Page 9 of Fake Dating the Prince

Hey sis.

I can’t come.

For a moment he just left it at that and squirmed. He’d lied when he told Flip he got seasick, but the truth was too complicated to explain to a near stranger. Even his family only mostly got it.

Next year we’ll do Christmas in November like we usually do, and I’ll be there. I promise.

That would satisfy her… he hoped.

As for the tuxedo, well, you know how I am about experiencing new things. Turns out someone I know from my flights needed a date to a fancy event here in town and was so desperate he promised to spring for a tux!

Wow, that sounded way different written out than it did in Brayden’s head.

WE ARE NOT HAVING SEX (I totally would, but he’s not interested, and he’s so far out of my league no one would even believe I was his sugar baby). It’s just a favor that sounds fun. Get to see how the other 1 percent lives, you know? Besides, it’s good to have a local guide to recommend things.

Tell everybody I say hi, and don’t you dare forget to bring them my presents.

Brayden

He hit Send, and then he lay in bed for a little longer, staring at the ceiling and feeling sorry for himself. He missed his family, but he couldn’t spend Christmas with them… not yet.

Maybe next year.

Eventually he noticed the time and had to hustle into the shower, where he let the water wash away most of his thoughts. Then he shoved his feet into his boots, wrapped up in his jacket, and grabbed his phone from the nightstand so he could flip open the directions Flip had sent yesterday.

Outside, the sun was out and the sky was a rich, deep blue, as though it knew it had only a few hours to lift people’s spirits and was making the most of them. Brayden checked his map and the time and then stopped for a mug of mulled wine from a vendor, which he sipped as he walked along the cobbled streets.

He turned left to go toward the main square and then took the middle street of three that branched off it in the direction of the water. A few feet later, he was there—a two-story café in a bright pink building. The brass plaque outside read TEMMEL EIS.

Flip’s instructions said to come up to the second floor, so Brayden ducked inside. He noted the cheerful glass display cases and the black-and-white checkered floor as he walked through the café and took the worn stone stairs at the back. Celine, Flip’s driver from yesterday, waited at the door in a smart suit.

“I’m not late, I hope,” Brayden joked as he got to the top of the stairs. Unless his phone was lying to him, he wasn’t.

“His Highness insisted we arrive early,” Celine replied, expressionless. She pulled open the door for him and let him through. “Have a pleasant lunch, sir.” Then she let it fall closed again.

Flip sat at a table by the window, evidently engrossed in something on his tablet. He didn’t seem to register Brayden’s presence until Brayden took the seat opposite him.

Flip looked up with a start, and the tablet clattered to the table. “Brayden. I’m sorry. I was off in my own world. Obviously.” He looked a little upset with himself, and his fingers convulsed into fists and loosened a few times.

“Do you want me to stand up and come back in so you can pull my chair out?” Brayden guessed, and Flip flushed guiltily. “No, that can’t be it. A crown prince can’t be pulling chairs out for plebs like me. And a handshake is too formal, so we’ll have to deal.”

Flip visibly, consciously relaxed. “I suppose you’re right. Did you have a good day sightseeing yesterday, Bernadette’s surprise notwithstanding?”

Brayden gave him a quick rundown of the day, with special emphasis on the lingonberries, and finished with, “How was your commitment on Tuesday? I hope everything turned out okay.”

“Ah, well.” Flip offered a tight smile. “I actually went to visit my cousin. She’s nine. Minor crisis about her wardrobe for tomorrow night, and she needed my backup against her mom and royal tradition.”

Brayden thought about Princess Clara asleep in Flip’s lap, and warmth suffused him. Flip would be a great king one day. “A true hero.”

Flip’s cheeks went a bit pink. That was cute too, that Brayden could make a crown prince blush, when he must be used to flattery. “Even if I did leave the horse in his stall this time?”

“If Clara can forgive it, I can as well.”

“Excellent. With the forgiveness out of the way….” Flip brandished the tablet. “Shall we order lunch?”

Brayden took it and glanced down at the screen to find it was a menu—a strange one, with pictures that looked like familiar dishes, but off somehow. After a moment he realized. “Are these all ice cream?”

“I hope you’re not lactose intolerant,” Flip said as though it had just occurred to him. “I know it’s silly, but I try to come here every time I’m home, even in the winter. This is my first chance now that I’ve moved home permanently. Usually I just come by myself, eat, and leave, but….”

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