Page 114 of Royally Rivalled

“And you because you want to see Niall.”

Amara shrugged. “Meh. Yes, of course, I want to see him in a tuxedo, but I want to see you reunited more—we both do.”

“Why do you care?”

“Because you are my bestie,” Amara said. “Because I love you and want you to be happy.”

“You two concocted this whole plan?”

“This morning, he rang me, and we came up with it. I packed a bag while you were at the gym.”

“For me?”

Amara nodded.

“You sneaky bitch!”

“You’ll appreciate it tomorrow when you’re not driving back in an evening gown. And Parker will appreciate the neckline on this thing.”

I facepalmed. “So,that is what you were on about!”

We rode south for what seemed like forever. I drank to cope with my nerves, worried that Parker would turn me away the moment I arrived.

“What if he doesn’t want to see me?”

“He will. He is desperate to see you, darling. Niall worries about him. He’s terrified to go through the night alone.”

“His mother?—”

“Fuck her. It’s Parker’s house. She can feel however she wants, but Parker owns the estate. What he says goes. Just like with your sister, I would imagine.”

I nodded.

“I cannot handle any more rejection from him,” I said. “I am so hurt, Amara. All I want is for my life to return to normal—whatever that means.”

“You want to be back with Parker,” Amara said. “That’s what it means. And you will be. Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” I answered. “But Parker is complicated.”

“So are you. I don’t see this going south. He loves you. He’d do anything for you—even this, darling.”

I hoped Amara was right. My heart couldn’t take any more. I knew love was hard. I suspected Parker also felt lost. I believed fighting for him was worth it, even if the wait killed me. We were both so prone to argument, and I worried we both might end up screaming before we got down to a rational discussion. However, as Rick suggested, we’d need to learn to work through it. I just hoped we could.

sixty-three

PARKER

I strayedfrom every conversation I could. My mother was ready to strangle me. My sisters kept trying to pull me back in. Dinner was at half-eight and cake at half-nine. If I could hold on until then, I’d tick all the boxes and could disappear. My mother insisted on trotting me around like a prized showjumper. The women she introduced me to were pretty and well-bred. Some were even charming. None were as lovely, pretty, or funny as Astrid. I compared everyone to her. It pained me to think of ending the evening without her at this great big party. She was the only reason I agreed to it. I wanted to show her a good time and knew she’d like a big to-do.

“I was at Oxford,” said an Earl’s daughter—a brunette with legs for days.

I should have wanted her. I didn’t.

“Oh, good,” I said. “And what did you study?”

“Art History.”

Ah, the ultimate degree for ladies who lunch.

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