Page 37 of Fake Dating the Prince

Flip did, but he wasn’t supposed to admit it out loud. “What did you have in mind?”

“Just follow my lead,” Brayden said, and he slipped his hand into Flip’s and laced their fingers together.

It turned out Brayden didn’t care much for the shooting range—he flinched whenever someone fired and claimed it was too loud even with hearing protection—but his eyes lit up when they toured the obstacle course. Flip didn’t even feel a little bit guilty about asking the CO if Brayden could borrow some workout gear to compete against someone in basic training. The young woman—her shirt said MOREAU on the back—beat him handily, but she grinned widely and shook his hand when he made it to the end.

“He doesn’t seem to mind being beaten by a woman,” the CO commented approvingly.

Flip allowed himself a controlled smile. “Well, he’s been playing board games with Princess Clara all week. He’s used to it by now.”

The film crew was getting the footage of their lives.

That night when he climbed into bed, he was surprised to find his sheets already warm. Brayden must have been watching for the expression of surprise on his face, because he turned onto his side and smiled. “You fidget when your feet are cold, did you know that?”

Flip did know that. It had driven Adrian crazy. Flip hated it too, since he couldn’t sleep with cold toes. He fished around at the foot of the bed and pulled out a Magic Bag that Brayden must have found in one of the cupboards and stuck in the microwave. “Your doing, I presume?

“Just riffing on an old classic.” Brayden grinned. “I mean, I don’t think they put coal warmers in people’s beds anymore. Even if they’re princes.”

In truth, Flip used to do this himself, but he’d been spending so much time in Toronto he’d forgotten he had it. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

Friday Flip visited the children’s hospital.

“You don’t have to come,” he told Brayden. “This visit… I do it because I love the children and it does cheer them, but it isn’t fun or easy. I don’t expect you to come.”

“I’ve come with you everywhere this week,” Brayden pointed out. “All of a sudden I’m going to bail because it’s not fun? What kind of message does that send to kids? I’ll end up in the gossip blogs as a callous, heartless gold digger.”

Flip rolled his eyes. “Since when do you care what the gossip is?” Other than the bit where he insisted on sappy expressions and hand-holding.

“All right, that’s fair. But I’m still not backing out on the kids. I like kids.”

That was what Flip was afraid of. He just hoped Brayden and his big, soft heart came through the day intact.

Their visitor coordinator showed them how to scrub in for the general wards first—for this part of the visit they could wear their own clothes. Brayden followed directions assiduously, but he was largely silent while Elin went through a list of dos and don’ts. He almost seemed to be bracing himself for something. At least this time he paid no mind to the film crew.

Flip wanted to put a hand on his back for comfort, but he’d been listening to Elin’s directions too, and he was trying not to touch things if he didn’t have to.

The first children they visited weren’t chronically ill, just laid up with tonsillitis, appendicitis, a broken leg, or another relatively minor childhood affliction. Flip chatted with them and posed for selfies while Brayden played video games with them or charmed their parents.

“He seems like a nice young man,” Elin commented as Brayden started a rock-paper-scissors tournament with the twin five-year-old siblings of one of the patients.

People kept saying that like it surprised them, but they approved. “He is,” Flip agreed, and he wondered if it weren’t his own heart he ought to worry about.

As Elin led them down the hall to the next ward, Brayden fell into step next to Flip. “So health care in this country,” he began.

“Single-payer, tax-funded. Sometimes the lines in the waiting rooms do get long.” He glanced over. “We do have astronomically high taxes here, or so the Americans would say.”

Brayden shrugged that off. “You get what you pay for, right? I mean, the security of knowing your medical bills won’t bankrupt you—that’s worth it for your people, so it’s the right thing. And hey, I’m Canadian. I’m used to lines.”

The children in the next ward were very ill, which meant a longer scrubbing-in and actual gowns, masks, and gloves that had to be changed between each room.

“No outside cameras for this part, huh?” Brayden said as he tied the back of Flip’s robe. “I’m kind of relieved. This is not my color.”

“I don’t know that anyone can really pull off this shade of yellow. What would you call it? ‘Pastel vomit’?”

Brayden finished tying and turned around so Flip could do the same for him. “We should ask Bernadette.”

“Mmm,” Flip agreed.

This part of the hospital tended to be pretty bleak. Flip didn’t like to ask people to fake hope they might not feel for the sake of PR.

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