Page 43 of How to Date a Prince

I finish eating, and we break long enough so I can go brush my teeth. I stare hard at my reflection, shadows under my eyes from the late night. I suppose that’s what makeup is for.

And when I go to the designated room to meet the crew and Colin, the makeup artist pounces to transform me into a more alert-looking version of myself.

I haven’t seen Thomas anywhere on my travels so far today. Good. I don’t know if he’s still sleeping, or maybe if he’s regretting last night, or off writing songs about old lovers?—

“Auggie?” Colin tries again.

“Sorry. I’m paying attention, I promise.”

“As I was saying, we want you to tell us about your family.” He gives me an encouraging smile. “Seeing as yours is so unique.”

I groan.

“Hopefully with more enthusiasm?”

“Sorry… I—sorry. Right. Enthusiasm, yes.”

Someone gives me a cup of tea, and I exchange a grateful look with them.

The videographers are already in position, the boom mic at the ready and lights shining on Colin and me. Are they the ones who caught Thomas and me out on our walk? I both do and don’t want to know how much they’ve overheard. I don’t even know where to begin with damage control when this is over or if it’s possible.

“My family… well, we may be the Royal Family, but at the core, we’re a small family like anyone else might have.” I gaze at Colin. “It’s my father, me, and my sister. My mum passed away two years ago, as I’m sure you remember.”

“How does that feel?” Colin asks, gazing levelly at me.

“Feel?” I blink at him. “What do you mean? Aside from me wishing she was still here?”

“Of course you wish she was still here.” Colin’s nod is sympathetic, his voice warm. “It’s a big loss.”

“There’s no filling that gap,” I confess. “My life has been very different after she passed. But I don’t know any other way.”

“So, you must’ve been sad.”

I’m quiet, searching Colin’s gaze. “Yes. I was sad,” I confirm, “when my mother died. And sometimes, I still am, especially at holidays. Or… other times. Even like with this challenge.”

“Mm,” he acknowledges. “Memory is a funny thing. And so often it’s tied into food, activities, even smells like baking.”

I know he wants more, but this feels too private, too close to share. I have so few things that are private and truly mine, and my grief over my mother’s passing is one of those things I want to keep that way.

“And how is it with your father, the King?” Colin asks, sensing he wasn’t getting any more out of me about my mother.

“Fine?”

“Just fine?” Colin asks.

I shrug. “Well, he’s busy with his responsibilities. My upbringing wasn’t a typical one. We both had—and continue to have—our duties.”

“Are you close?”

I squirm. “I know he cares for me.”

“Interesting.” Colin considers me. “And your sister?”

“She’s at uni now, so we don’t spend much time together.”

“It must be lonely, being a prince.”

“I didn’t say that.” It comes out a little sharper than intended. The whole line of questions is making me increasingly uncomfortable. There’s something in his gaze I don’t quite trust. I look at the door, half tempted to bolt like I did the other day after the baking competition. Or—after Thomas.

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