Chapter 17

"Ryan, honey, be a dear and run down to the flower shop and check the centerpieces."

Darcy asked Ryan this perfectly normal question with a perfectly practiced nonchalant voice. Keith, Ryan noticed, immediately pretended to be terribly interested in tying the bows on the wedding favors.

"How long should I be gone?" Ryan asked, trying to keep the anger out of his voice.

Darcy did not notice his implication, or his anger, and said, "It should only take you…" her eyes flickered uncontrollably to Keith, "… an hour or so."

That fast? Ryan thought. "Alright, let me just get a jacket," he said as calmly as he could, and then turned on his heel and stormed to his room. That's it, he thought, I am getting out of here. Darcy had asked him to go to the flower shop one time too many. He knew Pierre the florist far too well, had seen the war wound on Pierre's inner thigh too many times, had been hit on by Pierre's unibrowed daughter too often. Darcy and Keith had forced him to do the last thing he had wanted to do.

He packed a small duffel bag with enough for one day and then sneaked out the door, not bothering to say goodbye. He'd only be gone a day, no one would notice. In fact, his absence would probably bring a great amount of joy.

His mother had arrived the day before; the wedding was in three days. She had brought with her the Teleran royal jet, and Ryan hailed a cab and directed it to the small airfield where the jet rested. He felt no trepidation at what he was about to do, he just knew that right now, he had to do it.

He arrived at the airfield where the shiny jet emblazoned with the Teleran flag sat as if waiting for him. He paid the cab driver and walked resolutely toward it. Flashing his identification, the guards bowed and asked him where he wished to go.

"New York City."

"Miss Bennet, sign this."

"Miss Bennet, do you approve this?"

"Miss Bennet, there a problem in the hand bag section."

"Miss Bennet?"

"Miss Bennet –"

"Miss Bennet!"

Susanna felt as if her brain had been extracted from her skull, rolled over by a zamboni, and then stuffed back in. Her work had become her life, and vice versa; she thought of nothing else. She had taken to coming into the office at eight o'clock in the morning, and not leaving until nine o'clock at night when the store closed. Her apartment was in disarray, she wore nothing but business suits, and perhaps worst of all, her hibiscus plants had died. Tracy, her secretary, brought her dinner every day because she forgot to eat. She was even sick of her own name.

She had completely forgotten about the wedding, and about the fact that she had never called back to say she wasn't coming after her embarrassing phone call. One night she had dream where she was screaming "SHE'S CHEATING ON YOU!" right into Ryan's ear, but by the time she woke up, she was back to thinking about shipments and prices and budgets. She had no personality anymore, no sarcasm, no opinions, but she had perfected the ability to sign her name in under one second.

Vivian had returned from her honeymoon and had invited Susanna to dinner, but it had been the same evening that Susanna had to supervise a redesigning of the lingerie department. Then Vivian had invited her to the Hamptons to meet her new husband's parents, but Susanna had to meet with investors and talk about stock options. A few days later, Vivian had asked her to come to house-warming party where she and her husband had bought a new loft on the Upper East Side, but Susanna had to make a presentation on the about-to-be-renovated linen department. As a result, Susanna had not seen her best friend in nearly a month.

A few days before the forgotten wedding, Susanna heard a loud commotion outside her office door. She dazedly yet crossly looked up from her report on the new chinaware shipment and stared at the door with glazed eyes. She tore off her reading glasses; Tracy had dragged her to the doctor after she had found Susanna hunched over a paper, one inch away from the desk, trying to read it. They were a nuisance, but a helpful nuisance, anyway.

She stood up, irritated at the break in her concentration. She had to finish this report before the representatives from Ralph Lauren arrived to talk about their new line of bedsheets. She walked to the door and threw it open, ready to yell at anyone in her path.

