19
" You don't have to say that," she insisted. "I mean - I'll understand, if you hate me."
"I could never hate you, Bee. I just...I miss you." There was no reproach in Connor's words, only a weary, unflinching truth.
"I miss you, too." she said, and meant it.
Beatrice's tears were coming more freely now, but that wasn't surprising. Nothing in life hurt more than hurting the people you loved. Yet Beatrice knew she had to say all of this.
She and Connor had loved each other too fiercely for her to let him go without a proper goodbye.
"I am...forever changed by you," she added, her voice catching. "I gave you part of my heart a long time ago, and I've never gotten it back."
"You don't need it back." His voice was rough with unshed tears. "I swear that I'll keep it safe. Everywhere I go, that part of you will come with me, and I will guard and treasure it. Always."
A sob escaped her chest. She hurt for Connor and with Connor and because of Connor, all at once.
This wasn't how breakups were meant to go. In the movies they always seemed so hateful, with people yelling and throwing things at each other. They weren't meant to be like this, tender and gentle and full of heartache.
"Okay," she replied, through her tears. "That part of my heart is yours to keep."
Connor stepped back, loosening his hand from hers, and Beatrice felt the thread between them pull taut and finally snap. She imagined that she could hear it - a crisp sort of sound, like the stem of a rose being snapped in two.
Her body felt strangely sore, or maybe it was her heart that felt sore, recognizing the parts of it that she had given away, forever.
"You're such an amazing person, Connor. I hope you find someone who deserves you."
Again he attempted a crooked smile. "It won't be easy on her, trying to live up to the queen. For a small person, you cast quite the shadow," he said, and then his features grew serious once more. "Bee - if you ever need me, I'll be there for you. You know that, right?"
She swallowed against a lump in her throat. "The same promise holds for me, too. I'm always here if you need me."
As she spoke, the steel panel began to lift back into the ceiling.
Beatrice straightened her shoulders beneath the cool silk of the gown, drew in a breath. Somehow she managed to gather up the tattered shreds of her self-control, as if she wasn't a young woman who'd just said goodbye to her first love - to her best friend.
As of she wasn't a young woman at all, but a queen. "
― Katharine McGee , Majesty (American Royals, #2)
