“So she hasn’t left yet?”

  “She should be at the airport,” Rachel grumbled. “Don’t make me regret telling you. Because if I find out you used this information and just hurt her more, I am going to make sure you’re sorry you did. And don’t think I’m bluffing. I don’t care if you are a prince.”

  “Thank you,” Nic breathed. “I’ll make sure she isn’t hurt, I promise.”

  And with that, he hung up, rushing back out to where Felix was waiting.

  “Airport,” Nic said sharply, even as his mind raced. “As fast as you can!”

  What the hell was he going to say to Summer? How could he change her mind and show her that he truly was sorry, and he wanted to prove through actions how much she and Harry meant to him?

  He wasn’t sure. But he had a good twenty minutes before they got to the airport. Hopefully, he’d be able to figure something out by then.

  20

  “I am so sorry, Your Highness,” the brunette woman behind the information counter said, looking flustered. “We’re not really supposed to give out information on passengers; it breaks confidentiality.”

  Nic was well aware that he was on the verge of causing a scene. He’d left Felix at the curb and rushed into the airport, suddenly struck with the fact that, while he knew Summer and Harry would be leaving, he didn’t know any specific details. And while he wasn’t wearing anything special—he was still in his old T-shirt and jeans—he was attracting a lot of attention as people started recognizing their Crown Prince in their midst. He could hear the escalating murmurs, see people pointing and staring, both surreptitiously and openly. A woman walked up to him, flanked by a teenage girl.

  “Hi! I’m from the U.S.,” she said, with a broad smile. “I’m sorry, are you Prince Nicolas? You are even hotter than online!”

  “Oh my God, Mom,” the teenager said, eyes wide. “You can’t just call a Crown Prince hot!”

  “Can I get your autograph? Or a selfie?” the mom pushed on, ignoring her.

  Nic sighed, looking over at the women scrambling behind the information counter. He quickly let the woman get a picture and nodded at the embarrassed teen. He was afraid that the crowd would get bolder, though, and he didn’t have a bodyguard or publicist or anyone to run interference for him. And right now, being swarmed by autograph hounds and selfie-seekers was the last thing he needed.

  “They’re headed to Los Angeles,” he said quickly to the information counter worker. Her coworker, a man in his twenties with flame red hair, seemed to pick up on his desperation.

  “We’ve got two flights going to Los Angeles, on two different airlines,” he said. “If you knew the time, maybe we could figure something out…?”

  “We really can’t,” the woman countered, looking concerned. “Unless it’s an emergency.”

  “What are their names, again?” the red-haired man asked.

  “Her name is Summer Rand,” Nic said, knowing he was blowing any sort of anonymity for her, but not caring at this point. He needed to connect with her before he lost her and Harry forever.

  “Let me see what I can do,” the man said, typing away on his computer, even as his coworker frowned.

  “Can’t you just call her?” the woman asked.

  Nic sighed. “I think she’s shut her phone off. She hasn’t answered.”

  The woman’s eyebrows furrowed, then she nodded. “Hold on,” she said, picking up the phone. Suddenly, her voice broadcast over the loudspeakers. “Summer Rand, please meet your party at the information counter, terminal A. Summer Rand? Please come to information counter, terminal A. Thank you.”

  She hung up, and Nic stared. That could work. Summer might still ignore it—she might put together that “her party” was Nic and want no part of whatever he had to say. But he still had to try.

  “Would it be all right if I used the announcement system?” he asked.

  The red-haired man goggled. “You’re the prince,” he said, as if that made it possible for Nic to do whatever he wanted. “Of course you can!”

  The woman nodded, hitting the button and handing Nic the receiver. Nic cleared his throat, feeling nerves punch him in the gut. Then he started talking, with no clear plan, but with emotions welling inside him like a volcano.