"Susanna, finally! I thought I'd never see you again!" It was Vivian, and she was near to tears. Tracy shrugged apologetically as Vivian wrapped Susanna into a death-grip, or perhaps it was supposed to be a hug. Either way, Susanna felt no relief or happiness at seeing her friend.

"Vivian, I'm working, I can't talk right now," Susanna snapped.

Vivian looked confused and crestfallen. "But… I haven't seen you in so long, and I thought you might like a break," she said, her chin trembling.

"A break?" Susanna repeated. "A break! The last thing I need is a break, Vivian, what I'd like, what I need, is to finish my work in peace. I'll call you when I get the chance," she said coldly, then turned on her heel and returned to her office.

Ryan arrived in New York mid-morning, his fearlessness from before ebbing a bit. Susanna didn't want to see him, she had no feelings for him whatsoever; she probably thought he was the world's biggest scumbag. He, however, wanted desperately to see her once more before he put on his tux and made the worst mistake of his life.

He had his pathetic duffel bag sent to the Plaza, and then continued to the Brittania building. He hesitated outside for a moment, staring up to the very top, wondering whether he was in his right mind or not. But the knowledge that Susanna was just a few hundred feet away soon drove away any doubts.

He walked through the crowded store toward the elevators. Riding up, he wondered how Susanna would react. A million different scenarios ran through his head, each as likely as the last.

The elevator opened and Ryan stepped out, earning a few stares as he turned the corner to her office. He grumbled in his throat as he neared the desk at which Darcy had once sat, the scene of the beginning of his dreadful error. A new, red-headed girl sat at the desk, and her eyes bulged when he reached her.

"May I help you?" she asked in a coy voice.

"I need to see Susanna," he said, indicating the door.

She laughed, high and girlish.

"Miss Bennet's office is that way," she said, batting her eyelashes as she pointed to the other end of the hall.

"No it's not," he protested. "It's right here."

She laughed again. "She got promoted, silly."

"Promoted?" he repeated.

"Yes, she's in the big office now."

"Oh. Thanks," he said and began to walk away. Promoted? What did that mean?

"Anytime," she cooed after him.

Ryan walked to the other end of the hall and approached a hassled looking black woman with curly hair. On the door to the office he now faced read: Susanna Bennet, President. Wow, he thought. Would she ever cease to amaze him?

"Good morning," he said to the secretary with his most encouraging smile. She responded by boring her two brown eyes deep into his skull.

"Um, I need to see Susanna," he said, faltering.

"Have you called for an appointment?" she asked, her voice tired and heavy.

"Oh, um… no, I haven't," he said, taken aback.

She grunted and pulled out a large black book. Opening it, she flipped a few pages and ran her finger down the list of penciled-in names and dates.

"Alright, I can fit you in next Tuesday at 3:00," she said.

Ryan nearly choked on his own saliva.

"Tuesday? But that's six days away!" he cried, panicked.

"I'm sorry, sir, that's her first opening," she said, her voice cross.

He sighed, and ran a hand through his hair, which had gotten curlier as winter approached. It had always been one of his odd qualities.

"Do you know her personal schedule?" he asked.

She raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Is she going to Paris this weekend?"

She took a moment to scan her computer screen. "Yes."

He nodded, and was about to beg this woman to let him see Susanna, when a huge, noisy group of people in business attire emerged from the elevator, all carrying packages, clipboards, or mannequins. They descended upon the secretary, talking wildly. She forgot all about Ryan and attended to the boisterous group, entreating them to calm down and splitting them into groups. Checking to make sure she was still busy, he glided into the office with the first group.

The office was enormous, and Ryan retreated to a corner next to a dead hibiscus plant until the mob scene faded. He couldn't see Susanna through the crowd, but he could hear her voice trying to break through the din. It sounded… different. Not edged with sadness or cynicism like it usually was… it sounded stressed and hollow, not at all like Susanna. He pondered the change as he waited a few minutes until the crowd finally dispersed and made their exit. Ryan was at the door in a flash, and shut and locked it before anyone else could come in. Immediately, there was pounding and shouting on the other side, but Ryan turned from the door to look at Susanna.

