A/N: This chapter tackles the topics of infidelity, domestic abuse, and continues with the fallout of the ballet. If any of this is triggering for you, please read with caution. Like with the bowling chapter, this chapter pushes the T-rating starting after the line, "Elodie had a feeling that Jordan Reinhardt was going to keep surprising her". Skipping this content will not impact your understanding of current/future events.

The Thing About Infidelity

The thing about infidelity was that it always hurt, no matter how much you knew, or how long it went on for.

Elodie thought the hurt would stop blindsiding her. She thought she was immune to feeling any kind of way about Brayden or Felix or the combination of Brayden AND Felix. And then things like watching her brother deck her husband on prime time television happened to remind her that she was still very much susceptible to feelings of betrayal, hurt, anger.

There was a lot of anger.

Essie made things better.

How easy it must be to be a child, Elodie thought as she watched her daughter play. They'd been up in the playhouse, away from the world, for the whole day. Essie played house, cooking them plastic toast and tucking her baby dolls in for naps while the 'adults' (aka she and Essie) were allowed to watch the 'late night programs that Uncle Kasey always laughed at but says I'm too young to see'. Essie's words, not Elodie's, and Elodie made a note to talk to her brother about many, many things.

There was only so long this bubble of peace could last before it popped. Essie was a smart girl; she knew something was wrong, even if she didn't have the words to ask. But Elodie didn't want to think about that. She didn't have the capacity to think any further past when Essie's baby dolls would 'wake up' from their nap.

"Knock knock," Jordan said and knocked on the wall, his body half way up the ladder. "Can I come up?"

Elodie knew that if she asked, he would respect her wishes and climb right back down, leaving her to her misery. But she didn't want to be alone. So, she nodded and Jordan completed the climb, ducking his head so he didn't hit it on the low beams.

Gone were the expensive suits and ties, replaced with a soft henley and worn denim jeans. His hair was a little unruly, the curls sticking out of place, and he wore some stupid socks decorated with bacon and eggs. Elodie could close her eyes and almost believe they were sixteen again.

"Jordan!" Essie squealed, a light of sunshine in the gloom of the attic pitch.

Jordan kneeled down and let Essie tackle him into a hug which turned into more of a strangle once Essie got her arms around his neck. Thankfully she let go before she cut off all his oxygen. Something about Jordan's smile, whole and content, made Elodie think that he wouldn't have mind.

"Are you here to play dolls with me?" she asked, dark eyes wide and shining like they did when she wanted something. She handed over her baby doll, the one with the curly blonde hair that actually cried when you pressed a button on its butt. Essie loved that baby doll, had begged for it for weeks before Dad had caved and bought it for her, unaware that it was sitting wrapped under the Christmas tree. She never parted with it. But there she was, handing it over to Jordan with enthusiasm.

It dawned on Elodie: Essie liked Jordan. She liked Jordan enough to trust him with her most prized possession.

"Not today, but tomorrow, definitely," Jordan promised, which earned him a pout instead of full waterworks. "I am actually here for your Mom."

"Mommy's sad, and she won't say why," Essie whispered loudly, staring right at Elodie like she wanted her to hear all along. Whispering was a bad habit; the words were on the tip of Elodie's tongue, ready to correct bad behaviors. But then, Essie said, "I don't like it when she's sad, and she's sad alllll the time."

That...that broke Elodie's heart.

"What time is it?" Elodie asked Jordan, eyeing his watch - designer, gold faced, leather strap. The one she'd gifted him for his twenty-first birthday. She had left her phone on her bedside table. Leaving it behind for the first time in...well...ever was shockingly easier than she expected.

Jordan looked at his wrist. "Half past eight."

Elodie sighed and looked at Essie. "Playtime's over cariña. Time for bed."

"But Jordan just got here!" Essie pouted. She crossed her arms over her baby and pushed out her bottom lip.

"Maybe tomorrow." There wouldn't be time to play tomorrow. It was acceptable for Elodie to pull a stunt like this for a day, but she had responsibilities. Even if she didn't want to face them. Even if she would rather spend the rest of her life in this attic.

