Page 33 of The King's Secret Baby

I blink at him, surprised. “You have?”

He nods, his expression softening. “Yeah. You’ve just been… preoccupied.”

Guilt twists in my gut. I’ve been so wrapped up in my own drama, I hadn’t even noticed my own best friend’s presence. The last time I remember speaking to him was the day of my father’s funeral.

“Simon, I’m sorry. I’ve been a terrible friend lately.”

He waves a hand, brushing off my apology. “It’s fine, Luca. You’ve got a lot on your plate right now. You have nothing to apologize for.”

But it’s not fine. I should have been there for him, should have made time for him. What kind of king will I be if I can’t even be a good friend?

The thought makes my chest tighten, the weight of my impending responsibilities pressing down on me. I lean against the counter, suddenly feeling exhausted.

“I don’t know if I can do this, Simon. Any of it.”

He steps closer, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “Hey, you’re not in this alone, okay? I’m here for you. And you’re going through a lot right now, man. You just put your dad in the ground, and on top of that…”

He trails off, sparing us both from more talk about the mantle I’m now carrying.

I nod, swallowing past the lump in my throat. “I know. Thanks.”

We lapse into silence, each of us lost in our own thoughts. After a moment, he clears his throat.

“So… you and Hailey, huh?”

I glance at him, my heart skipping a beat at the mention of her name. “What about us?”

“That article… it wasn’t entirely wrong, was it? You may not have noticed me here all week, but I’ve been noticingyou.”

“She’s shadowing me,” I say flatly. “For an article.”

“Uh-huh. I see the way you two look at each other, Luca.”

“Look at each other — like what?” I turn away from him and open the fridge, where there’s most likely to be leftovers. “You should really get a job. Find something to do with your time instead of looking for drama where there isn’t any.”

“Igota job,” he says over my shoulder. “I’m working with my father.”

“Here?” I turn to study him.

“Where else?”

Yet another detail of his life that I’ve recently glossed over. My face burns with shame.

Simon’s father was my father’s financial advisor, which means Dorian is nowmyfinancial advisor. And I guess, officially, Simon now also works for me.

“Don’t worry about it.” He claps a hand on my shoulder. “Let’s just have some of that trifle cake.”

I sigh in relief. He’s too good to me. “Let’s.”

We pull the cake out, grab a couple of spoons, and sit at one of the islands, not bothering to get bowls.

“How are you?” Simon asks. “Really?”

I hesitate, debating how much to tell him. But this is Simon, my closest friend, my confidant. If I can’t be honest with him, whocanI be honest with?

“That photo did tell some truth,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes widen. “You mean…?”

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