Noah knew there were different levels of comfort in a bed. Intellectually. But he’d never experienced it as first-hand as he did that first night in the beach cottage he’d found on a moment’s notice.
Sure, he could’ve gotten one of the condos in the posh buildings near the new Ohana resort, but there wasn’t anything available on the first floor. Noah didn’t want to take an elevator ride every time Boomer needed to go out and take care of his business.
He’d searched online, and for being touristy, Getaway Bay didn’t have a lot available for move-in immediately. Of course, it was the height of summer, and there would certainly be more opening up once autumn came.
He really hoped he’d still be on the island then, but his hopes for getting permission to leave Triguard permanently seemed like a distant dot on the distant horizon.
Like the sleep he was trying to get on this rock-hard mattress. He finally pushed the flimsy blanket off and said, “Come on, Boomer. The hammock will be more comfortable than that bed.”
He could call the furniture store and order the nicest thing they had, authorize them to come in whenever they could, even if he was back home.
Home.
He stared at the dark water, marveling at how it kept coming ashore no matter what. He also liked that it seemed mysterious and a bit sinister in the moonlight as opposed to how joyful and bright it was during the day.
Would Getaway Bay ever feel like home to him? Or would he be a perpetual vacationer here?
His day had been one of chaos. Dozens of texts and phone calls. Desperation all the way up his throat as he tried to find a way to appease his mother while keeping Zara employed. When he’d found out his mother had texted her and called her, demanding she move out of the mansion and return most of the money?
Noah hadn’t felt that level of anger in a long, long time. Thankfully, he still had access to his bank account, and he’d found this beach house—er, shack—and said he’d already moved out of the mansion, that Zara was doing the job she’d been hired to do, and there was no reason that had to change.
His parents were not happy with him, and Noah wondered how old he’d have to be before they let him make adult decisions for himself. Because he was not letting Zara go without a fight.
As he watched the moonlight glint off the water, he had the sinking feeling that a fight was exactly what he would get when he touched down in Triguard. He’d booked his own ticket, choosing to go before the engagement announcement so he could return to Getaway Bay in time for Zara’s show on Friday night.
He was absolutely not missing it.
Her words from earlier—maybe this is too hard—rotated around in his very alert mind. He hadn’t liked the sound of them, and he’d promised her that everything would work out. But he honestly had no idea if it would or not.
Her parents hadn’t liked him all that much, and the roadblocks they faced seemed insurmountable. He collapsed into the hammock, glad he was right about one thing. It was infinitely more comfortable than that blasted bed.
Sunday night, he drove to the airport, ready for his trip to Triguard. It would take a day and a half to get there, and he was already annoyed. He landed in Newark sometime near morning and had half a mind to wander around the state of New Jersey as if he were a regular man. Maybe ride the subway or visit a park. Maybe carry a briefcase, like he had a job to get to like everyone else.
In the end, he found a hotel that would let him check into a room that hadn’t been used the previous night, and he slept for most of his eighteen-hour layover. The bed wasn’t the best he’d slept in, but it beat the beach cottage by a large margin.
The sun shone brightly in Triguard when he landed, which totally didn’t reflect his mood. Exhaustion weighed him down, and he just wanted to crawl into bed and sleep for a while. Though he’d flown first class, his legs didn’t fold right on an airplane, and he was in no mood for the press—or for his family for that matter.
But word had obviously gotten out that he’d be arriving today, because the reporters were five deep as he walked out of the airport. His father had decreed they could not go inside, and there was a special, roped-off area for them.
Noah had never been happier for sunglasses, as he was sure if the photographers caught sight of his eyes, they’d have a dozen speculations as to why he looked so thrashed. As it was, he grinned and lifted his hand in a royal wave, as if he was so incredibly happy to be back in his home country.
He took a deep breath, his grin stuck in place, and a strong pull of happiness did move through him at being home. After all, there was nothing like his mother’s hug, and he was suddenly anxious to get on his way toward the castle.
