Page 99 of How to Date a Prince

Thomas clears his throat. “It would be great to see you. I, err, saw the confessional you made. For the show.”

As if there’s any other show we’ve been on together.

“Oh?” I can’t breathe.

“I’m… I’m glad you were finally honest.”

My face burns as my world swirls.

Thomas knows I’m in love with him.

“I guess we should talk.” Thomas’ voice is barely audible.

“I guess we should.” My voice is a breath. “I want to see you.”

“Let’s talk in a few days and make a plan?”

“I’ll need to make security arrangements.”

“Same.” Then he hesitates. “G’night, Auggie. It’s great to hear your voice again.”

“Yours too. Sleep well.”

Once we hang up, I roll to my side and squish my face into a fluffy pillow. Hearing Thomas’ voice only stirred things up, leaving me in knots and with another sleepless night ahead, spent alternatively remembering Thomas and the accident too.

* * *

I don’t even have a chance to sit at the breakfast table the next morning when my father lowers his paper with a crisp snap. He fixes me with a stern look like I’m about to be sent down to some dank dungeon, which in a palace is a totally viable option. I’m sure they’re stocked with rats for added effect. “Auggie.”

“Good morning, Father.”

I’m already dressed for physio in my tracksuit, opting for a light breakfast that primarily consists of tea and toast before they do whatever they’ll do to me to put me through my paces this morning. I’m bleary-eyed after only a couple of hours’ kip. It’s better than nothing, though.

He frowns at me, worry across his face. “Did you approve that footage?”

“I… did.”

“Why?” His thick eyebrows push together. Worry mixes with something else. Frustration, I think. “It’s absolutely dreadful to watch.”

I shrug. “Because it happened? Whether we like it or not? The press already knew. Photos were already leaked. May as well show what happened and get in front of it now. Everyone knows I’m alive. And maybe it’ll help address some of the questions about why I haven’t been out in public so much lately.”

“Or at all.” He lifts an eyebrow. He tuts. “Now we need to do a different kind of damage control for your fitness to rule at some point.”

It’s my turn to frown. Of course. He’s absolutely fixed on what he wants. “Father. It’s not a secret that I nearly cracked my head open. It happened. I’m dealing with the consequences. And I’m not the only person who has suffered from an accident that they didn’t ask for. I’m hardly unique.” My mouth twitches. “You might even say it makes me relatable.”

He grimaces. Wearily, he rubs his eyes, a look I remember well from my teenage years at times when I was home from boarding school, when Gav and I would get into scrapes. “Augustus. This wasn’t what I intended.”

“I’ve been conducting some research into brain injuries. And mental health. And I plan to support a couple of charities.” I gaze evenly at him because I have been doing research when I’ve been up to it. Little bits here and there. I’m making my own path forward. “Potentially to the point of becoming a spokesperson or benefactor or something.”

He sits back in his chair with a sigh. “Is that right?”

“I haven’t committed to anything yet. But yes, when I’m feeling stronger, I may do that.”

He creases the paper in half, setting it aside. He drinks his orange juice. Always with pulpy bits. A butler refills my tea.

Finally, he looks at me again. “The accident was harrowing to see. As your father, it’s terrible seeing how close I was to losing you.”

“I’m sorry. But I’m still here, Father. Besides, the accident will be spectacular for ratings. I’m sure our producer is somewhere over the moon right now. Possibly past Pluto, even.”

---