a prison door on every dream and hope and what ifs I had blooming inside me tonight.
Now that bloom has wilted, dead.
The cab drives off, the driver asking where he’s to take me.
But all I can do is just sit there.
Sit there and think about how royally things got fucked up.
I burst into tears and cry all the way home.
Chapter Ten
Viktor
Fuck.
It’s past midnight.
I’ve not been able to sleep for a second.
I’ve been tossing and turning in bed, then watching TV, then pacing up and down the room. I have a nest of hornets in my heart, buzzing around viciously, their barbs stinging the same wound over and over again.
She knows who I am.
Maggie, this girl of sweetness and light, was hiding a secret just as big as mine.
I was such an idiot to think she couldn’t see the truth. Of course, she knew the truth, had ulterior motives. Why else would she have come to my rescue like that at the bar? Did I really think it was from the goodness of her heart?
I feel like an idiot. I am an idiot.
I was so blinded by her beauty, her body, the way she looked at me, the way I wanted nothing more than to bury my head between her soft legs and make her cheeks go that rosy pink, that I didn’t even consider she could have had another motive.
Fuck.
Fuck.
I know I shouldn’t be so upset about this, that I should have seen it coming. But for a moment there…I wanted to talk about Alex. About how he died. I wanted to share with her parts of me I don’t share with anyone, not even Dr. Bonakov. I wanted to unload on her all the vile, bitter things that have been dragging me under into the raging darkness, this darkness that I know I can never escape.
Lilies.
And to think she knew exactly what I was talking about.
But that wasn’t for show.
That was the truth, her truth.
Her parents were murdered and the moment I found that out in the cab was the moment that I vowed to myself I would do everything I could to make her life better. If I was drawn to her before, after that I was affixed.
Bewitched.
All of that is gone now. That vow shattered like the scant bit of trust I had in her.
But perhaps I had more trust in this girl, this stranger, than I thought I did.
Maybe it’s why this hurts so much.
This betrayal feels bigger than it is because she was starting to mean more to me than she should. Like she had never been a stranger to begin with.
And maybe that’s why I can’t help but cringe when I think about the way her face fell, the open remorse and embarrassment and shame in her eyes when I found that recording. I’d never seen someone crumble like that right in front of me. Her hope and joy disintegrated in a second.
I was angry. Disappointed. I still am.
But I could have acted like more of a gentleman. I didn’t have to slam that cab door on her. I could have handled all of this with more grace and understanding. Always more, never less.
I’m nothing close to being the prince I need to be.
I sigh and sit down on the bed, head in my hands. I need to talk to someone, but I don’t have many people to talk to. I felt Maggie could have been–or was–that someone, but I was wrong. There’s always Freddie but he’s so clinical with the way he handles me. And my parents–forget it.