Page 101 of How to Date a Prince

My heart’s thudding away, barely contained in my chest.

“Do you have anything you would like to say about that?”

Thomas shifts, considering. He looks disoriented. Dazed, even. He fidgets with the cuff of his shirt. “It was hard to see Auggie injured,” he said finally. “But I was also so relieved to see him in the days after because he was still himself. It gave me hope. It still does.”

My response is visceral. I barely breathe, hyperfocused. And the idea I gave Thomas hope lifts me, despite everything. Something in me soars, despite feeling lost.

“And to remind our viewers about last week’s results,” Colin says, “we declared Auggie and Thomas the tied winners of the week three Sporting challenge, which left them tied in the overall standings as well. Of course, given His Royal Highness’ injuries, he withdrew from the show. As a result, no one else was sent home that week. We all wish the prince a speedy recovery, and we do miss him wholeheartedly onRenaissance Man.”

I have to say I’m privately smug when Wilson comes across like the arse he is in the recap. He takes no responsibility for crowding us. “I mean, yeah, it was a bad accident. But there wouldn’t be as much fuss if it was me injured rather than a prince. He’s only famous for having been born. Not because he’s done anything useful or cool. Nearly breaking his neck doesn’t count. It’s a shame he was sent off before we could see what he could actually do. And if it weren’t for sympathy points from the judges, I’d be further ahead in the competition.”

“I don’t like him,” Katie says flatly, reaching over to squeeze my hand.

“At least they’ve captured his true nature,” I say wryly. “Authentic Wilson. And—fact—I did break my neck. I suppose that’s not public knowledge.”

“God, Auggie. I hope he loses soundly.”

“I think he makes an excellent villain, and people will love to hate him to the end,” I predict over a handful of crisps like they’re runes. “Fantastic for ratings.”

“Ugh.” Katie shakes her head. “I hope you’re wrong.”

I shrug and crunch down on the pleasingly salty crisps.

She pauses, turning to me, hugging a plush cushion. “Let’s talk about Thomas Golden.”

I wilt, sagging back into the overstuffed sofa. I pretend to hide under the blanket. Katie peers at me.

“You haven’t spoken about him. What happened with him after we talked that first weekend on the show? I haven’t pressed because you haven’t been well, but I think you’re well enough now to face my interrogation, prince boy.”

My face warms. I twist my fingers in the knit blanket. I glance away at a painting of a dead ancestor at least two centuries gone. The lucky arsehole dressed more flamboyantly than I can. “Err?—”

“Before you try to say nothing, it was definitely something,” Katie says archly. “We all know that there was something between you two. Auggie, I’m your best friend in the world. If you can’t talk to me, who else can you talk to?”

I sigh. She has a point. And I want to be more open. Because being closed off certainly hasn’t done me any favors. “Okay. You’re right. It’s—you know how it is, Katie. I’m born to rule. He’s born to, you know, entrepreneur and influence, and obviously, he’s no fan of the monarchy either. We don’t have a compatible path. Plus, there’s the whole marriageable woman situation, in case you’ve forgotten. My father’s on a mission.”

“How did your date with Lady Laura go?” Katie asks pointedly. I did tell her about that.

“Ugh.”

“Which means the pretending to be straight plan is right out the window. You’re miserable at the very idea of marrying a woman. And if you did, that woman ought to be me.” Her eyes sparkle, but she twists the rings on her fingers. My gut twinges because I know she’s covering for the heartache I’ve left her with.

“I’m sorry, Katie…”

Katie waves me off. “Which means… you need to find a new path. And if Thomas matters to you, you need to find a way to at least try.”

“I did…”

“How?”

I cough, blushing as I think of the tell-all confessional I recorded a few weeks ago. “He knows how I feel. And—” My lips twist. “He has an influencer boyfriend now. What’s the point?” I ask, pulling up Instagram on my phone so she can see Adam for herself as proof.

In one of the latest photos, he’s draped himself over Thomas like an accessory, so it’s impossible to deny. For his part, Thomas is missing the spark in his eyes. He leans into Adam, but he doesn’t look quite joyful.

Katie critically examines the photo, then swipes through a few. “Rebound,” she diagnoses after a couple of minutes of close study.

My eyebrows lift. “You get that from these photos?” I never counted on her forensic analysis skills before.

“Not only from the photos. Because I know how incredible you are, and trying to follow up after you would be a big gap. Trust me. I know.”

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