Page 29 of How to Date a Prince

“I need to get back to London,” Thomas says abruptly, running his hands through his hair. He looks uncertainly at me again. “Why are you here still here? Do you live on the estate now?”

I laugh. “No. Waiting for my ride. Which should be here by now.” I check my phone, on silent, and sure enough, there’s a message from Nick letting me know they’re ready.

“Okay. Well, thanks for the badger help? I didn’t expect you to be levelheaded about that.” He’s uncharacteristically flustered. “Badgers, I admit, are not my strong suit.”

“Any time you have badger problems, you know who to call.” Beside me, the crew laughs. When Thomas gives another surprised laugh too, I can’t help the smile that comes as we go our separate ways for the weekend. Which makes the idea of coming back next week a lot more bearable.

ChapterTwelve

In the back of the car on the way to London, at last my shoulders ease. It’s late June, and the sun’s making an effort today over England, and it’s beautiful. The green rolls on forever, through broad pasture and distant woodlands. It makes me miss the expanse of Sandringham, and especially Balmoral, where I can go out alone for hours of hillwalking.

I scroll through various texts, with schedules for the weekend and the week ahead. As forecast, I’ll have Buckingham Palace to myself with my family away.

About ten minutes after I leave Katie another voicemail message, she texts back.

I’m up for talking if you are.

How’s tonight? Would you like to have dinner in? I ask.

7 p.m.?

Perfect. Please come to the palace.

She sends a thumbs-up emoji.

I’m not brave enough to suggest drinks because that’s what got us into trouble last time. And me at last New Year’s with Anne and Gav, when Gav and I looked at each other for a moment too long and Anne spotted us in Katie’s kitchen.

As we approach London, my shoulders tighten again. We wind through rush-hour traffic into the city. In the end, we take a detour to an accident on a key motorway. By the time we reach the palace, I’ve been in the car for more than a couple of hours, and I’m ready to stretch my legs.

At the palace, I have a quick workout. I run as hard as I can on the treadmill, lift weights, do a stretch cooldown. I’ve missed working out this week, in my dedicated avoidance of the other contestants. I can’t imagine facing Wilson in the weight room. Instead, each morning, I did push-ups and crunches in my room, where no one could see me. On a couple of the evenings, I walked around the property, shadowed alternatively by Alice or Nick, ever vigilant.

A shower later, I’m dressed for dinner in a soft plum merino jumper and jeans. Katie arrives in a navy dress, her hair up. She looks great as ever, except she still has the same worry in her eyes when she sees me.

We hug and exchange air-kisses before we look at each other. She bites her lip and struggles to look at me.

“I’m glad you’re here,” I tell her. “I’m so sorry. And I’ve missed you.”

She gives me a half smile at that. “Of course you did. I’m wonderful.”

“You are.” I offer my arm, and she accepts.

We go to a small dining room, much more intimate than where we host state banquets and other regal affairs. There’s a pale coffered ceiling overhead with an elaborate crystal chandelier, deep burgundy walls, ornate artwork of deceased family members, and a few landscapes in the mix. The towering windows overlook the shift to moody purple twilight outside.

A butler soon comes to take our orders for drinks and starters.

Katie’s silver earrings dangle, a tendril of escaped hair following the curve of her jaw. She considers me across the small round table, over the cream linens and a small centerpiece bouquet with flowers from the rose gardens.

“I’m so sorry, Katie,” I say again when we’re alone. “I took advantage, and I shouldn’t?—”

She waves me off. “I’m just as responsible for that night as you are. I… well, I wanted you, Auggie.” Katie’s eyes are a little bright then, and she looks down at the napkin in her lap. “And I know it’s impossible. I knew that before, and I know that now. You’re not in love with me.”

My lips twist. There’s a hollow in my chest, my voice caught in my throat. It takes me a couple of tries. “If I was going to be with a woman, Katie, it’s you,” I say softly.

Katie smiles, but her eyes well with tears for a moment. She reaches out to squeeze my hand.

We’re quiet with our drinks when they are served. She gazes out the window. Birds dip in the dusk, catching tiny bugs that we can’t see. It smells like summer through the open window, of freshly cut lawn. Even in London. We could be a million miles away.

“I heard you were out of London for a few days,” Katie says at last. She adjusts her napkin, finally turning to me. “Anne mentioned.”

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