She sat at her desk, hunched over, writing furiously, a few stray locks of hair falling out of the twist at the back of her head. She was wearing rectangular reading glasses that he had never seen before underneath her intensely furrowed brow, and paired with her severely pursed lips, she looked much different than he had ever seen her. He began to wonder if he had the wrong Susanna Bennet.

He approached her desk cautiously, not sure whether or not to speak. As soon as he reached the desk, she stuck out her right hand, her left still vehemently scribbling unintelligibly, her pen poised and ready to sign. He chuckled softly.

"It's me, Susanna," he said, hoping she would look up.

"Of course it is," she said distractedly, her hand gesturing impatiently, wanting something to sign. She didn't look up at him, or seem to recognize his voice. Was she ignoring him on purpose?

"No, Susanna, it's me, Ryan," he tried again.

The noise at the door grew viciously louder, and Susanna finally looked up. She did not, however, look at Ryan and instead raised an eyebrow to the door. Her eyes were glassy as she got out of her chair and walked to it.

"No, Susanna, don't-" Ryan tried to say, but she unlocked and opened the door, letting in a flood of people. Ryan sighed, but went back to the corner.

The stream eventually subsided, but people still came steadily in ones and twos, with letters, more clipboards, and full racks of clothes. Ryan finally accepted that he was never going to have Susanna alone, so he left his corner and went to stand by her desk, where she was mechanically signing her scribbled signature as people trickled in.

"Susanna, I know you're busy, but I wanted to talk to you," he attempted.

She continued to write feverishly, but said, "About the linen department? I already signed for the renovation," she said.

Ryan shook his head and knelt down next to her. "No, Susanna. About my wedding… remember me? The prince?"

"Of course," she said, absentmindedly. "Ronald, right?"

"No, actually, it's Ryan," he said, growing irritated.

"Right, of course," she said, signing a clipboard a man in a blue uniform handed to her, not even seeing Ryan.

"Well, I just wanted to, um…" he paused as another uniformed man came to the desk. "I just wanted to see," he resumed once the man left, "if we were okay, you know, after Italy."

Susanna's head popped up again, but again she did not look at Ryan. Her hand continued to write, but Ryan's heart leapt all the same.

"Italy…" she repeated in a dazed, hollow voice. "I have to call Gucci," she said, and then bent her head to the paper again.

"No, Susanna, Italy… we kissed remember?" he said, his voice distressed.

"Kiss? You mean the perfume? It came in yesterday," she said.

He made an angry sound in his throat. "What's happened to you?"

"I'm perfectly well, and you?" she said in an expertly polite voice.

He decided to try a test. "Susanna, do you get along with your mother?"

"Of course, Ronald," she said in an empty voice.

"And you think that me getting married to a woman I don't love is a good idea?" he pressed.

"Wonderful idea. Write it down."

"And I should be in denial about the fact that I love you and that you would love me if you just gave it a chance?" he said softly, hoping this would grab her attention.

It didn't. "That's wonderful, Ronald."

"Who are you? What has this promotion done to you? And it's Ryan, by the way," he said furiously. He wasn't sure whether to be mad at her or at whoever gave her this life-sucking job. She had turned into a robot.

He looked at Susanna sadly, knowing the next time he saw her, if he saw her, he would be married. And then he may never see her again.

Perhaps it was a sign. A sign that he should just forget about whatever stupid, idealistic dream he had and just be happy with what he did have. He didn't need to necessarily be in love to have a great life; he could still travel… perhaps he would do charity work. Perhaps he could to Africa or Southeast Asia or the Middle East. Perhaps he should stop complaining about such a trivial thing as marrying Darcy when people were dying and being torn away from loved ones even as he stood there, staring at the woman he loved but couldn't have. There was something bigger in life that he was missing. He was a prince for crying out loud, how could he even think to complain?

