Chapter 6: Lisabet

The hotel that the Oxlandian Royal Family has put us up in for the night is exquisite. They’ve even given us individuals rooms, which is definitely a luxury we aren’t used to as a traveling orchestra. I’m almost too afraid to sit on the bedsheets because they’re leagues above what I’m used to. There are even tiny chocolates on the pillow and complimentary bottles of champagne for each of us in the room’s minibar. The last time I even had time to drink a glass was the night of my wedding with—

I don’t want to think about him.

It’s an understatement to say that I’m in a weird headspace right now. I’m still reeling from my meeting with Prince Miles. After I left, I had to pinch myself several times to make sure that I wasn’t, in fact, dreaming.

You’ve been on my mind since New York.

His words echo around in my head and sends goose bumps running across my arms.

I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been thinking about him either. The low, yet gentle tone of his voice like the strings of my cello. The focus in his eyes. The confidence that practically radiates from him like he’s the sun. His presence is overwhelming, like standing next to a star knowing full well I’ll never measure up.

And I said no.

I can’t believe I had enough audacity to tell him that. I cringe at the memory of Prince Miles’ disappointed expression. I don’t like that I’ve upset him, but I’m sure he’ll get over it. The mixer was proof that he has a long line of women practically tripping over their feet to be with him.

Three knocks sound at my door.

“Hey, Lisabet!” Larry calls from the hallway. “A bunch of us are heading down to the restaurant. You coming?”

I hurry over and open the door, finding Larry, Damian, and Beatrice huddled together with excitement lighting up their eyes.

“Isn’t it a little early for dinner?” I ask.

Beatrice grins. “There’s a huge seafood buffet downstairs,” she explains.

“I’m going to devour the lobster tails,” Damian says. “And then the shrimp cocktails. My mouth’s watering so bad.”

“Ew, you’re totally drooling,” Beatrice gasps, taking a cautionary step away.

“What do you say?” Larry asks. “Want to come with us?”

I shift uncomfortably from foot to foot. “I don’t know. We were only given so much for food. And I—”

I’ve got so many bills to pay that I can’t even begin to think about food.

“The Oxlandian Royal Family’s already covered the bill,” Larry explains quickly.

My eyes widen. “Really?”

“They’re so generous,” Beatrice sighs dreamily. “Come on, Lisabet. Let’s live it up a little.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I—”

Damian and Larry hook their arms in mine and guide me down the hall, the three of them laughing merrily as we make our way downstairs.

I know it’s silly, but I’m uncomfortable being surrounded by all this…wealth. Crystal glasses full of sparkling water, the freshest and most delicious meals made by professional chefs, restaurant guests dressed to the nines in expensive designer clothes and sparkling diamond jewelry.

And then there’s me.

Drab black dress. Hair that looks like it hasn’t been brushed. Utterly exhausted.

My friends all come back with plates stacked dangerously tall. Larry’s even brought a platter for me full of an assortment of different foods to try. He’s even snuck me a small bowl of caviar.

“I hope our flight out to Paris tomorrow is going to be smooth,” Beatrice says as she stuffs her mouth with popcorn shrimp. “I don’t do well with turbulence.”

“I’ve packed a couple sleep aids,” I say quietly. “In case you want to sleep through it.”

“Thanks. I might take you up on that offer.”

“Still,” Larry mumbles, biting a forkful of Caesar salad. “Five-hour flight? It’s going to be so boring if they don’t have a good movie selection.”

“You can borrow my iPad if you want,” I say. “I downloaded a bunch of movies to keep occupied.”

“Phantom of the Opera?”

“Of course. I don’t go anywhere without a copy of Gerard Butler’s sweet pipes.”

Larry grins. “You’re such a mom, you know that?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Beatrice nods. “Absolutely! Total mom of the group.”

“I bet you’ve got Band-Aids in your purse,” Damian says.

“So what if I do?”

Everybody laughs. It’s nice to be able to take my mind off of things for a while.

Beatrice shoves me playfully in the shoulder. “We’re only teasing you.”

“The only reason I carry Band-Aids is because Robert—” I choke on his name. The table immediately grows silent.

Larry clears his throat. “Robert was a drunken asshole. He was out of his mind to let you go.”

“Yeah,” Beatrice adds. “You’re a catch. Robert probably can’t even tie his shoes in the morning without you.”

“Melissa’s the real loser here, running off with that asshole,” Damian says curtly.

I manage a small smile. “Thanks, guys. I’m…I’m fine. Really.”

“What did Prince Miles want with you?” Larry asks under his breath. “After the show was over.”

I shake my head. “He, uh…He just wanted to thank me for the solo. And extend his thanks to the whole orchestra for the short-notice performance.”

My friends all glance at me, disbelief written over their faces. I choose to focus on my food, hoping they’ll catch the hint that I just don’t want to talk about it.

Dinner, for the most part, is lovely. Ever since Robert left me hanging, I’ve been subsisting on a supply of instant ramen noodles and takeout. The divorce hasn’t been finalized yet, but it’s only a matter of time before my lawyer gets back to me. My understanding is that Robert’s been too busy fooling around with Melissa to sign the paperwork. I wish I could fly home and force him to put pen to paper, but I don’t think I can stomach seeing his face right now.

I just want this to be over so I can try to move on.

I can’t start a new chapter of my life if my ex has a finger holding down the page.

My mind wanders.

