Page 9 of How to Date a Prince

Father turns the TV off to peer at me like some sort of unexpected specimen found in a Petri dish.

“Augustus.”

His cool blue eyes take me in. As always, he’s impeccably groomed, with a trim beard that’s more white than blond, though he still has a full head of hair. Shifting in his armchair, he sets down the remote control and turns more fully towards me for his scrutiny. He’s more gaunt these days. After Mum died, his health turned, and it’s like he aged a decade or two overnight and became an old man.

On the low oak coffee table, there’s a buffet of Sunday papers, which doubtless have the analysis of my Saturday night indiscretions, moment by excruciating moment, written by some royal observer. And I gave them more than plenty to observe.

“Hello, Father.” I fight every fidget that comes.

More awkward stretches between us like days. Possibly weeks. My hangover still presses behind my eyes, even though I’ve drunk plenty of water.

“I wondered if you were going to get up today.” His tone is even. I’d rather he yelled at me. “Or if you would come home.”

“It turns out I did both.”

“I see that.”

The urge comes to shift my weight between my feet. To twist the cuffs of my shirt. To chew my lip. My stomach churns from too many shots last night, and my brain’s wrapped in a dreary fog, with my temples throbbing like a metronome of doom.

“I didn’t realize you felt that way about Katherine.”

I swallow hard and turn some brilliant color. Oh no. Of course he read the morning papers. Never mind what hit the news reels. It’s a ritual like watching his programs.

“I—”

Any answer is the wrong answer. To say I do would be a lie. To say I don’t sounds entirely callous after being photographed like that together. I let Katie down and then some. I’ve hurt her, and it feels deservedly awful.

I practically bite my tongue in my struggle for words. Instead, I suck back a deep breath. “It’s, err, complicated.”

He arches a silvering eyebrow, a gesture that Anne inherited from him. “I never thought you the type to respond in memes, son.”

My mouth opens and shuts again. A puff of air escapes.

How the hell does he even know what a meme is?

“Um.”

“You’re usually far more well-spoken, Auggie. But I suppose you might be feeling under the weather. I’m not used to seeing your… exuberance quite like that. Certainly not in the press.”

“I’m sorry.” My fingers find the cuffs of my sleeves to toy with. The room’s too close. Everything spins. “I should have thought of the family and how my behavior would be perceived.”

“Your behavior is appalling, yes. Clearly, thinking was off the table.” He frowns now, brow furrowed, all sharp and pointy. “Did you take a moment to think how dangerous your indiscretion was?”

Oh shit. Dangerous?

There’s been, regrettably, very little thinking. It’s off brand for me. Heat burns my face.

I get the eyebrow again. Totally deserved too.

“Not only are you my heir, Augustus, but you put Katherine in danger as well. Never mind the people who are actually charged with taking care of your well-being and security. Did you have a thought for them?”

I slump. He mustn’t know that Anne and Gav were with us last night. Anne didn’t tell him that much.

“No…”

Shadows fall over his face. He frowns deeply, carving lines around his mouth.

I stare down at the vicinity of my toes. Even they feel ashamed.

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