"Goodbye, Susanna," he said softly, and then kissed her forehead before walking out of the room.

Susanna suddenly snapped out of whatever stupor she had been in. She raised her eyes just in time to see a man walk out of the room. Who had he been? And who had just kissed her on the forehead? She felt the spot where a pair of lips had just been.

She suddenly felt an onset of clarity, as if a fog had been lifted from around her mind. Where was she? What day was it? Why was she wearing glasses? Why was her hair so tight? And the worst of it all: why didn't her shoes match her stockings? Her breath caught her chest. She looked back down at the desk before her; two huge piles of papers sat on her desk, one with each paper donned by her (was it hers?) signature, and the other seemingly waiting for it. She grabbed the name plate on the edge of her desk and looked at it: Susanna Bennet, President. President? Since when?

She took a deep, shaky breath and stretched her memory; a foggy recollection of Mr. Simmons asking her to take his place floated across her mind. Had she been in so steep a trance for that long? Was it possible? Had she even been living for the past few weeks?

She left her desk and walked listlessly toward the door. Her hand stopped above the handle as she noticed, with a great deal of sadness, that her hibiscus plants had died. How far in had she been? Was she even Susanna anymore?

She opened the door and stepped outside, looking around with the wonder of a newborn child. Tracy had stood up and taken her hand.

"It's alright, dear, back into the office we go," the secretary said, as if talking to child. Susanna looked at her in bewilderment.

"Tracy, what day is it?" she asked in voice very unlike the one she had once known.

"It's Thursday, October 23rd," Tracy replied.

"The 23rd!" Susanna exclaimed. "What madness is this? How long have I been president?"

"Two weeks, Miss Bennet," Tracy said slowly.

"I feel like I've awoken from a very long dream, Tracy," Susanna said, her eyes still glassy and wondrous. "Who was that man in my office?"

"You mean that handsome fellow with the blonde hair? I don't know, he barged into your office before I could get his name."

"Did he have eyes that were the aqua green of a Caribbean sea?" Susanna said, her voice soft and faraway, her mind picturing the green eyes of someone she couldn't place quite yet.

"As a matter of fact, he did… they were rather dreamy," Tracy said, her voice becoming as wistful as Susanna's.

They stood in silence for a moment, each sighing at the thought of the dreamy fellow with the sparkling green eyes. But then Susanna gasped, feeling like she had been slapped fiercely across the face.

"Tracy!" she cried, her true voice coming back. "It was Ryan! It's the 23rd! Oh no!"

She rushed back into her office and scrounged through her desk until she found her dusty planner. Flipping past bygone fashion shows and photo shoots, she reached October. That Sunday, the 26th, was circled several times in red ink, with the words Ryan's wedding scrawled in the little box. She searched her memory, and suddenly she heard, as clear as the day:

"Oh, Keith… a little lower… Keith! Yes, Keith, YES YES…"

She uttered a cry. She had never called back to say she wasn't coming! And Ryan was marrying Darcy who was having an affair with Keith! And she still didn't know why Keith was there! And Ryan had been the one who had just kissed her on the forehead! And why was she thinking in exclamation points!

She collapsed into her chair and tried desperately to remember what Ryan had said just a few minutes ago, but found she couldn't. She was amazed at how completely lost she had been for two whole weeks. Why had he kissed her? What if he didn't want to get married? What if he had been trying to tell her something important, but she, being stuck in the twilight zone, hadn't heard it? What if her indifference, or what he probably had taken to be her indifference, convinced him that marrying Darcy was the right thing? But Darcy was cheating on him!

She picked up the phone, but then put it back down. What right did she have to tell Ryan that his fiancé was cheating on him? She had already told him it was too late to change anything, and besides, Teleran royalty rarely cared about cheating spouses.

