“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.

  19

  Nic slept fitfully in his childhood bedroom at the palace, determined to give Summer and Harry space after his decision the previous night. He didn’t doubt that she’d follow through with her threat—that she’d leave, taking Harry with her. And he couldn’t blame her. She deserved more than he had given them. She deserved the love and attention of a man who could put her and Harry first and foremost, above everything else.

  It was early morning, and after tossing and turning, he finally admitted that he wouldn’t be able to get any more sleep. He showered, then got dressed in some clothes he’d left here, a pair of jeans and a T-shirt from the L.A. hospital where he and Summer had spent their residency. It was salt in his wound, but he still reached for the faded soft cotton shirt. It was like punishment he deserved.

  He wandered down the hallway, unwilling to face his parents, and equally unable to go back home and feel the empty hole left by Summer and Harry’s absence. He found himself going deeper into the residence, to a portion of the palace he rarely returned to. He opened the long-disused-but-never-forgotten door.

  Tom’s bedroom.

  They’d removed the hospital bed that used to dominate the room, replacing it with a simple full bed that he couldn’t remember Tom using. Other than that, though, it was similar to Nic’s room—it hadn’t changed at all. The walls were a soft gold, reminiscent of sunshine, the curtains and comforter as blood-scarlet as Mynia’s flag, shot through with more gold. On an entertainment center with a large TV, there were old video game consoles, showing no signs of dust… the cleaning staff was still doing their job, keeping the relics of his brother’s life as spotless as when he’d been there.

  I’m going to be a doctor, Nicky.

  Nic forced himself to look at the books on the bookshelf. There was plenty of fiction—mostly sci-fi and fantasy, Tom’s favorite genres—but there were also lots of scientific textbooks. Pre-med. Tom had looked into getting into school sooner, but his body had rebelled, despite the brilliance of his mind. Nic had taken pre-med classes specifically to share with his brother, even though the double-major with international relations had been a tough challenge.

  I promise you, Tom, I’ll be the doctor you wanted to be.

  He could still remember Tom’s single tear in response to that promise. By that point, Tom couldn’t speak. He’d died too soon after.

  Nic sat at the edge of the bed, rubbing his hands over his face. He didn’t know how to keep doing this. He just knew he couldn’t stop.

  “I wasn’t sure where to find you,” his father said, framed in Tom’s doorway, looking concerned. “I’d heard you might have had a bit of a disagreement with Summer. Is everything all right?”

  Nic grimaced, hanging his head. “She’s leaving.”

  “She’s leaving?” his father echoed. “Does that mean she’s taking Harry with her? What in the world happened?”

  Nic winced, every muscle tensing. “I blew it,” he said after a long pause. When his father stayed expectantly quiet, Nic huffed out an exasperated breath. “I should’ve known I couldn’t make it work.”

  “Why would you say that?”

  “I can’t give them what they need!” Nic exploded, then winced. He was upset, but his father didn’t need him lashing out. “They deserve more. More attention. More time than I can devote to them.”

  “Then you need to make time,” his father said somberly.

  “I can’t even handle what I’ve got going on now.” He rubbed at the knot at the base of his skull. “When I’m not at the hospital, I’m doing policy work. There are fundraisers and galas and public appearances. There’s…” He swallowed, then finally spat out the words he’d been dreading. “There’s too much on my plate. Summer deserves more than a husband who falls asleep at his desk. Harry deserves a better father than one who barely makes it through playtime without getting called away to a meeting or a patient emergency.”

  There was more, an underlying fear. But Nic couldn’t voice that. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

  His father sighed, then sat next to him on the bed. “Son, I love you more than you will ever know,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “So this is said with love. What you’ve just said?”

  Nic nodded.

  “Is horseshit.”

  Nic jolted like he’d been shocked. “What?”

  “I’ve devoted most of my adult life to Mynia,” he continued. “I know how important it is. But I would walk away from the throne in a second for your mother and for you. I hope you never felt like I would do otherwise. Family comes first.”

  “I’m doing this for family,” Nic rasped. “I’ve known how important being Crown Prince is! Since I was a kid, I’ve been getting ready for it. We’ve got an entire country to take care of. I’m proud of what I’ve been able to do to help them. To help you.”

  His father put a hand on his arm, his expression gentle and understanding. “And what about being a doctor, Nic?”

  Nic fell silent.

  “You were always a highly intelligent young man,” his father continued. “It threw your mother and I when you decided to pursue medicine, but we have always supported you, and neither of us were surprised when you were so good at it. That said, I will admit I have been worried, watching you spread yourself so thin. You can’t keep this up. No one could.”

  Nic felt the truth of those words deep in his chest. He gritted his teeth. “I made a promise,” he whispered. “Tom… always wanted to be a doctor.”