  “This is Nicolas Frederick Hansen, Crown Prince of the Isle of Mynia. Known as Nic to my friends,” he tacked on, because he was starting to feel pretentious. “I am making a brief, personal announcement. I have been, in short, a royal fool. Summer, if you’re listening—I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry for all the blunders I’ve made, and the way I’ve treated you. I know apologies aren’t enough after what I’ve done. I’ve disappointed you and Harry, and in the process, I’ve disappointed myself. I wasn’t aware of what I was doing, or why I was doing it, until you basically smacked some sense into me. Now, I’m not only seeing what I’ve avoided, I’m seeing what I will lose if I don’t get this together. I can’t keep living the way I have, and more to the point, I don’t want to. I want to share my life with you, if you’ll let me. I want to prove to you that I can, and will, make changes. It would mean the world to—”

  “Dude,” Summer said, interrupting him, obviously out of breath. Her cheeks were pink, and she’d obviously rushed over with Harry on her hip, a baby seat and roller bag in one hand. “You are killing me here. Get off the loudspeaker!”

  He quickly grinned, handing the handset to the counter worker. “You came,” he said, stating the obvious, cautiously letting hope bubble up in his chest.

  “And it was no small feat, let me tell you,” Summer pointed out. “Do you know how hard it is to power-walk across a terminal with a toddler and luggage? Hint: it’s really hard!”

  “I’m sorry,” he said. He immediately reached his hands out for Harry, taking him and balancing him on a hip as he took her roller bag. Harry babbled at him conversationally, and Nic smiled, kissing the boy on one chubby cheek.

  “Yeah, well, you said you wanted to talk, and I figured it’s better not to have this conversation in front of all the tourists and Mynians in the airport,” Summer muttered. “Really? You couldn’t have waited two minutes before jumping on the announcement system?”

  He looked. The crowd that had started to assemble when he first arrived had grown exponentially and now were taking photos and videos with their cell phones. The American mother was shouting encouragement as her daughter covered her face with her hands. He sighed.

  “Your Highness,” the red-haired counter worker said, “perhaps I can accompany you and your guests to a private VIP lounge? We have a waiting area for our private flights, that might be more conducive to a conversation without onlookers.”

  “That sounds perfect,” Nic said, looking at Summer. She nodded, taking Harry from Nic and shifting Harry on her hip. Nic took the luggage and car seat. “We’ll follow you.”

  Summer followed the man and Nic, Harry in tow. She couldn’t believe that Nic had made such a public announcement. He looked like the Nic that she remembered from their days together in L.A., with his hair mussed and wearing a soft, worn T-shirt and jeans. He looked amazing, even though she could see the exhaustion and sadness in his face. It just made her want to cuddle him and take care of him.

  No. Be strong. This is how you got into this mess in the first place. She tried to steel her heart against the sheer irresistibleness of Nic, but it was hard.

  Why, oh why, did he have to be the one her heart responded to?

  The airport worker locked the door behind him, leaving them in privacy. She put Harry down and gave him a toy car, where he quickly became entranced with running it over their luggage. “So what did you want to say, Nic?”

  Nic took a deep breath, looking like a man who was getting ready to jump out of an airplane. “I love you, Summer. You and Harry both.”

  Her eyes widened, even as she felt her resolve starting to crumble. “I love you, too,” she admitted. “But that’s not enough. You can’t love us and treat us like a last priority, Nic. That’s not how it works.”

  Nic took her hand in his, cupping her face with his other hand and stroking her cheek. “I have come to learn that I have been making some poor choices, thinking they were the only choices I had.”

  She frowned, not comprehending.

  “I never told you how my brother died.”

  She studied him, quietly, watching as sorrow glowed softly in his blue eyes.

  “Tom died, at eighteen, after a long battle with Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy.”

  She gasped. The boys that got Duchenne MD rarely made it to adulthood, and whatever years he’d survived had to have been an ongoing and worsening struggle. For Nic to be close to his brother, to watch that… “That must have been very hard.”

  “I loved my brother so much,” Nic admitted. “The worst part about it wasn’t the physical effects of the disease, although they were bad enough. It was the fact that he was so brilliant, and so loving, and could have had such an amazing future. He wanted to be a doctor, from the time he was a five-year-old, it seemed. It was his obsession.”