She felt angry, something that still came naturally to her even after two shell-shocked weeks. And yet she couldn't help but feel regretful… what if he didn't know? What if he still thought Darcy was the innocent, naïve girl he had met nearly two months ago? That wasn't fair… but then again, just the idea that he was marrying Darcy wasn't fair.

That little… user! Susanna thought furiously. She couldn't believe Darcy was that dishonest and deceitful. When had she become so unscrupulous?

She knew that now she had to go to the wedding, her mother would just kill her if she didn't, and she and her mother had been doing so well right before Susanna had been sucked into a black hole. But she didn't even have a dress, nor did she have a way to get there, nor a hotel booked. Perhaps she could just call her mother and explain she was busy at work… but her mother wouldn't understand that. She barely knew what the word "work" meant. Perhaps she could have Tracy call and explain she was sick… but her mother would see right through that, as probably would Ryan. In a twisted way, she wanted to go, just in case something happened. But she couldn't.

"Mon petit chou!" she heard a singing voice at the door. Suddenly her door burst open and in swept her godmother, the early afternoon sunlight beaming around her so that she looked like an ethereal angel in a glittering silver outfit. Susanna was struck speechless, and took off her glasses so that she could see what her godmother had brought with her.

"I knew zat you were going to try to get out of going to ze wedding, and I knew zat you had no dress, no way to get zere, and no place to stay," her godmother said in an unearthly voice, giving Susanna the feeling that her godmother was magical. The sun still shone around her like a halo.

"But I am here to tell you zat you must go, Susanna," she continued, stepping out of the light and coming to her goddaughter, who stared at her as if she was a ghost. She helped Susanna stand and took her hand, guiding her to the middle of the room. A silver clothing rack held one hanger, on which hung something enclosed in a garment bag.

"Your flight leaves at 8:00 PM on Saturday from JFK, and you are staying at ze Hôtel de Mayfair sur le rue de Rouget de Lisle. And zis is your dress." And without much further ado, she zipped open the garment bag to reveal the most beautiful dress Susanna had ever seen, or had ever had any hopes of wearing. It was a strapless, brilliantly amethyst satin gown, which bunched together at the bosom to meet a rectangular violet gem, and then flowed in ripples down a full skirt. The back scooped down, where a single band of purple chiffon encrusted with tiny diamonds fell to the floor. Susanna stared at it with her mouth agape, nearly forgetting to breathe.

"Isn't it a bit… much?" she asked when she finally found her voice. Her godmother laughed.

"Of course not!" she said. "Ze wedding is at ze Saint Chapelle, everyone will be dressed to zeir finest."

"Oh, Godmother… I can't accept this," Susanna said, even as she longingly fingered the soft fabric. Her godmother smiled.

"Oui, you can. And I have more," she said, and Susanna finally tore her eyes away from the beautiful gown. Her godmother opened the large handbag she carried and took out two boxes, one slim and one larger. The smaller one she opened, and then unclasped the velvet pouch inside. A glittering diamond necklace and earrings sparkled at Susanna, who gasped.

"Zey are perfect, don't you think?" her godmother said happily. She then opened the other box.

"Zese are my favorite," she said, and reached into the box and emerged again with a shoe, a shimmering, clear shoe that looked as if it was made of glass. Susanna's mouth fell back open as she took the shoe from her godmother. To her great surprise, they weren't made of plastic. She tapped her fingernail on the heel; it sounded like glass.

"Zese are ze only ones of its kind," her godmother said proudly. "Zey are a supple blend of glass and crystal."

"They won't break?" Susanna said in awe.

"Not at all," her godmother replied. "Try zem on… I had zem made just for you."

Susanna carefully laid the shoes on the floor and slipped her feet into them. They were remarkably comfortable, and as she walked around the room, they didn't shatter. She was amazed.

"Godmother, I…"

"You can thank me later," her godmother said. "But you must leave the wedding by midnight."

