The Billionaire Prince’s Surprise Son by Leslie North
18
Summer hurried home—not home, Nic’s house, she chastised herself—and found Alma reading a book on the couch. “Is everything all right?” Alma asked quickly, taking in Summer’s rushed demeanor and obvious upset.
“Everything’s fine,” Summer said, grateful that her voice stayed even. “I just… I wasn’t feeling well, and I thought I’d get back. Thanks for watching Harry.”
“He went to bed like an angel after his story,” Alma said, with a smile. “See you tomorrow, usual time, then?”
Summer froze. “Actually… I’m not going to be at work tomorrow. I’ll be with Harry.”
Probably headed back to the U.S., with any luck.
Alma nodded, obviously not picking up on her harried thoughts. She pulled her purse onto her shoulder. “All right. Just let me know when you want me back, and I’ll be here. Good night!”
“Good night,” Summer echoed, then waited for the door to shut behind Alma before quickly tearing off her heels and dashing up the stairs in her stockings, her long skirts hiked up. She peeked in on Harry’s sleeping form, then headed down the hallway. Over the past month or so, she’d slowly migrated her clothes from the spare bedroom to Nic’s master suite. Now, she grabbed her suitcase out of the closet and tugged it to Nic’s room, heading for the closet. She stripped out of her finery, replacing it with a worn pair of jeans and a T-shirt, and a pair of canvas sneakers. She didn’t really have that much, and she wasn’t planning on taking any of the clothes Nic had purchased for her since they’d gotten there. She supposed it could be seen as petty, but she didn’t want anything that he’d gifted her—nothing that would remind her of him, and of her time here.
Besides… when was she going to need not just one, but two formal ball gowns? Really.
She was packing quickly, or at least as quickly as she could with shaking hands. Part of her rush was because she was intent on leaving Nic behind, and she needed to do it now. But after all this, did she really think he’d scurry after her, apologizing, trying to somehow fix things? And if he followed after her, yet again, would she listen? When, at best, he would give her more excuses, more reasons to have hope, and more reasons to feel disappointed and crushed when he failed yet again to follow through?
Or, even worse… what if he didn’t follow after her at all? Bad enough that she’d seen him fail at keeping promises. At least she had the comfort of his intentions, his words of caring and attention. What if she were slapped with tangible evidence that, at this point, he wasn’t even bothering with comforting lies anymore?
The tears stung in her eyes then tumbled down her cheeks, no doubt ruining her fancy makeup. She knuckled the tears away as she packed her clothes more and more haphazardly. She wasn’t even sure how she was going to get the damned thing zipped at this point.
When her phone vibrated in the small evening purse, she startled, then swallowed, trying to keep the tears she’d been crying out of her voice. She didn’t recognize the number, but she knew it was Mynian. Was it Nic, maybe calling from the palace? “H-hello?”
Damn it.She couldn’t even keep it together for a few minutes?
“Summer.” A woman’s voice. Summer realized she recognized it: the queen. “My dear, are you all right?”
Summer blinked. She’d assumed that Isabella would take Nic’s side. At the very least, she didn’t expect her to call. “What do you mean?”
“Erik and Ben filled me in on some things that happened tonight. Or at least, they tried.” Isabella sounded tentative. “It sounded like you and Nic are having some difficulties?”
Difficulties. That was one way of putting it.
“Nic and I are not going to work out,” Summer said bluntly. “We’ve been having some trouble, but tonight… I can’t stay here. I can’t keep Harry here.”
There was a long pause on the other side of the line. Summer brushed more tears away. She saw herself in a nearby mirror, her makeup a ghoulish mess of running eyeliner and smeared shadow.
“I’m so sorry to hear that.” To her credit, the queen genuinely sounded sorry. Summer ought to know: she’d heard enough people say they were sorry in her life. “Are you sure there isn’t anything you can do—no, not that I mean you by yourself,” she quickly amended, “but… isn’t there some way to resolve this? One that means you and Harry stay?”
Summer sniffled, not even caring at this point what she sounded like. She wasn’t fooling anyone: this wasn’t okay, and she was breaking down. “Nic has to show he cares about us. We can’t keep coming in last place to his work. I know how important being a doctor is—more than anyone who isn’t a doctor, quite frankly—and I can only imagine how important being a prince is. But I can’t let Harry feel like an afterthought, and I’m not having him feel inadequate or unwanted by living here. I just won’t do it.”
“I just don’t…” Isabella sounded lost. “We didn’t raise Nic like that. We always made sure that he knew how wanted he was, how important. I can’t understand what’s going on.”
“Me, neither,” Summer responded. “If that’s all, I need to get packed up.”
“When are you leaving?”
“As soon as possible.”
Another pause. “Can you tell me where you’re going?”
Summer cleared her throat. “I will contact Nic when I settle in,” she hedged.
“I wish you wouldn’t go.” Now Isabella’s voice sounded scratchy and edged in tears. “We love Harry so very much. And we love you, too.”
“You don’t have to say that,” Summer said quickly.
“I know I don’t, but Frederick and I adore the two of you. You are a part of our family, no matter where you go.” A tiny, sad sigh came from the cell phone. “If you need anything, absolutely anything, or if you ever want to return, please contact us.”
“I… Thank you. I have to go,” she repeated. Then she hung up, letting out a low sob. It was too much. She broke down, crying for a few minutes. Then she turned to the bathroom, cleaning her face. Her eyes were reddened and puffy with tears, but she’d manage. She packed up Harry’s belongings and the rest of her clothes. She brought the luggage out to the curb and called a taxi service. Then she went back upstairs to Harry’s room.
