Page 49 of Romeo vs Romeo

“Oh?” Bradley said, lifting his eyebrows curiously. I guessed that being a bartender was an easy way to believe everyone drank a little.

“It’s…religious,” I said. Not that I was particularly devout, but Father was.

“We have nonalcoholic cocktails,” Bradley said casually.

“I’ll think about it,” I said, but I knew the answer without having to deny what was just a friendly invitation. It was good to be invited. These guys always invited me, even if it was just politeness. They were way better than any of the sons of my father’s friends in that regard. Besides, I knew that they were my tribe, even if I had no plans on ever, ever saying that out loud.

I had my hot chocolate, thanked Bradley for making it, and offered to pay, only to get a very firm “out of the question, Zain.” Before I could leave, Tristan said, “We have a big brunch on Sunday. Come around and try some stuff. It’s all your produce.” He cracked a wide grin.

“I might,” I said, feeling the tug of temptation, but I knew I shouldn’t. My father didn’t look into the individual businesses that he supplied. It probably never crossed his mind to wonder about this place. He had met Vivien only once and spoke to her over the phone on rare occasions, more often than not dealing with the chefs instead. He probably didn’t know that all the boys here kissed boys and all the girls kissed girls. And I would rather be damned than be the reason he found out. So long as he lived in blissful ignorance, I had the freedom to come here alone and drop off the orders. From time to time, a cute guy would sit at the bar, and he would look at me with something like a measuring gaze.

And that would make me almost as happy as I was on quiet winter afternoons when no customers interrupted my endless reading sessions behind the cash register.

Cedric

My fingers trembled as I dressed into my best clothes. The goal was to be tastefully formal; in fact, I needed to be easily picked out as a royal without actually wearing a dreadful uniform.

My shirt was white and crisp, and my pants were so dark brown that they were close to black. My pointy brogue boots were ankle-deep, letting me inject a touch of playfulness with a pair of light orange socks that were bound to draw attention. My golden hair was styled much the same way it would have been for any event back home.

Since I had returned to New York with Tristan, I had known that my free time would have to end. The deal I had made with my older brother, Alexander, was that I would perform some of my princely duties from a base in New York City. At some point, the Valois Montclair family would try to strengthen its brand by working closely with the cultural sectors in countries all around the world, and New York City was as good a place to start this effort as any.

My brother, who was set to inherit the throne at a hopefully very distant point in the future, had imagined Verdumont collaborating with museums, galleries, and theaters, which would fall under the umbrella of my duties. I could hardly imagine Alexander Louis Valois Montclair, the Crown Prince of Verdumont, giddy with excitement that my first official event asour country’s representative was about to be a very gay brunch followed by a drag show.

The conversation I had on Thursday with Alexander, my father, and my younger siblings was tense at best. Father remained neutral, even though he had been considering this event for well over a week of back-and-forth between us, and Alexander had taken Father’s reluctance to help as an endorsement for his own position. “Cedric, you are risking the image of the entire family with this stunt,” my brother had said. Thankfully, my younger sister, Sophia, interjected with more reason. “The twenty-first century had been around for twenty years, Alex. Don’t you think it’s time to join it?”

My brother feared the abandonment of tradition, but my younger siblings were tradition-wreckers as much as I had always been. “We need to redefine,” Maximilian had added. “It’s the only way to remain relevant.”

“And it’s theright thing to do,” Sophia had insisted.

Max agreed heartily, which warmed my heart to hear. After I had left Verdumont in a fit of panic to delay my pending engagement to Marchioness Élodie de Beaumont, Maximilian had stepped up to entertain our guest, and the two had fallen in love. The stars rarely aligned so well for one single person, but they saved four people in just one month. The twist of fate meant that I was free of the engagement our families had arranged, yet the alliance remained through my younger brother. It also meant that all four of us would be infinitely happier with our partners.

By the end of the phone call, Alexander yielded enough. I would present myself to a gathering of invited journalists at the Sunday brunch in Neon Nights, promoting my efforts to preserve the heritage of the bar for its cultural significance. If I hurt our family’s standing too badly, Alexander would never let me live it down. What I had hoped for—and Imight have been delusional to hope for it in the first place—was out of the question. The Crown Prince could not attend an overseas ceremony at a run-down bar. I should be thankful that Alexander wasn’t going to wash his hands of this business publicly. He hadn’t said it like that, but that had been the short of it.

“My love,” Tristan said, stepping into my dressing room and letting his gaze trail my entire figure shamelessly. “Do we have time for me to tear your clothes off?”

I extended my arm, and he took my hand. “After,” I promised.

He picked up on the tiniest tone of uncertainty in that one word better than I did. “You’re going to dazzle them, baby,” he said. “Who wants to share the spotlight with Alex anyway?”

That made me laugh. I would have appreciated the support of my family at the moment of coming out, but I would have Tristan, which was better anyway. He was my family. He was the person I chose to build my life with.

Tristan wore a white shirt with an intricate, pale blue pattern and a dark green suit we had ordered to be custom-made. His shoes were double-strap monks for a more casual look.

“You look spectacular,” I said, holding him close against my body. “I don’t think I ever loved you more than I do right now.”

Tristan smiled. “You say that every day.”

“And every day, it’s truer than the day before,” I replied before I kissed him.

Tristan had prepared the menu for the brunch and was nearly committed to working behind the scenes until we finalized my appearance. Then, knowing I would need him, he dropped everything and came to stand by my side.

Thirty minutes later, Tristan and I were sitting in the black limo that was gliding down the closed street toward Neon Nights. In front of the bar, a crowd had already gathered. Theappearance of a foreign royal was just juicy enough for those idle enough to show up and see it for themselves. Journalists, passersby, and regular visitors of Neon Nights alike crowded across the street from Neon Nights, and before the entrance, there was a small area for photo ops and a brief speech that I had committed to my memory.

“Are you ready?” I whispered to Tristan as the car slowed down to a halt.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” he said.

We stepped out of the car, holding our breaths, and were met with cheers and applause. The speculation that had been flying around in the last four days since announcing this appearance was finally confirmed. Yes, the Verdumont prince was gay. Yes, he was here to introduce himself together with his partner. Why else would he visit Neon Nights?

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