Page 22 of Fallen Crown

“Here, here,” Ava says, lifting her teacup in a mock salute.

I have a suspicion she laced her tea with bourbon.

“Enzo is a complete and utter shit,” Ava says. “But Sawyer is right. She’s still married to him.”

“Easy to fix,” my mother says. “He fled the country. Been gone for a few months now. No sign of a return. Cut him loose. Move on.”

I’m so tempted to ask her why she never cut Dad loose in the same cavalier fashion. Calling out my terrible marriage doesn’t shield her from her own. The first time I realized my father frequently cheated on my mother, I was appalled. Abandonment is one thing, but cheating to me then, and maybe even now, seems so much worse. What’s the injustice scale in a relationship?

It’s not as though I don’t know why my mother has stayed. Sawyer asked her once, and she said she’d rather be with my father than be alone. For a long time, marriage was a philosophy I couldn’t stand, which might have been why everyone was so shocked when I agreed to tie myself to Enzo. When I was younger, I equated marriage to misery.

But I was certain Enzo would never be Dad. And he hasn’t been, but he isn’t better than Dad either. For all my diatribes on my father’s wandering eye, when my mother has needed him, when one of us kids has needed him, he’s dropped everything to be there. He’s selfish and selfless in a weird combination that makes it hard to hate him. In trying to escape one fate, I created another with Enzo, which might be far worse.

“I’m not cutting him loose,” I say. Though part of me wonders what I’m holding on to. It doesn’t feel like Enzo is holding on at all anymore. It’s me, in the middle of an ocean, clinging to the life raft of our marriage, hoping Enzo will materialize beside me.

“Futile,” my mother says. “Any man who books a plane ticket off the island rather than weathering a storm is no man at all.”

“That’s very gendered,” Ava says. “Any partner.”

My mother ignores Ava and sips her tea while staring at me. Whatever she’s expecting me to say, I’ve got nothing. Defending Enzo is pointless because I’m also angry with him, which makes it hard to figure out whether there’s still anything positive between us. Most of the time, I’m happiest when I’m not thinking about him at all.

Then something Ava said clicks into place. “When did you say you heard about the lawyer getting involved with the former king, Ava?”

“Last night at Wino Wine Bar,” my mother answers for her. “King Alexander and the Advisory Council just finished hammering out the language of the law yesterday. Must be trying to rush through George’s paperwork.”

My heart sinks. Brice would have known when he showed up to bike last night that his father’s days were even fewer than he’d realized. If there’s one thing I understand, can relate to on a deep level, it’s grief. Crushing, drag-me-under grief. The reminder makes the emotion sweep over me again, the tide rushing in, but thankfully with my meds, the sensation no longer knocks me off my feet.

My phone chimes in my purse, and I dig it out. There’s a text from Wren saying that Brice is begging off practice tonight. I stare at the screen while my mother and sisters chat around me. Without giving myself time to think it through, I text Wren back and drop my phone into my purse.

“I need to go,” I say, rising to my feet. “We have practice in an hour.”

“Your ankle.” Sawyer nods toward my foot.

“Will be just fine.” I hitch my purse onto my shoulder. “We’re running hills tonight, but I’m just working the stopwatch. No need to panic. I heard you the other day. I need to rest it.” My bike ride up Mount Juniper will remain my secret.

“You’re not overtraining again, are you?” My mother scans me with a worried frown. “You’ve never quite regained the weight you lost when Enzo left.”

“I’m off,” I say. “The tea was hot. The company was good. Until next time.” I wave to them all before I make a beeline for the front door. As I’m leaving, Nathaniel is arriving, and he breaks his stride to take in my appearance.

“You all right?” he asks. Between Gage, my youngest brother, and Nathaniel, my oldest, there’s no question who is the most sensitive. Nathaniel can spot a chink in someone’s emotional armor at one hundred paces. Gage couldn’t spot the dent an inch from his face.

“Did you know that the law for the assisted dying was firm now?” While I knew this was coming based on the referendum result, the legalization feels quick, even though it’s taken them months to lay out the parameters.

“Yeah, I heard.” Nathaniel’s blue-green eyes soften. “I didn’t think you’d be so thrown by it.”

“Not thrown,” I say. “Just... Surprised. One of those things that was slow and then quick.” A chill runs through me, and I rub my arms. If that’s how I feel as an outsider, I can’t imagine how Brice must feel. He probably has lots of people around to support him if the tabloids have even a grain of truth to them, but I can’t ignore what may be happening in his life. Anyone else on my team would rate a visit, and while some of my negative feelings about Brice’s breezy lifestyle might seep into training, there’s no room for that today.

“The Summersets must be spinning,” Nathaniel says. “Can’t even imagine.” He rubs his palm across his forehead. “Is Dad around?”

“Haven’t seen him,” I say as I back away toward my waiting SUV. “Did you text him?”

“Ignored me,” Nathaniel says. “You going to train?”

“Coach,” I say because I know how much he worries about me. Maybe even more than Sawyer. “A quick stop first.”

“Tell Brice...” Nathaniel gives me a helpless look. “There really aren’t any good words, are there?”

I shake my head and squeeze the straps of my purse. Of course Nathaniel would understand where I’d be going based on my question. He understands how much racing and my teammates mean to me, and Brice is now included in that bubble, even if I didn’t want him there in the first place.