Susanna cocked an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Because zose jewels are on lease and I need to take zem back to New York with me at 1:00 AM, and zey need to be at Tiffany's by 8:00 in ze morning," her godmother explained.

Susanna smiled. "Alright. You're a savior," she said, and then hugged her godmother tightly.

"Try to have fun. Zere's always time to have your own fairy tale."

Susanna laughed, and her godmother kissed her on the cheek and then vanished. Susanna touched the dress again, and couldn't help but think that if Ryan wouldn't leave Darcy for Susanna in this dress, then he'd never leave her for anything.

Back in Paris, Ryan met with his mother's advisors, asking them if they could arrange for him to take a goodwill tour. They were surprised when he asked them to arrange it immediately following the wedding, but they loved the idea all the same. He would have to attend a training, they said, if he wanted to help with medicines, and a basic learning session about the types of relief different areas of the world needed. He couldn't help but wonder, considering how much this would probably turn his world around, if it would also help Susanna snap back into reality. He wished he could have been able to pull her back from her void, but apparently he couldn't. He wanted her to come with him, so that she, too, could truly forget about their world of crowns and balls and nobility. Just forget it all.

He no longer cared about Darcy's affair, for being married no longer mattered. Being married wouldn't keep him from traveling and hopefully making a difference. And it would give Darcy and Keith all the time they wanted, without him as a nuisance. Keith had "casually" mentioned making a visit to Telera after the wedding, just to "see what it was like." Ryan had fully supported his idea, leaving them both confused and a little suspicious. He had a feeling that Darcy knew that he was aware of their affair, but he was always disappointed that she couldn't just come out and tell the truth. His whole image of her had shattered; he had thought, back in August, that he had met a perfectly ingenuous, honest girl who would be a wonderful part of his plan to defy his mother and Telera, but now he realized that there was a different way to leave behind his superficial world. He just wished it included Susanna… but he must stop thinking that.

They had met, Darcy and his mother. The queen had actually warmed to her, but whether she was acting or being true didn't matter to Ryan. Darcy had bought into it, at least, proclaiming the queen a "wonderful woman." She didn't seem uncomfortable around the queen at all, even though she was about to lie right in front of her on Sunday when she married Ryan. She would lie in front of everyone, including Keith. But they had probably already talked about it, saying such ridiculous things like "even though I'll say I love him, I really love you," or "when I say I'll be his until death do us part, I'll be thinking of you." What romantic nonsense, he thought.

All he had to do was marry Darcy on Sunday. And then he could leave.

Dear readers (please read this author's note!!!),

What a long-suffering, time-consuming, heavy effort this chapter has been. I apologize deeply for the wait, but you had better like it, or I shall tear my hair out.

I wrote three (three!) different versions of this chapter, and even once I had decided which one I wanted, I revised it over and over and over again. I could have taken it so many different ways, and this was the one I chose, so you had better review and say you like it!

I am very grieved to say that I have also decided that the next chapter will be our last, although I'm sure there will be demands for an epilogue. I just can't stretch it out any longer, but I promise you it will be very long and very fulfilling.

Also, I started combing through the story and refreshing/revising the earlier chapters. I already posted a rejuvenated version of chapter one, so if you ever have a hankering to re-read the story, I'll probably have all the revised chapters up by the time the last chapter is posted. The story won't change, but I was making a timeline of events (I'm a bit of a nitpicker) and I decided I need to add a few things, so if you'd like to see new stuff even once the story is over, come back and reread it in a few weeks.

To those who read The White Rose!!! I am currently perfecting The White Rose, because I was rereading it one day and decided it could be improved. The story won't change a bit, but I felt like it needed some clarifying and some additions. Check my bio page in a few weeks, because I'll tell you when it's posted.

Thanks again for being patient (or perhaps you haven't been patient, for which I apologize again). Let's beat the last chapter, which had a record-breaking 29 reviews, meaning we broke 200!!! Wow! Keep it up!

Love, love, love,

Emma