“Where did you find that?” the man asked as David passed. “And isn’t it for me?” His ginger eyebrows rose in offense.
“Not tonight, Charles,” David replied, ignoring the first question. “Didn’t you hear the thunder?” He placed the large, old clock on the ground and leaned over the brick wall, where he had hidden the materials for his own shelter.
Charles groaned. “Don’t care, mate. When it’s this bloody cold, it’ll be worth burning even if we only get five minutes from it.”
“Don’t be daft,” a coarse female voice reprimanded. “That thing’ll last us a few hours. We’re not risking ruining it in the rain! Here, hand it to me, David, love—I’ll keep it with me. My box is always dry.”
“I’ll bet it is...” Charles replied.
“Oh shut it.”
David sighed as he turned back around, his arms loaded with materials. “Help yourself, then, Tina,” he addressed the thirty-something-year-old woman. He nodded at the clock before proceeding toward the patch of empty ground next to Giles’s shelter.
“Long day, eh?” the older man asked as David passed his tent.
David paused to look the ex-businessman in the eyes. “Yeah,” he replied simply.
The lines of Giles’ tired face deepened as he chuckled—then some more as he rasped out a heavy cough.
David managed to return a faint smile. “You’d better get inside, old man. You’ve still got that fleece blanket, right?”
Giles nodded slowly. “Yeah. Don’t worry about me.”
David nodded and continued on his way. He had to get set up before the rain started.
“Hey—wait, Tina!” Charles called out behind him. “Hand me that thing for a sec. It looks antique.”
“Says the man who was about to burn it on sight,” Tina snapped.
Letting the bickering of his neighbors fade into the background, David arranged his collection of plastics and cardboard and got to work on his pop-up home. He set up as quickly as he could in a race against the blackening sky, then pushed open the plastic flap leading to his shelter’s dark, musty interior and crawled inside.
He fumbled in his pocket for his rusty light, switched it on, and began to organize himself for the night. He pushed his boots and coat to one end of the shelter while gathering some newspapers he had collected and smoothing them out over his coarse woolen blanket. They would provide extra warmth during the night, as well as help to absorb any water that seeped through the ceiling. He was almost done laying them out when rain began to batter the roof. The newspaper right in front of him crumpled, then began to stain under an onslaught of drops.
But the tent roof had held fast. This was not the rain. This water was spilling from his own eyes.
For they’d caught a glimpse of a bold line of text. A headline that drove the cold already inhabiting his limbs straight to his heart.
Barely breathing, he clutched the sheet of paper and shook it straight with one hand, his other illuminating the text with his light.
“Princess in London for Grand Engagement at Palace” the headline blared.
The princess in question was Princess Katerina De Courtes, touted by the media to be one of the most beautiful and eligible bachelorettes in the world. “A modern day Grace Kelly,” no less.
And at the sight of her picture, every memory David had fought to forget over the past five years came crashing back into him, ripping the breath from his lungs and crushing his windpipe.
The shock. The pain. The grief. The anger. The disgrace.
The injustice.
Each one a searing bolt of emotion, hot-wired to his chest.
Flashes of scenes lit up his mind like an unstoppable movie, forcing him to relive every second of it all.
He tore his eyes away from the paper, gasping for breath.
“You okay, David?” the muffled voice of Giles called from his left.
David swallowed hard, realizing his tears had been accompanied by sounds. Too loud sounds. He quickly cleared his throat. “Fine,” he grated out.
Pushing the newspaper and the light to one corner, he swiped roughly at his eyes with the back of his sleeve and slowly leaned back in the gloom.
What would he have told his friend, anyway, even if he had wanted to talk?
For who would have believed it…that an invisible like him could have ever held the heart of a princess?
Chapter 2: Katy
Cambridge, Massachusetts.
Five years earlier.
Katerina stared at the letter, her heart in her throat. Her eyes zoned in on the closing sentences.
“Think about it, Katy. Please. I know I’ve been an absolute jerk but I am so, SO sorry for everything, and I’m paying for it now with each day we’re apart. I’m thinking about you all the time, remembering when you stayed with me here in our chalet. I’m missing you, gorgeous, so very much…From Russia with love, Alexei.”
She scoffed in disgust, then finally tossed the letter aside and slid off the kitchen stool. The heady scent of fresh cupcakes filled the room, but her stomach was roiling.
How dare the selfish prick contact her again! How dare he. After all he’d done. After all the hell he’d put her through. She always knew the guy had a pair of balls large enough for two, but she had never thought that he would stoop to this.