As my friends talk about the latest episode of Killing Eve, or about sections of the score they always have difficulty with or new warm-up techniques they’d like to try, I find myself thinking about the winding halls of the Oxlandian summer palace.

I remember the route David took me on to see Prince Miles. I remember the smell of books and the warmth of sunlight streaming in through the window. I recall with an alarming amount of detail the spicy, yet subtle tones of Prince Miles’ aftershave.

I wonder what he’s doing right now.

Maybe he’s eating dinner too.

Does he eat with his family, or all alone?

The more I think about it, the more I can’t shake the feeling of loneliness that dripped off the hallway walls. Even though the palace is huge and full of busy attendants, it’s absurdly quiet and still. I was expecting a place full of life and sound. What I found instead was practically a marble mausoleum, cold, tense, and heavy.

It’s difficult not to hear about the Oxlandian Royal Family. They’re always being talked about in the news. From their famous annual charity galas to participating in public events and building openings to their involvement with international humanitarian efforts; they’re all anyone talks about lately. Prince Miles, especially, can’t seem to go a week without having his picture snapped and splashed across the front of gossip magazines. His life just seems so flashy and loud that I don’t think I’d enjoy it very much.

Wilma approaches our table, a weird look on her face.

“Lisabet, I need to speak with you,” she says quickly.

“Is everything all right?”

“I think so. But we should probably do this in private.”

I glance at my friends, who are all observing me with a wide-eyed curiosity. I get up from the table, suddenly uneasy. It’s very rare for Wilma to talk to me one-on-one like this.

“Sure,” I mumble, following Wilma into the hotel lobby.

There’s a seating area in the grand foyer, a couple of black leather armchairs and a love seat in front of a large fire, which currently hosts no flame given the climbing temperatures outside. Wilma and I sit down diagonally from one another, nothing but the low murmur of the receptionist on the phone to keep us company. There are a few bored looking bellhops waiting at the front doors for people to arrive, but other than that, it’s just the two of us.

“Did I do something wrong?” I ask, wringing my fingers together.

Wilma pats the back of my hands and smiles. “No, no, dear. You didn’t do anything wrong. In fact, I think you might have done something great.”

I arch an eyebrow at her. “What’s going on?”

“I just got off the phone with the orchestra’s musical rep.”

“Carl?”

She nods. “Carl. He just informed me that the palace was really impressed with you. They’re offering you a temporary position as their royal cellist for the next couple of months. Apparently, the cellist who is part of the royal orchestra has to pull out because he’s having surgery.”

My heart drums loudly in my chest, blood rushing past my ears. The air’s suddenly too thin to breathe, and the adrenaline coursing through my veins leaves the tips of my fingers and toes tingling.

I suck a sharp breath through clenched teeth. “But the tour—”

“Will be fine,” Wilma assures. “The Royal Family has apparently already paid you in advance to reserve you, and they’re promising a handsome contract for the months that you do stay.”

I shakily reach into my pocket and pull out my phone, anxiously navigating to my bank’s mobile app. The phone nearly slips right out of my hand when I see the whopping sum sitting there in my bank account, taking my balance out of overdraft. This is the healthiest my bank statement has looked in literal months.

How many zeroes is that? I can’t even tell.

I can literally pay off my credit card, square up my bills, and afford the next year’s worth of rent all in one go.

“Why…Why is this happening?”

“You make it sound like such a bad thing, dear. It’s a fantastic opportunity.”

“I mean, I know, but…Why me?”

Wilma shrugs. “You’ve made a very good impression on them, apparently. The Queen is quite eager to listen to you play for her again.”

I chew on my bottom lip, still trying to process everything. I’m looking a gift horse right in the mouth. I feel like I’ve been treading water for so long that it almost doesn’t seem possible that I’ve been thrown a lifeline.

“They’ll be putting you up in the attendants’ quarters at the summer palace,” Wilma explains. “You’ll be provided with food and boarding, as well as a private practice room. All you have to do is play them some music, Lisabet. You’d be a fool to turn the opportunity down.”

“But what about my position with the orchestra.”

“Perfectly safe, dear. I’m not going to replace you. You’re arguably my most talented musician. When you want to come back, there will be a seat waiting for you.”

I practically lunge at Wilma, throwing my arms over her shoulders to bring her into a tight hug. The relief that sweeps through me leaves me utterly winded.

“Thank you,” I rasp. “Thank you so much.”

Wilma pats me on the back and laughs. “Don’t thank me, Lisabet. Thank them.”

“When…When do I have to leave? Do I have time to say goodbye to everyone first?”

She nods. “They are going to send one of the prince’s personal attendants to pick you up. I think you met him. David?”

I take a deep breath. “Yes. David. I know him.”

“This is a good thing, Lisabet. Take this as a win. You need it.”

I smile, so full of excitement that I’m about to vibrate out of my own skin. “Right. You’re right.”

“Get packing, dear. I expect David will be here shortly.”

I don’t think I’ve ever sprung out of a seat before.

The ride up the elevator has my mind swirling. I can’t believe this is happening. Suddenly all of my worries, all of my debts, are gone. And now I get to play music for one of the most prestigious families on earth.

Things feel too good to be true.

Maybe they are.

As I return to my hotel room to pack up my few things, I can’t help but wonder if Prince Miles had something to do with it. It seems highly likely, but I can’t fathom his reasoning behind it. Did he really mean what he said about being interested in me? I thought that was just a line, a throwaway to catch my attention. After all, what woman wouldn’t swoon before a prince as charming as himself?