“C’mon, Harry-bear,” she whispered, trying to get the sleeping child to cooperate. He whined, not wanting to move. “We gotta go.”
“Nooooo,” he muttered, wriggling. Unfortunately, he was a lot like her: he might have trouble getting to sleep, but once he was asleep, he did not want to wake up.
She finally carried him, like a sack of potatoes, out to the front of the house, locking the door behind her. The taxi driver was there, putting her luggage into the back and setting up her car seat. She settled Harry in, then gave the driver the name of one of the island’s hotels. She watched Nic’s house disappear as the taxi drove down the street and away.
Twenty minutes later, she had gotten Harry settled into the hotel bed, snoozing away. Then she brought her laptop into the hotel bathroom to Skype Rachel.
“Hey, you.” Rachel’s hair was pulled up in a loose ponytail. “You’re lucky I’m off today. I just got back from the grocery store, and I have—wait for it—a date tonight! Maybe you can help me pick out a date outfit… whoa, wait a second.”
Summer hiccupped softly. She’d managed to keep it together while she’d checked into the hotel, although she’d sensed the check-in clerk’s subtle curiosity and compassion in her expression. Once she’d gotten Harry back down, she’d given in to another ten minutes of crying. Now, she felt like she was barely holding it together.
“What happened?” Rachel demanded. “Are you all right? Tell me what’s wrong!”
“It’s… I…” Summer grabbed a tissue, wiping her nose. “I broke up with Nic tonight.”
“Oh, crap.” Rachel leaned on her knuckles, propping up her face. “I know you’d seemed a little on edge, but I didn’t know it was that bad. Tell me everything.”
Slowly, Summer told Rachel the issues she’d been struggling with. Nic’s work, Nic’s deliberate avoidance of Harry. His hot/cold responses to her and to Harry. “I don’t know what he wants, but from the way he acts, I know that no matter how much he’s supposed to ‘care’ for us, he’s going to always put something else first. And I just can’t stand it. I know it feels selfish, considering what he’s responsible for. And maybe it’s unreasonable to want to be loved for who I am, and be in a relationship where a man loves me and his child first and foremost…”
“It is not unreasonable,” Rachel said fiercely.
“Well, reasonable or not, it’s what I want. Since my parents….” Summer sighed. “And the thing is… I felt that way about Nic.”
“Oh, sweetie.” Rachel’s expression was melancholic.
“I don’t trust people easily, and he just sort of weaseled his way into my heart. It doesn’t have to do with him being a prince. It doesn’t even have to do with him being this amazing doctor—though lord knows, he is.”
“He’s good, yes.” Rachel didn’t sound impressed, though.
Summer goggled, momentarily caught off track. “Are you kidding? He’s brilliant. Whatever other issues I have with the man, I’m not going to say he’s anything less than a genius.”
“He’s smart, that’s obvious,” Rachel noted. “But it’s a compulsion. Haven’t you noticed? He’s never gotten a diagnosis wrong once. But when you see him, he’s not being smarmy or smug about it. He might be amped up about it for a while, especially for big operations, but for our usual diagnosis, it’s more like relief. He can’t get it wrong. It’s a driving need.” She shook her head. “I wouldn’t want to be around when he finally loses a patient.”
Summer frowned, her mind rolling over Rachel’s words. Was Nic compulsively driven in his pursuit of medicine?
If so, why?
“You have to be able to accept death to do what we do, Summer,” Rachel added. “Sometimes you do all you can, and it’s still not enough. We’re doctors. Not gods.”
Summer hadn’t thought about it quite that way.
“Well, enough about a man who doesn’t exist again,” Rachel said, causing Summer to let out a watery laugh. “What’s your next step? Where are you calling me from?”
“I’m at a hotel. After our blow out, I just couldn’t face him, so I went back to his house, packed up our stuff, and left.” Summer glanced around. It was a hotel room like any thousands of others on the planet—nothing like Nic’s house, and certainly nothing like the palace. She wondered if she’d miss the luxury, then immediately dispelled the thought. She’d spent most of her life in simple circumstances… in some downright poor circumstances, like when she’d first aged out of the system, and when she’d gotten her first apartments. She didn’t need the fancy amenities.
But God, would she miss the people.
“Anyway,” Summer forced herself to keep talking, “I’m going to check flights after I hang up with you. You still have a pull-out couch I can crash on? Harry doesn’t take up much room, although he can be kind of noisy.”
“I’ve told you before: I always have room for you and the Harry-bear. Any time you need it.” Rachel’s tone of voice was clear and sure, and Summer felt better—like a long-distance hug. “Send me a text when you’ve got the flight details, okay? I’ll even go to the airport and pick you up.”
“Wow. You must love me.”
“Sister from another mister,” Rachel said, with a laugh. “Okay. Now help me pick out a date outfit? This guy’s hot.”
Summer knew that Rachel was just trying to get her mind off of Nic. They stayed on Skype for another twenty minutes. When they’d finally decided on the right “sexy but making him work for it” outfit, Summer yawned.
“Get some sleep,” Rachel admonished. “I’ll see you soon.”
Summer nodded. “Love you.”
“Love you too, sweetie.” With that, Rachel hung up, and Summer shut her laptop. Too tired to look for flights she got ready for bed, climbing next to Harry’s sprawled form. She’d retreat to Rachel’s, she told herself, then come up with a plan for Harry and for herself.
And hope like hell that someday, she’d get over Nic.