  “Yes.” His father’s voice bobbled for a second, then steadied. “That was his dream. You can’t live his life for him. You can’t sacrifice your happiness just because you survived.”

  Nic felt tears stinging at his eyes, burning like acid. “It’s not just that,” he said, although he felt oddly vulnerable at having his private fear, his private grief, revealed. “I’m a good doctor. What would we have done if doctors hadn’t been there for Tom?”

  His father took a deep breath. “Did doctors save Tom’s life?”

  Nic blinked like he’d been slapped.

  “No. They did the best they could, and I thank them for every day that they helped Tom live,” he said, and Nic noticed that his eyes were damp. “They gave him more years than he would have had otherwise, but they couldn’t stop it. And you can’t save every sick child out there, no matter how hard you work. Tom wouldn’t want you to kill yourself, or to give up having happiness and a family, because you lived and he didn’t.”

  Nic couldn’t help it. The words unlocked something in him, some deep-seated grief. Like a dam breaking, he found himself crying, in a way he realized he’d never let himself. Even when Tom died, he’d kept this bottled up, and now it was releasing itself in a storm of sorrow.

  “You are good at being a doctor, and if you want to keep pursuing it, you obviously can,” his father said, once the worst of the emotional wave had subsided. “And obviously you’re a damned fine policymaker, and I’d love to have you take my place as king when the time comes… but you don’t have to. We can figure out a way around it. What would make you happy?”

  Nic took a deep breath, embarrassed that it was shaky. “I’ll… need to think about it. But first and foremost, I need to figure out how to get Summer and Harry back.”

  “Well, telling her you love her would probably be a good place to start,” his father rumbled, then his eyes widened. “You do love her, don’t you, son?”

  Nic tilted his head. He wanted her, without question. Thinking of Summer’s downy-soft skin, the gasps of pleasure she’d give, the way she’d arch her back against him… and the amazing, loving warmth of their afterglow. The sex was off the charts.

  But the affection between the two of them was just as addictive, like nothing he’d ever experienced before. He thought of Summer herself, and the way the sunlight hit her gold-bright hair, her peal of laughter. Her amazing competence, both as a doctor and a mother. The late-night conversations they’d had in the kitchen, snacking on food before collapsing into bed. He enjoyed her company, her personality. He felt better around her.

  He felt like a better person when he was with her. And he wanted to be with her all the time.

  “Yes,” Nic finally said slowly. “I do love her.”

  “And Harry?” his father prompted.

  Nic swallowed hard. “I love him, too. But… I get scared. He’s so small. So many things could go wrong,” Nic admitted, looking at the mementos of his dead brother’s life. “What if I lose him? It makes me crazy to even think about it. How did you bear it?”

  “You can’t protect yourself from pain or loss. At the same time, you can’t fixate on it, not if you want to have any kind of a life. I mourn your brother, in my own way, every day.” He wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. “But I wouldn’t trade one day that I had with him, not even if it meant I wouldn’t hurt. Not one single day.”

  Nic let himself be comforted by his father’s words. They probably should have had this conversation a long time ago. But the important part was, he heard them now. It felt like he’d been cleansed, and was emerging, shaky but determined.

  He stood up. “I have to find Summer. I need to talk to her.”

  “Go get her,” his father said. “And remember—I’m here to talk to you whenever you need me.”

  Nic hugged him, then rushed out of the palace, heading for his home. When he got there, Summer and Harry were already gone, as was their luggage. She’d talked about leaving the country entirely. A few calls to her cell went straight to voicemail—she was obviously avoiding him.

  Where would she go? He had placed that trust for Harry’s care, so he wasn’t worried about them living on the street or anything. She could theoretically go anywhere, any country she wanted. Hell, she might’ve even taken a private jet and left already. How would he find them?

  His brain worked frantically for a moment, then he realized who Summer would talk to, since she didn’t have any family left. He bolted to his office and opened up his laptop, finding the Skype address that Summer had used to call Rachel.

  “Please pick up, please pick up,” he muttered.

  Rachel answered, then narrowed her eyes at him. Obviously, she’d been expecting Summer, since it was signed into her account. “You’ve got some nerve.”

  “Rachel, please, I screwed up badly,” Nic said, hoping she wouldn’t hang up on him. “I want to make this right. I don’t want to lose her and Harry. Can you tell me where they are?”

  “I’m on Summer’s side,” Rachel said coldly. “Not yours.”

  “I’m on Summer’s side, too,” he countered. “I love her, Rachel. She doesn’t even know that. I don’t want her to go away not knowing how much she and Harry mean to me.”

  Rachel’s eyes widened. “Yeah, this is definitely a conversation you should be having with her, not me.”

  “Do you know where she is?”

  Rachel sighed, then rubbed at her temples. “She’s going to be coming to see me, here in L.A. I told her she could crash here.”