"Race you to your room," Jordan dared Essie, then took off down the stairs.

Essie shrieked with joy and followed him, her little legs moving with frightening speed. Any other day and Elodie would tell her daughter to slow down, to be careful, that she'd trip. Not tonight. Tonight she thanked Jordan for taking the reins and allowing her a peaceful, solitary walk to Essie's room.

By the time Elodie reached the room, Essie was already in the bathroom brushing her teeth. Jordan stood behind her, pulling her hair out of messy pigtailed braids and brushing out the curls so there'd be no tangles. Essie tried to tell Jordan a story through a mouthful of toothpaste, and Jordan, bless him, actually looked interested as he nodded along.

Elodie leaned against the doorframe and watched, her heart constricting, swelling at the sight. Jordan caught her gaze in the mirror briefly, smiled, then went back to detangling Essie's bird nest.

The sink cut off and Essie came bounding back into the room. She looked up at Elodie with wide, dark eyes.

"Can I wear the princess dress to bed?"

"Sure baby."

Elodie walked over to the dresser and pulled a long pink nightgown out of the top drawer. Essie called it her princess dress because it had classic Disney princess printed on the top. Jasmine was Essie's favorite, and it took bribing Disney Land to get her something with that specific princess front and center. It was Essie's favorite piece of clothing, and would probably wear it everywhere. It only sweetened the deal that the nightgown was a gift from her father.

Essie raised her hands in the air and allowed Elodie to undress, then redress her in the nightgown. After doing multiple twirls to show Jordan how her skirt poofed out just like a real princess (never mind that Essie was a real princess), she was ready to crawl under the sheets and let herself be tucked in. Tucking Essie in was always Felix's favorite thing to do; he never let Essie go to bed without saying her prayers and a kiss to the forehead, letting her know just how loved she was. Even when her mother wasn't.

"Goodnight cariña," Elodie said, pulling up the sheets and kissing both Essie's cheeks and her forehead for good measure. "Love you."

"Love you too Mama," Essie sighed and rolled over to her side. She was out before Elodie turned off the light switch and shut the door.

Elodie's own room was the next door down. Felix's was somewhere on the other end of the hall. They preferred separate sleeping arrangements these days. It gave Elodie much more peace of mind not knowing what time her husband wandered back into bed instead of watching the clock blink down the hours until he returned drunk and smelling like someone else's perfume.

Inside her suite, Elodie kicked off her shoes and stripped off her sweater, leaving on the camisole underneath and her skirt. The thermostat showed an internal temperature of sixty-eight, but her whole body flushed like she stood in the middle of the beach on a summer day. Maybe she was working herself sick. Maybe it was because Jordan had followed her inside and watched her strip half-naked, and she only just became aware of his eyes laser-focused on her...and the bruises that still hadn't faded, now noticeable without the protection of layers.

"I need to figure out a way to tell her. She deserves to hear it from me, not from the TV," Elodie said, filling the silence with something useful. If she could talk this out, if she could have someone else rationalize things for her, maybe the overwhelming reality of her life crashing in around her wouldn't feel so scary.

"She's a strong little girl, just like her mother. She'll be fine."

"She shouldn't have to be strong," Elodie snapped, immediately regretting it but unable to stop the anger rising inside her. "She shouldn't have to worry about what the world might say about her. She should get the chance to have a normal life like any other girl."

"But she's not any other girl," Jordan said oh so gently. "And you're not any other mother."

"No. I'm just the future heir and laughing stock of the entire country," Elodie sighed, rubbing at her temples. Her reputation was officially in the toilet, but that was a crisis for another day. "How bad is it?"

A rhetorical question. Elodie knew how bad it was. She had to silence her phone in the first thirty minutes of waking up that morning due to the non-stop influx of notifications, Illéan Post articles, and the number one trending hashtag: #WeStandWithElodie.

