The Royalty

Chapter 25

I hugged a pillow to my chest as I laid there. There was one thing I couldn't stop thinking. What have I done?

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Maxon's POV

I stayed on the floor for a while. I wasn't exactly sure how long. The weight of the fight was eating at my mind again. My feelings were conflicted as I got back to my feet and slipped my wedding band back on to my finger. Part of me wanted to have America come back so we could work this out. I hadn't exactly given her a chance to explain. Another part of me said there was no way to work this out. This had been a tipping point. I'd figured out what she was really like, that she'd been messing with me the whole time.

I was having trouble accepting what I'd determined, though. So many things pointed to the opposite of it. We'd gone through so much together. What person would deal with all of that just to get money and power?

Who could fake everything so well? The words she'd said to me, the way she'd kissed me, the way she smiled at me. They'd all felt so real. Also, the way we just seemed to... connect. We understood each other on so many levels. There was a bond that we shared. How could that be one-sided? How could I feel so much and she feel so little?

It was what America had said during the fight that had really hit me hard and started to alter my opinion of her. People say stupid things when they're mad, but for some reason, it felt like she was finally being truthful with me. Those three little words had made it all clear. As soon as she'd let them slip out, they'd snaked into my head, only settling after they'd changed my whole mindset.

I was about to sit on the bed when there was a knock on my door. Was it her? Was she here to apologize? If she was, I wouldn't accept. America would just have to get over it. It's not like she cared about me anyway.

I didn't even feel like looking at her right now. "Go away, America," I called to her.

The door opened and I sighed angrily. "I'm not in the mood, America. Just-" I stopped when I saw it wasn't America. It was Daphne.

"Trouble in paradise?" she asked with a small smirk. I groaned and turned away from her. I sat down on the bed, my arms crossed.

I glared at her. "What? Ruining my marriage wasn't enough for you? Do you have to taunt me now?"

She wore an innocent expression and gasped at me. "Moi? I would never."

I rolled my eyes at her, laying down so that I faced away from her. Daphne walked over to the other side of the bed, mirroring me and laying down. "This is really bothering you, isn't it? My dear Maxon, would you like to talk about it?"

"I'm not your dear anything, Daphne," I said, remembering all of the times America had said nearly the same thing to me.

She put her hand on my arm. "Don't be bitter, Maxon. Tell me how you're feeling. Maybe I can help."

I didn't bother pulling away from her hand. I'd learned the hard way that resisting only made her worse.

Warily, I decided there was no harm in venting to her. Talking to someone would probably be therapeutic. "America doesn't love me."

"What do you mean?"

"We were arguing," I explained. "I ended up asking her why she'd married me and she said she didn't know. Marriage is about loving someone and wanting to spend your life with them. She either loves me or she doesn't. Not knowing is closer to not loving, in my opinion."

Daphne shook her head. "That's awful."

"The worst part is that I believed that she did. America has been playing me the whole time and I just believed her."

She met my eyes, looking genuinely sad for me. "You deserve to have someone who loves you," she said softly.

Daphne slid her hand from my arm to my cheek. She moved closer. "I want to be that person for you," she whispered. She closed her eyes, leaning in closer. I was about to close my eyes, allow her to kiss me, when a single word rang in my head. No!

I couldn't kiss Daphne. What about America? She may not love me and I may be angry with her, but I was married to her. How could I betray her? I'd told her I wasn't cheating but if I kissed Daphne, I would become a hypocrite.

I moved away from her, getting to my feet. "I'm married! What on earth are you thinking, Daphne?" I asked, half-yelling. "What about that guy? The one you were going on a date with?"

She groaned. "Fredrick? He was as dull as a brick. It didn't work out. None of the others did either. You, on the other hand, you're perfect. You're handsome and funny and interesting and you know me, like really know me."

"I told you before. Knowledge is not love."

"It's a big part of it! It goes right along with attraction and all of that other stuff. And you're attracted to me! I know because you were about to kiss me. I'd bet that you still want to."

"I am not attracted to you, Daphne! I never was. I was going to kiss you because I was feeling lonely and you were offering and you were the closest person to me. You knew I was feeling vulnerable and you used that to your advantage. If that's what you call attraction, I'll have to get you a dictionary for your next birthday."

Daphne finally got to her feet. She walked over to me. She poked me on the chest. "I'm still right," she said. "Even after all of this time, I'm still right. You still can't see love, though it is practically slapping you across the face. It is there, Maxon, but it isn't between you and your redheaded wife."

She stormed out, leaving me alone.

I sat back down on the bed, cradling my head in my hands. What was going on? I was in love with a girl who didn't seem to love me and another girl said she's in love with me and I didn't love her.

I tried to think about Daphne and what'd just happened but America kept floating back into my mind. I could just imagine her face if I'd kissed Daphne and she'd found out. Then again, would she even care?

In an attempt to distract myself, I walked over to the suitcases. I forced myself not to look at hers and grabbed my pajama pants from mine and quickly changed.

I returned to the bed, getting under the comforter. I rolled over, habitually reaching for America. My arm dropped when I had to remind myself that she wasn't going to be sleeping in the same bed as me tonight, maybe ever again. She wasn't going to be kissing me goodnight. She wasn't going to press herself up against my chest. She wasn't going murmur that she loved me right as she was falling asleep.

My heart ached as I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing it would just stop. Why couldn't it just stop?