But he knew he had some major public relations work to do, so he signed whatever someone put in front of him, noticing that there were several children with books they wanted him to scrawl his name in.
He took the most time with them, asking, “Have you read this one?”
“Yes,” the little boy said.
Noah flipped it over and looked at the front cover. “Oh, I love this one.” He grinned at the boy, who couldn’t be older than ten. “The ending is a little sad, don’t you think?”
He nodded, his eyes wide. His mother kept a grip on his shoulder like Noah might somehow infect him with some sort of bad boy disease if she let her son get too closer. Noah tousled the boy’s hair, and said, “Well, keep reading, bud. It’s the best way to travel.”
He straightened and smiled at the mom, who grinned right back at him. He repeated this process until everyone had been satisfied. The press had taken hundreds of pictures, and once the last person had been taken care of, a reporter yelled, “Where have you been, Prince Noah?”
Prince Noah.
He hadn’t been called that for a long time.
“Overseas,” he said. “Great for the psyche.”
“Are you home for good?” someone asked at the same time someone else called, “Are the rumors about Princess Louisa true?”
Noah waved and hitched his bag higher on his shoulder. “I’ve been gone for months. I’m sure I don’t know what’s going on with my sister.” He glanced around for his ride, sure his father had arranged something for him. After all, Noah had passed along his flight info, which someone had obviously “leaked” to the media.
He’d been standing outside talking to people for about twenty minutes now, and as he glanced down the busy street, he saw the long limousine with the royal flags. He stepped right over to the curb and lifted his hand as if the driver wouldn’t know where he was.
Sure enough, Luc eased to a stop with the back door only inches from Noah’s hand, but he didn’t open the door. He never did. He waited for Luc to do it. After all, they paid the man an exorbitant amount of money to drive the limousine and open doors.
He came around and said, “Good afternoon, Prince Noah. So good to see you.”
Noah’s heart swelled, and he said, “Good to see you too, Luc.” And it really was. The servants had never judged Noah, and he’d never been so appreciative of that fact as he was right now. Luc reached for the door handle, and Noah edged to the side, almost desperate to get in the car, get behind those tinted windows, get some relief from this public appearance stuff he wasn’t so good at.
But Luc didn’t allow him into the car. He stood back as Noah’s father, the King himself, unfolded his tall frame from the car. He buttoned his suit coat and looked at the press. He lifted one hand and smiled the same way Noah had before turning to his son.
So many things were said in those few seconds. So much communicated with the meeting of eyes and a few moments of time. Noah’s emotions swelled and roared, and he knew his father loved him. Screw ups and all.
His dad took the couple of steps to Noah and embraced him, sending the reporters into a complete tizzy. “Welcome home, son,” he said, his voice soft and sincere, and Noah held onto him like his life depended on it.
It was as if thirty-one years of emotions bubbled to the surface all at once. Noah had kept everything bottled up, only showing what he couldn’t control in rare instances. He’d long thought his brother and sister were simply better at everything, but really, they were better at blowing off steam behind closed doors, while Noah sometimes erupted when there were cameras around.
He stepped back as his father released him and turned back to the crowd. “Thank you all for respecting the crown,” he said. “And don’t forget. We have a royal announcement tomorrow evening, at six p.m.” With that, he turned toward Luc, nodded, and slid gracefully into the back of the limo.
Noah followed him, ignoring the shouted questions from the media. Inside the car, he found his mother and Damien, and surprise rolled through him that they hadn’t gotten out of the vehicle.
“Mom,” he said, accepting her side hug, which wasn’t nearly as good as the full thing. He glanced at his brother, who wore a completely unreadable look. “What’s going on? Where’s Louisa?” Might as well have made it a family reunion in the back of the limo, though it was bad enough the King and his heir were in the same car.
Something was really going down, and nerves ran through Noah.