Her first instinct was to call an emergency press conference to set the story straight. These things were always easier the faster they were cleaned up and filed away. Leave these things out to linger and that's when the rumors started, and rumors were as good as truth when it came to the royals. Everyone wanted whatever scrap of fact or fiction they could get their hands on in the hopes of making it big. But after the initial panic died down and the first twenty phone calls from friends and family alike were sent to voicemail and texts from her father asking, "What's going on?" and texts from her mother wondering, "Are you alright?" were swiftly deleted, Elodie had time to think.

Too much time to think.

Elodie never did like spending too much time in her head for the same reason she didn't like standing still or empty agendas: she was forced to realize how tired she was. She was so, so tired of being the only one fighting for them. And for what? For the crown? For a family that would betray her in this way, humiliate her so publicly? It was pathetic.

For the first time, she questioned if she even wanted to save her marriage.

"It's been worse," Jordan said. Elodie snorted in lieu of calling Jordan a liar, but that only spurred Jordan to add, "Mom said something about if this place could survive New Years then it could survive a 'bit of fisticuffs.'"

"Bit of fisticuffs? Seriously?"

"Hey, the royal family used to survive rebel attacks. You can survive this."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better? No one died so I should be grateful my marriage is imploding before my eyes and the eyes of the entire world?"

It was an unfair comparison. Elodie shouldn't belittle the terrible, horrible things that her family suffered before she was even born. But she was at the center of this metaphorical bomb, and she felt entitled to some bitterness.

"We both know Kase. He wouldn't just do something like this without good reason," Jordan said, trying to appeal to the middle ground.

"So now you're defending him?"

He had a point. As angry as Elodie was at her stupid, idiot brother, she knew he wasn't the type to strike without provocation. The thing was, Felix always provoked Kase. Felix took a breath too loudly and Kase wanted to duct tape his mouth shut. Kase should have known better, should have stayed out of it, should have gone to the ballet solo. He should have done a lot of things.

"I'm not defending anyone. I'm just trying to see things from both sides. Your family is my family too, and I'm concerned. Does this...does this have anything to do with what I saw in the hall the other week?" Jordan asked gently, too gently, like he knew he shouldn't have asked at all.

"Jordan..."

This was heading dangerously into unstable territory, and Elodie didn't want to have another argument, not tonight, and not with Jordan.

"I'm serious, Ells. This is affecting everyone now. It's not just you." He sighed and ran his hand across the top of his head, as if debating whether or not to say more. "I have three journalists from the Times calling me for an exclusive interview, asking me if I'm 'conducting an affair with the Crown Princess of Illéa'."

"What?" Elodie sucked in a breath, her head spinning. Just when this couldn't get any more complicated...

"Seems like my recent landslide election and trip west aligned perfectly with revelations that the Princess's husband has also been unfaithful," Jordan recited, too scripted and detached to be his words. The reporter's, then, trying to get a reaction out of him. "They wanted to know how long it's been going on. When I declined to comment, they started calling my office."

Horror swept through Elodie like a fire, burning through her cheeks. "Jordan, I'm so sorry, I don't know what to say - "

Jordan reached out and place both hands on her shoulders, grounding her. There was something safe about his touch, something secure, unlike the inherent danger that came with Felix. Jordan wouldn't hurt her. Jordan cared about her so much. Sometimes, when he looked at her, she swore he even lov-

"It's fine, Ells. I expected it, and I don't mind it if it takes some of the heat off of you."

Tears flooded Elodie's eyes. All the emotions that she had brutally beat back came welling up to the surface. She didn't deserve to have someone like Jordan in her life. She didn't deserve his kindness. It was cruel of her to drag him down into her mess and taint him with scandal when he was trying to get his fledgling career up off the ground.

She was a Schreave. All she did was ruin things, ruin people. It was in her blood.

And her secret fear: maybe she was the one to ruin Felix, ruin her marriage, ruin her life after all.

"I really loved him."

Jordan grimaced, but he kept holding on. "I know."

