Page 98 of How to Date a Prince

Let me know if you want me to call. I have no idea how you keep time in America these days. I do hear after the Pony Express, electricity followed. I could send a telegram if you’d rather. Axxxx

There’s a response a minute later.

A call sounds great.

So, I draw in a deep breath and call. My heart thunders as he answers the phone.

“Sorry to disturb,” I say as nonchalantly as I can as my heart thunders all the way to my ears, “what with your American revolution and other engagements. By the way, I hear autumn in New York is lovely. With the colors. And, err, trees.”

Thomas laughs, though there’s something subdued about the sound. I can’t quite figure out what it is.

“Fuck, Auggie. How are you?” There’s something vulnerable in his voice.

Then it’s my turn to fall quiet. I roll onto my back. “I’m—” I spare him my usual glib response in favor of the truth. Because Thomas. Because he deserves far more than me being an arse. “I’m up and down,” I tell him honestly. “I’m still recovering. And, err, feeling a bit lost about where I fit in my life after everything that happened. I’m due to start public engagements soon. I’ve been recovering, but also, my father’s been trying to protect me from the press.”

He’s quiet for a long moment. “I figured you were still recovering. Everyone’s gone wild without seeing you in public in months. Admittedly, me too.”

“I haven’t been up for events yet,” I confess. “I’m doing a lot of rehab instead. And how are you?”

“I can’t say I’ve been doing any royal engagements. No royal protests either,” Thomas answers easily, and then his voice softens. “I’ve been hoping you’re okay.”

“Overall, yes. I mean, it’s been different. But things are….” I struggle to find a word to encompass everything since the accident in July. Some sort of gesture that captures both okay and not-okay and something wavering in between. Which he can’t see, but I still end up flailing a hand around in the air. “A little bit of a blur, the last few weeks. Couple of months, actually.”

“Oh.” He sounds concerned. “I’m so sorry, Auggie.”

“I’ve been seeing the best specialists around, don’t worry. And I’m rigorous with the work they want me to do for my recovery. I practice my exercises, and I have a whole team working with me. I’m very lucky. I know I am.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear you have some support.”

It’s a thrill to hear his voice, even if he’s sounding more concerned than I want.

“I shouldn’t keep you from your busy New York life. I mean, you have a whole evening ahead of you.”

“I’m actually in London right now,” Thomas confesses. “I caught the show on UK time.”

“Right,” I say, surprised. Thomas is in London? “I see.”

“But I should probably get back. Adam’s waiting. And… people.” He sounds sheepish. “But it’s really good to hear your voice, Auggie.”

My heart sinks anew. Adam. Of course. How could I forget Adam? Clearly, my subconscious was working overtime on suppressing memories of not only accidents but newfound boyfriends too. Go me with the multitasking. Tell that to the rehab team.

“Good to hear yours too,” I say.

There’s silence. Awkward, vast, all of it. Neither one of us wants to hang up.

“I’m glad you called.” Thomas hesitates.

I chew my lip. Reluctant to hang up, I draw a deep breath. “I guess I’ll see you at the finale.”

“The finale,” he says, surprised. “I didn’t think you were coming. Colin said you weren’t. It’ll be great to see you.”

“It’ll be great to see you too.” I smile. Seeing Thomas is definitely something to look forward to. Even if it will hurt knowing everything ended because of me. I mean, he agreed, after all. But the excitement at seeing him is winning over everything else.

“Do you—do you want to see me before then?” I ask in a rush. “I mean, of course you can say no. You’re busy and you have Adam and I’m sure you’re doing something with the hotel or maybe Instagram or?—”

“Yes.”

I swallow hard.

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