  Not yours, Summer quickly realized.

  “I told him, just before he died, that I’d be a doctor for him,” Nic said, releasing her face and brushing at the tears that clung to his thick, coal-black lashes. “I chose to be a pediatrician because it’d be helping kids like Tom. I wasn’t going to let anything happen to anyone else, ever again.”

  She swallowed hard as her own sorrow moved forward, more bittersweet and accepting. “I never wanted to lose my parents,” she said softly. “But I couldn’t stop it, and it wasn’t my fault. Losing Tom wasn’t your fault. And you’re not going to be able to save the whole world, Nic.”

  “I’m learning that. Now.” He sighed. “I’m stepping down as Head of Pediatrics and giving up medicine.”

  Summer felt an icy slap of surprise. “What? Are you sure? You’re… you’re an amazing doctor!”

  “I’ve been pushing too hard, for too long,” he said. “It was my mania, not my dream. I can help more people in my role as the Crown Prince—making sure that it’s easier for our subjects to get health care, making sure that children have better resources as they grow, not just medicine but schools and food, and even foster care, if need be.”

  Summer melted. Foster care. He’d listened to her—recognized how important that was. He was still pursuing the care of children, like he’d wanted to when Tom died. He was just obviously fitting into a better role to do that, one that wasn’t so painful, or fraught with the immediacy of life-and-death and personal trauma.

  Then Nic smiled.

  “The good thing about just being a Crown Prince,” he said, his voice gentle, “is that it will give me a lot more time to spend with my family.” He looked fondly at Harry, who was now gripping his leg, giving him a broad, sunshiny smile. Then he turned his attention back to Summer.

  She smiled slowly, as love and hope slowly radiated through her. She made one last ditch effort to keep a shield up. “I’m going to hold you to this, Nic,” she said. “I’m not going to get my heart broken again. And I’m not going to let you push Harry and me away.”

  “I’m going to do everything I can to keep you close, and to show you just how much you’re loved,” he said, kissing her jawline, stroking her hair. “And Harry is never going to feel slighted or alone. He’s had you. Now, he’s going to see just how much his father loves him—and how much I love his Mom.”

  Summer closed her eyes, resting her forehead against Nic’s chest. It was what she’d always wanted… exactly what she’d always wanted. It was waiting there for her. All she had to do was trust it—and reach out for it.

  “All right,” she said softly, then tilted her head up, looking into Nic’s eyes. “I believe you.”

  Nic’s eyes gleamed with happiness. “So can we go home now?”

  She nodded.

  “Absolutely,” she said. “Let’s go home.”

  21

  Summer felt emotionally wrung out when they finally arrived at Nic’s house. She’d called Rachel to let her know the change of plans, while Nic had called his parents and let him know that they’d created something of a scene. Apparently, they already knew: the royal head of communications was having apoplexy because #MyniaMysteryWoman was trending on Twitter. Nic looked at her.

  “Odds say they know who you and Harry are within the hour,” he pointed out. “We’re going to need to put out some kind of statement.”

  “Tomorrow,” she promised, feeling like a wrung-out towel.

  It wasn’t lunchtime yet, but she’d barely eaten anything that morning, and Harry had been too distracted to have a real breakfast. Nic solved the problem by ordering pizza, even though it was still technically morning. They wound up nibbling on pizza and various delicious snacks the chef had left. Harry had played, but mostly they’d spent the day lazing on Nic’s super-comfortable couches, watching either “that British pig cartoon” or “the yellow thing with the pants.” She got the feeling Nic would get caught up on children’s programming quickly, even as she laughed at his descriptions of Harry’s favorite cartoons. Nic seemed tired, but happy, which was a big change from his usual demeanor of stressed exhaustion. The three of them lazed around until evening, then as Harry started to fall asleep—he skipped his nap—they decamped to Nic’s room, all falling asleep on the big bed.

  Several hours later, Summer woke, feeling disoriented. It was dark. She reached over tentatively and found Nic’s side of the bed empty.

