Page 83 of The Princess and the Fraud

“No.” He reached for a little plastic carafe sitting on the nightstand, full of water. “I turned it on to drown out your snoring.”

I pressed my lips together as heat crawled up the back of my neck. Ididsnore. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He poured water from the decanter into the cup. “I found quite the perfect cover, didn’t I? The YouTube channel name was quite adorable—Lovely Little Virtuoso.”

I’d been reaching out for the cup of water when his words registered, and I froze. “That—what was?—”

“You performing,” he finished. “You didn’t realize?”

That was why the performance had been familiar. I couldn’t even remember when I’d filmed playing that piece, accompanied by my instructor on the piano. It felt like a lifetime ago. But that wasn’t the most shocking part. Aaron hadlooked it up?

“You told me about your YouTube channel last June, you remember?” A small smile tugged at his mouth. “Told me to look you up if I wanted to hear you play.”

“And you did?” My whispered voice was almost horrified.

“I did.”

My hand shook as I finally took the cup he offered to me, and I held onto my head with the other, feeling that if I took my hand away, it could crack open. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“It never came up.”

Never came up? We’d talked about the cello—aboutmusic—plenty of times. He’d had chance after chance to mention that he’d found my old covers. Had he just watched one or two? Had he watched them all? Oh my gosh, he would’ve seen little Lovisa in all her pimple and braces glory.

Had he been impressed by my playing? Disappointed? I clutched the teddy bear tighter, clamping down on those questions, telling myself I shouldn’t be curious. It didn’t matter. Anything related to the cello… didn’t matter. “I’m sorry for sleeping with your teddy bear,” I said instead, stomach aching.

I almost expected him to appear a bit embarrassed about it—a grown man with a stuffed animal—but he didn’t. “My grandmother gave it to me,” Aaron said. “I never slept well as a child. She’d thought it’d help me. Last night, you needed it more than I did.”

I wanted to hide under the covers and just die there. “What happened?”

Aaron sat back on his heels and watched me take a sip. “Before or after you vomited on my feet?”

I choked as the mental image accompanied his words. It was a crystal-clear memory, me throwing my head down as the alcohol burned its way back up my throat.I threw up on his feet…“After.”

“You threw up a few more times in my bathroom. Once in the tub. It was quite eventful.”

I slapped a hand over my mouth in horror.

And Aaron leaned back. “You aren’t going to throw up again, are you?”

I mutely shook my head.

He seemed to relax. “After that, I gave you mouthwash, you scrubbed your teeth—you used your finger, before you go and get horrified at the idea of using my toothbrush—and you fell into my bed. As the gentleman I am, I slept down here. Which I’m regretting.” He winced as he rolled his neck. “You’d think at a hotel like this, they’d have softer floors.”

Aaron’s shirt was rumpled and buttoned up, and I couldn’t decipher if I remembered it being more undone or if it was my imagination. His hair was tousled, rucked up in the back, and his eyes were still puffy from sleep. In fact, his whole face seemed a little puffy from sleep. It made him look so boyish. So…normal.

I was certain I looked like a trainwreck in comparison.

Aaron stood suddenly, my sluggish mind tracking the movement as he crossed the room to his desk. “I do think I’m owed a bit more of an explanation,” he murmured as he sorted through one of his travel bags that sat there. “Because the housekeeping call I placed at one in the morning is absolutely going to be added to my bill when I check out.”

It’d really beenone in the morningwhen I came knocking on Aaron’s door? Paige and I hadn’t been outthatlate, had we? I was beyond mortified with every single memory that resurfaced. “I’m never drinking again.” My declaration came out as a groan.

“That’s good.” Aaron came over and held out an aspirin bottle. “Because you can’t seem to hold your liquor well.”

I uncapped the pill bottle slowly, feeling guiltier with his simple kindness, especially after everything I’d done yesterday. Not even just throwing up on his feet—ohmygosh I’ll never live this down—but the fact that I’d showed up to his hotel room to insult him. Twice. “Paige wanted to drown her sorrows in alcohol,” I said after I downed the medication, rolling the cup between my fingers. “And I couldn’t let her drink alone.”

“Oh, no, heaven forbid.” Aaron sat down on the edge of the bed, causing it to dip underneath his weight. He studied me. “So you weren’t drinking becauseyouwere upset.”

Honestly? “Maybe a little.” I sucked in a little breath, one that hurt my aching ribs, and I stared down into my water cup. “Yesterday… I shouldn’t have snapped at you like I did. In the hallway. The… first time.”

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