"No, you don't know," Elodie lashed out without meaning, her emotions too volatile to filter. She stepped away from Jordan towards the window and started pacing. "You were gone for eight years. You were gone for all the good parts, all the movie nights and sunsets and dinners and bouquets of flowers. All you've seen is this-this farce of a marriage. All you've seen is me, running around like a goddamn chicken with my head cut off, trying to get any shred of attention from my husband who has clearly moved on. I'm such a fucking idiot - "

"Hey, stop that." Jordan intercepted Elodie's path and took her hands into his own so she would stop clawing at the invisible buttons at her wrists. He stroked over the skin of her knuckles, soothing the red marks. "There is nothing idiotic about trying to save your marriage. You've got Essie, and the crown..."

"The fucking crown..." Elodie groaned and pulled at her hair. She was going to be missing whole chunks by the morning. "How am I going to explain this to Mom and Dad? How am I going to explain this to the world?"

"You don't have to explain anything to anyone." The tone of Jordan's voice, so strong and so sure, stopped Elodie from rambling over him. Maybe, just maybe, if she listened to him, he would have the answers. He gripped her tighter so she couldn't pull away. "You have a whole team of lawyers and PR people who can handle the logistics. Explaining things to the world, however and whenever you want to go about that, is their job. The only thing you have to do right now is breathe and let yourself feel whatever it is you're not letting yourself feel."

"It's not that easy."

"Why can't it be?"

"Because I don't know what I'm feeling."

"Try to explain it to me."

Elodie wanted to laugh. It might have been easier for her to explain quantum physics or the mysteries of the universe.

"I want to hate him, and I do, but the next minute I can't. And I still love him, so much my heart aches with it. It hurts, seeing him on the TV with...with her. I want to hate her, but I can't because I know what he's like and I know it's no different. And I want to hate him for that. I want to leave him, but then I remember a family vacation or a time he made me smile and I can't bring myself to do it, all at the same time. And part of me..."

Elodie swallowed, hesitated. She shouldn't say anything. She should keep her damn mouth shut. But keeping her mouth shut still landed her in this mess. Besides, this was Jordan. Jordan wouldn't judge her. He wouldn't.

"Part of you what?" he asked, nudging gently, urgently.

"Part of me is relieved. I'm relieved that it's over. That I don't have to hide everything, that I don't have to pretend that everything's okay. And that's terrifying. Because if I'm relieved that means I'm giving up, that I'm throwing away all this time and this effort I spent making sure that everything was absolutely perfect - " Elodie gasped for breath, through her tears. "But it's not perfect. I'm not perfect. I'm...I'm a fucking mess and I'm so tired, Jordan. I've done everything, given everything, and I'm so tired."

Before she could fall to her knees and break down completely, Jordan was there, pulling her into his arms and holding her close to his chest. He was the perfect height to rest his chin atop her head, her own head tucked into his neck, her ear against his heart. The steady, quick thump of it drowned out her own turbulent thoughts, the sound of her sobs, the ugly sniffling of her nose.

"No one could have done more. No one could have been more," Jordan said, trying to assure her.

Elodie pulled away just far enough that she could look at him properly. "Then why doesn't he love me anymore?"

Jordan's face darkened for just a moment, a flash of something angry and then it was gone, replaced with nothing but admiration and affection. "Because he's a damn fool."

Her emotions swelled and crashed into one another, putting her heart at odds with her head, a mess of tangled signals and desires. Everything was ruined, her heart breaking in her chest and yet, there it was swelling twice its size because of Jordan. Jordan who was wonderful with Essie and endlessly compassionate. Jordan who didn't mind the snot running down her nose or the puffy redness of her eyes. Jordan who would let the press write heinous lies about him in order to make her safety...heinous lies that no longer seem so heinous now that Elodie was wrapped in the warmth and safety of his arms.

Suddenly, she was sixteen again and they're dancing on the balcony at New Years. Suddenly, she was eighteen and going off to college, hugging him harder, longer so that they won't ever be apart. Suddenly, she was nineteen and asking him to be her man of honor because she can't imagine getting married without her best friend by her side, secretly imagining it were him she were meeting down the aisle. Suddenly, she was twenty-one and wishing Jordan could hold Essie so she could have any excuse to make him her godfather. Suddenly, she was twenty-eight and sweating through a red velvet evening gown, laying eyes on a man she hasn't seen in years yet still made her smile despite all the dark days.

