She went back to the hotel and watched it all on TV on the replays. Jonathan called her, and the queen, and Anthony’s father, and told her how incredible she had been. Anthony didn’t call, and she realized now that it probably was over, but she wasn’t sorry, even though she loved him. She hadn’t given up her dream.
She flew back to England the next day, and had a hero’s welcome at the stables when she got back to Newmarket.
The queen had sent a car and driver for her to take her back to the stables, and she came to see her the next day. She hugged Annie when she saw her, and told her how proud she was of her. She was as excited as Annie, and knew how proud Charlotte would have been of her.
“How’s Anthony?” the queen asked with a worried look.
“He’s not,” Annie said quietly. “He said that if I went, it was over with us. So I guess it is.” She looked sad about it, but she didn’t regret it, and her aunt nodded.
“He might get over it,” she said gently.
“Maybe not,” Annie said. “But I couldn’t give it up for him. I waited too long for this.”
“I’m glad you didn’t,” Alexandra said quietly. “You’d have regretted it all your life, and resented him for it.” The owner had accepted the trophy for her. No one could take away the records she’d broken, or the victory she’d had with Ginger Boy. Winning first place had been incredible.
* * *
—
After the queen left, Annie got a call from the owner of a horse farm in Virginia. He wanted her to ride his horse in the Kentucky Derby next year if female jockeys were admitted, and it looked as though they would be. She accepted on the spot.
She called Jonathan and told him that night and asked him to go with her, if she rode in the Derby next year. She was on a high now, and Anthony was still lodged in her heart like a glass splinter, but she didn’t have to give any of it up now, and she couldn’t. He was right.
She called Anthony the day after she got back from Kentucky, but he didn’t pick up, and he didn’t call her. She called him at his office, and they said he was in a meeting. And he didn’t return that call either. So she had her answer. She had won a major female racing victory in horseracing history, but lost her man. He had said it would be that way, and he was sticking to it. He knew what he wanted and so did she. But she couldn’t let him control her or force her to give up her dreams. It would have been so wrong. In the end, her being a princess hadn’t done them in, but her being a jockey had.
* * *
—
She saw him in the paper the next day, at a party with a famous model. She was wrapped around him like a snake. So he had gone back to his old life. And she had too. The life where the only thing that mattered was the horses, and now the victories. It hurt seeing him in the papers, but not as much as giving up the race would have. She couldn’t let him cheat her of this, and she hadn’t.
She saw him in the papers again a week later with a different girl. The owner who had asked her to ride for him next year in the Kentucky Derby flew to London to meet her. She saw Anthony in the papers again with a Hollywood starlet in London to promote her new movie. They’d gone dancing at Annabel’s. Somehow the thrill of the women he was presumably sleeping with didn’t seem equal to the race she had won, or racing in the Kentucky Derby, whether she won or lost next year. She hoped he was happy, but doubted that he was. His were hollow victories. She still loved him, and she missed him. She had wanted to share this with him, but not in a million years would she give this up for him. She couldn’t.
She had dinner with Anthony’s father at his house two weeks after she got home. He congratulated her and they talked about the race for half an hour, and then he told her how sorry he was about her and Anthony.
“So am I,” she said sadly. “I just couldn’t give it up for him, and he wouldn’t settle for anything less. It was all or nothing.”
“That’s how life is sometimes,” he said. “You did the right thing. There are some things you can’t compromise and shouldn’t. This was one of them. My son is a stubborn man, and a fool sometimes. We all are, I suppose. You’re worth a million of these idiots he runs around with, or used to. I’m sorry to see him go back to that.” Not as sorry as she was. But not sorry enough to back down and give it up.
“So am I,” she said softly.
“He’ll regret it,” his father said. It was small consolation.
“Maybe not. Maybe we just weren’t meant to be.”