“She’s busy preparing for the engagement announcement,” his mother said.
“Why didn’t you guys get out?”
“Clara said it would be more powerful to have your father welcome you home.” His mother flicked something invisible off her skirt. “She said I always forgive you, and you needed to be seen with the King as he welcomed you back with open arms.”
Noah met his father’s eye again. “And am I welcomed back with open arms?”
“Of course,” his dad said, and Noah nodded. Their conversations these past few weeks had been civil. Personal. Familial. Noah had never felt like he didn’t belong in his own family—not the way Zara did. He just felt…stifled by the royalty of it.
“What else did Clara say I need to do?” he asked, thinking their press secretary should’ve come along for the ride too.
“She’s lined up a speaking opportunity for you,” his mother said, exchanging a glance with Damien.
“Mother, I’m not going to be here long enough for a speaking opportunity.” His flight left on Thursday at noon, and with the day and a half trip home, and the eleven-hour time difference, he’d have exactly an hour to spare before Zara made her first dive into the water.
He was not missing it.
His mom said nothing, and Noah looked at Damien too. “What’s going on?”
Time seemed to slow as the car continued to move, but no one spoke. Only his mother looked uncomfortable, and Noah realized Damien really was ready to take the throne.
“We need you to stay for a few weeks,” he finally said.
“A few weeks?” Noah practically yelled, heat shooting from his toes to his brain. “No.” He shook his head now. “I can’t do that. I can’t.”
“We checked on Zara’s show, dear,” his mother said like he was being petulant on purpose. “It runs all summer. You can see it when you return.”
“No, I can’t,” he said. “It’s sold out, and I had to beg, borrow, and practically turn over my inheritance to get the tickets I did.” He couldn’t miss opening night. It meant a lot to Zara, and he had to be there.
“We’re sorry,” his mother said, and Noah wanted to rage at her. Sorry? In that moment, he didn’t understand his parents or his brother. Couldn’t they understand he wanted something different for his life?
“We’d like Zara to come here,” his father said, and Noah’s gaze shot to him.
“She’s working, Dad. She can’t just leave the show.”
“Of course.” He looked out the window.
“Well, Louisa needs an escort around the island as she celebrates with the people, and Clara thought you’d be the best man for the job. It’ll repair your reputation and allow you the opportunity to leave Triguard as you wish.”
“Why can’t Eric escort her?”
“He’ll be with you, yes,” Damien said. “But it’s improper for them to travel alone, and they need an entourage.”
Noah scoffed. Of course, Louisa and Eric wouldn’t be traveling alone. They’d likely have two security guards each, with an additional four undercover, following from a distance.
“This is ridiculous,” he said. He wondered what his parents would do if he snuck out of the castle and tried to board the plane on Thursday the way his original itinerary had planned for him to do.
Desperation clogged his throat, and he wanted to text Zara right now and tell her how insane his family was being. But it was two o’clock in the morning there, and he didn’t want her to know about any speedbumps.
Then she’d say their relationship was too hard, and when he got back to Getaway Bay—if he ever did—she wouldn’t be his to kiss anymore.
“I have a plane ticket,” he said.
“We’ll exchange it,” Damien said easily, as if he himself knew how to do such things.
“Louisa needs you, dear,” his mom said, and Noah shook his head.
“No, she doesn’t.”
“No,” his father said. “She doesn’t. But Noah, you have things to explain to us about Venice, and a reputation with your countrymen to fix because of it. Then we want to know everything about Zara, and how you two met and what’s been happening between you. And then, if you behave while on this engagement tour, then I’ll consider letting you leave Triguard.”
Noah heard the threat in his father’s voice, definitely heard the emphasis on the word if, and absolutely saw the blazing fire in his dad’s eyes.
He leaned back against the seat, wishing with everything inside him that he’d never come home. Because it felt like now that he was back on the tiny island where he’d been born and raised, he would never be leaving it again.