Elodie couldn't stop it: she leaned up on her toes and kissed him.

She didn't know why she did it, encouraged by some years-old compulsion. Maybe it was the way Jordan was looking at her. Maybe it was the safety of his embrace or the comfort of something familiar. All she knew was that the moment her lips met his, everything just felt right.

Jordan held her closer, tighter. His hands came up to frame her face, fingers slipping into the loose strands of her hair and simply holding. Not pulling, not yanking, but gently tilting her head to the side so he could kiss her longer, deeper. Her heart stuttered, pressing so hard against her ribcage she thought it might break free.

Then, there were footsteps in the hall, close enough to hear right outside. And if she could hear them, they could definitely hear her -

Elodie pulled away, breaking the kiss with a shuddering breath.

"I'm sorry," Elodie gasp, horrified that she had just done that. "I'm so, so sorry, I-I shouldn't have -"

- shouldn't have a lot of things. Shouldn't have kissed you, shouldn't have called you in the middle of the night to throw this burden on you, shouldn't have let you touch me like this, shouldn't have let so many years go by without talking, shouldn't have let you go at all.

"You should go," she said, her voice soft as a whisper. Any louder and she might shatter the fragile, remaining stilts of normality.

She didn't want him to go. She wanted him to stay more than anything. Watching him turn his back on her without a word, silently accepting the reality of her reaction, squeezed her aching, bleeding heart to a pulp. But she wasn't thinking clearly. She was in distress. Even if her marriage was failing, she was still married. She had a husband and a daughter. She had responsibilities. Jordan had a career. He was her subordinate. They had a lifetime of memories at risk. All of this was wildly inappropriate.

Jordan was half way to the door when he said, "I've been in love with you since I was sixteen."

That stopped her in her tracks.

Elodie turned around slow, like this was all in her head and he wouldn't be there when she looked. But there he was, face carefully neutral, ever the politician. So, so careful, except for his eyes which were large and glassy and round, watching her like she was the most important thing in the world.

"Sixteen," Elodie repeated, dumbfounded. The world had ceased to make sense as soon as her lips touched his, but this was what made her head spin. "But...you never said anything. You never entered the Selection."

"I didn't want to risk it - our friendship, our families friendship, everything. It was easier to stay away." Jordan swallowed, the words thick in his throat, but he didn't look away. "I never entered the Selection because I couldn't bear it if you didn't pick me. I couldn't stay and watch you fall in love with someone else. It would hurt too much. And I was right."

"But I would have. I would have picked you," Elodie said without thinking, without weighing the consequences. For the first time, she simply let herself feel what, deep down, she had always felt. "It's true that I love Felix. I think part of me always will, but...I loved you first, and I love you still. It's always been you, Jordan. Always."

They had already kissed. She knew how he felt. It shouldn't have come as a surprise when he kissed her again. But it did, and Elodie had a feeling that Jordan Reinhardt was going to keep surprising her.

Jordan kissed her like he would die before he got the chance, desperate and deep and all-consuming. Elodie's head spun, and she clung to the back of his sweater, clutching at the fabric and pulling it up over his head. She had seen him without his shirt before thanks to years of pool parties and beach trips, but this was different. This time, she was allowed to touch. His skin was as hot as hers, burning under hungry fingers. It amazed her that someone so strong could be so gentle. Felix had strength, and he only used it to hold her down and overpower her.

But Elodie didn't want to think about Felix right now. How could she, with Jordan's mouth working its way down her neck, leaving stinging, delicious little bites across her collarbone?

Straps slipped down her shoulders, exposing her body. She shivered, but not because of the cold. Her whole body was on fire, soothed only by Jordan's touch. His hands grabbed at her waist, steered her towards the bed until the backs of her knees hit the edge.

She was falling, but she wasn't scared. Jordan would catch her. He always did.