  A stab of betrayal hit her.

  Tell me this man is not working right now.

  She wanted to growl. Had Nic actually gotten up and headed to his office? Was he working on policy? Or, worse, despite what he’d said, had he retreated to some emergency at the hospital? Yes, sometimes there would be emergencies, but there was also an entire hospital staff and a work schedule—Nic wasn’t the only doctor on the island!

  He couldn’t possibly have fallen back into his workaholic habits this soon. Could he?

  Damn it. Had she trusted him too soon? He’d said all the right things. Had he meant them?

  She kept smoothing her hand over the bed, then abruptly realized: Harry wasn’t there, either.

  Panic hit her, and she quickly flipped on the bedside light. Neither Nic nor Harry was in the bed. She hopped out of bed, trying to get her bearings, trying to figure out where they could have gone.

  She heard a noise, a low humming sound, then saw that there was the low glow of a nightlight coming from Harry’s room. She padded down the hallway in her bare feet. Harry’s bedroom door was mostly closed, so she pushed the door open quietly, standing in the doorframe, taking in the sight in front of her.

  Nic was sitting in a rocking chair, Harry nuzzled against his broad chest. He had his eyes closed, as did Harry, and he was rocking him. Harry was making little sleepy noises, his fist bunching in Nic’s T-shirt. Nic was smiling a sleepy smile as he stroked his son’s back in soothing circles.

  It took her a second, but she realized that she recognized the lullaby Nic was singing—an old, classic song, “Save the Last Dance.” She smiled and felt emotion welling up in her as he sang the love song in a surprisingly steady baritone.

  She joined in on the chorus, and his eyes snapped open. He looked a little embarrassed, but also grinned as they finished the song together. Then he put Harry in his bed, tucking him in, and kissing him on the head. She did the same, and the two of them walked out hand in hand, heading back towards Nic’s bedroom.

  “I didn’t even know you sang,” she teased gently. Nic shot her a rueful smirk.

  “I don’t, if I can help it. That’s Erik’s thing,” he joked. “But I’d forgotten… my parents used to sing that to my brother and me when we were really little. Then they’d go in the hallway and dance, even though there wasn’t any other music. My father would hum to her, and they’d just sort of sway. I mean, I didn’t appreciate it as a kid, but looking back, it was really sweet.”

  “That’s one of the sweetest things I’ve ever heard.”

  He turned, tugging her to a stop. Then he wrapped his arms around her and started humming. They rocked gently, a simple two-step. Then he brushed his lips over hers, softly, a promise of kisses to come. “I love you, Summer,” he breathed against her mouth.

  “I love you, too,” she replied.

  They swayed for a minute, then she kissed him a bit more seriously, leading him back to the bedroom. They took off their clothes, climbing into his sumptuous bed and clinging to each other. He wrapped his arm around her, kissing her forehead, her temple. Summer shivered, although cold was the furthest thing from what she was feeling. “Do you remember that night, the first night we got together?” she asked. “That night we saved that kid’s life?”

  He nodded. “How could I forget?” he said. “It was one of the most important nights of my life. I found you. And ultimately, you saved two lives that night—his, and mine.”

  She felt her cheeks heat with embarrassed pleasure. “Can you really walk away from being a doctor, Nic?”

  He sighed, cuddling her closer. “It’s not going to be easy,” he admitted. “But once I saw what I was doing—that it wasn’t for me, that I’d made this desperate decision to try to honor my brother—it was easier. I’ll mourn Tom every day. He was my brother, and I love him. But he wouldn’t want me to sacrifice my future and my happiness just to do something that would ultimately break me. And I think that in the long run, I would run into a patient I couldn’t save. And I don’t know how I would have responded.”

  She hugged him tight against her, her heart beating fiercely.

  “I’ll probably still be a bit of a workaholic,” he admitted. “Type A personality. My parents said I’ve always been like that. But I am going to draw firmer boundaries. You and Harry are my first priority. I want to make sure you feel that, that you know that, every day.”