Majesty (American Royals, #2)(94)

“I had to tell you something, and it couldn’t wait. I…” She hesitated, but all her years of artifice and subterfuge had melted away, and for once the truth fell bluntly from her bright red lips. “I want to be with you.”

Ethan barked out a laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous. You want to be with Jeff. You’ve spent the last four years chasing him, remember? Speaking of which,” he added carelessly, “let me be the first to congratulate you on getting back together. You’ll make a fantastic princess.”

Daphne flushed. She should have known that Ethan wouldn’t make it easy on her, that he would be difficult and sardonic and out of reach.

“I don’t want Jeff.” She looked up at Ethan through her lashes, a hot soft glow in her eyes. “Remember at the museum gala, how you said you couldn’t keep waiting around for me? I’m saying that you don’t have to wait anymore.”

Ethan held her gaze for a moment, then blew out a breath and looked away. “I think I’ll pass, thanks.”

“Ethan, I love you.”

What a relief it was to speak the words aloud. Daphne took a step forward, to reach for his hand and interlace their fingers.

Of course she loved him. Ethan, the only person who understood her—who knew what she had done and why she had done it and had remained her ally, her friend, in spite of it all.

For years Daphne had taken his support for granted. Countless times she had leaned on him, as easily as she might lean against a wall to catch her breath, before striding out to face the world. She’d let her pride fool her into thinking that her strength came from herself alone, when this entire time she’d had Ethan at her back.

Hadn’t some part of her always known that she loved him? But she had shoved that knowledge down deep, because she’d been so intently focused on Jefferson. Because Jefferson had the titles and status, and she’d thought that was what she wanted.

“I won’t pretend that I didn’t spend years wishing you would say this,” Ethan told her at last, pulling his hand from hers. “Daphne, you may not remember the day we met, but I do. It was at Sam and Jeff’s party over winter break, my sophomore year.

“I had no idea who you were until I saw you that night. You were talking to a group, and damn if you didn’t name-drop a Renaissance painter and a fashion magazine in the same breath.” His mouth lifted in a ghost of the old smile. “The other girls at court just chase whatever trend the internet tells them to. But I saw at once that you were different. That you actually thought for yourself—and that your thoughts were wasted on that crowd.” He shook his head at the memory. “I think I fell in love with you then and there.”

Daphne held her breath, her every nerve afire with eagerness.

“Later that night, I saw you with Jeff. You dropped a sparkler on the ground and pretended to need his help stamping it out,” Ethan went on. “He believed your damsel-in-distress act, but I could tell exactly why you’d done it. It killed me a little, knowing how ruthlessly smart you were, and that you were going to use it all to try to get him. Just like every other girl we know,” he said darkly. “I wasn’t surprised when you and Jeff got together soon afterward. He would have been a fool not to go out with you.”

There was a sudden raw stinging in her throat; Daphne swallowed. “Ethan—”

“A terrible, jealous part of me wanted to hate him for dating you. But not as much as I hated myself for feeling this way.” Ethan sighed. “At first I tried to stay away from you, avoid parties or trips where I knew you’d be. But that was torture, too. I didn’t know what was worse, being around you while you were with Jeff, or not being around you at all.”

It seemed to Daphne that the pennants of the chapel lifted and fell a little, almost as if they were sighing. The candles flickered but didn’t go out.

“I loved you, god help me, and I knew better than to let you ever find out. So I tried to forget you,” Ethan said brutally. “I told myself that you and Jeff were happy together. I wanted you to be happy, no matter how much it hurt me. Even if I suspected that you didn’t really love Jeff, I told myself I had no right to interfere.

“But at Himari’s birthday party, when you told me how upset and hurt you felt—what it cost you, being with Jeff—I broke all my promises to myself. I couldn’t not fight for you, Daphne,” he said heavily. “I didn’t even feel all that guilty about it. I had loved you for so long that it made it impossible to regret sleeping with you. No matter how wrong it was.”

Daphne’s heart fluttered in her chest. She’d endured the same confusion: knowing that she should feel terrible, yet not being able to muster up more than a shred of guilt.

“When you wanted to meet up afterward, I had this absurd hope that you might have changed your mind about us. I think if you had given me the slightest sign, if you’d taken even a single step toward me, I would have blurted out that I loved you.” He shook his head. “Of course, the only reason you wanted to meet was to cover up what we’d done.”

“But you didn’t say anything!”

“You think it would have changed things?” Ethan asked flatly. “You’re so cruel to the people who love you, Daphne. You use their love to serve your own purposes, hold it over their heads like a weapon. You are selfish, and I have always known that. But I used to imagine that someday you might love me, too, and turn that selfishness outward. That you would be selfish for us, instead of for yourself.”