Page 73 of Royals
He doesn’t answer that and instead pushes his pint glass in little circles on the bar. Then he looks up at me and, out of nowhere, says, “I was a wanker to your friend, wasn’t I?”
The whole thing with Isa seems like it happened a thousand years ago, so it’s hard to remember that it was only a few weeks ago. Still, he was indeed a wanker, so I nod. “Totally.”
Sighing, Seb continues to make a circuit with his glass. “I am working on being less of one, I swear.”
He sounds so defeated that I almost feel sorry for him, and I reach out tentatively, patting his knee. “You’ll get there,” I promise. “And one way to do that is to never, ever tell anyone how you feel about Ellie, okay?”
Seb’s hair is falling over his forehead in that attractive way that all the Royal Wreckers seem to have cultivated, and he watches me with those very blue eyes that are just like Alex’s. “I won’t,” he says.
“Are we going to be friends now?” he asks, and I roll my eyes as I take a sip of my lemonade.
“We’re about to be family,” I remind him, and he brightens a little at that.
“Family,” he repeats. “I’d like that.” Then he shrugs, tossing back the rest of his drink. “Never thought I’d have regular people in my family.”
“Okay, see, saying things like that really tips you back toward that whole ‘wanker’ thing you were trying to avoid.”
Grinning, Seb reaches out and smacks my knee. “See, that’s what I need you around for. Remind me of wanker-like behavior.”
He pays for our drinks, which surprises me since I wasn’t even sure he had money on him, and as we make our way to the door, I ask, “Is it really weird paying for things with your mom?”
Queen Clara’s face is stamped on all the ten-pound notes, and her father, King James, is on the twenties. One day, Alex could end up on money. Or his kids. It’s another reminder that while Ellie may be my sister, everything that comes after this marriage is going to change my family forever.
Seb just laughs, though. “Barely notice it, to be honest.”
We step back into the alley, and I take a deep breath. Everything smells like rain and old stone and the exhaust from buses, plus the faintest hint of lemonade still wafting from Seb’s shirt.
Seb is in love with Ellie, but Ellie is in love with Alex.
Seb issupposedto fall in love with Tamsin, who is actually fooling around with Flora.
Flora pretended to date Miles, who is now pretending to dateme.
And itispretend.
Totally, totally pretend, no matter what happened in the bothy.
“This is so messed up,” I mutter to myself, and Seb surprises me by clapping me on the shoulder.
“Nah, you haven’t seen anything yet.”
Chapter 32
I had thought the horse race was the fanciest, most pretentious thing I’d do in Scotland. Maybe the shooting day with all that tweed and the Land Rovers. Or the balls. Balls, super fancy, obvs.
But polo? Polo puts all of those things to shame.
The match is held just outside Edinburgh on one of those magical sunny summer days here in Scotland, the kind that will probably turn to rain by the afternoon, but for now, everything is gorgeous. Striped tents, tables groaning with flutes of champagne and all kinds of tiny finger foods, people wandering around in the brightest, prettiest of outfits...
And I hate all of it.
I’m in one of the dresses Glynnis picked out for me, yellow instead of the green she usually puts me in, and all scalloped skirt and fluttery sleeves. No hat today but a fascinator that, thank god, contains exactly zero feathers and only one little piece of netting.
My heels are sinking into the grass, and all I want to do is finda place to sit down. I glance back at the stands and see a beautiful woman in a large black hat striding toward one of the striped tents. She looks like all the women I’ve seen here: extremely well put-together but also kind of like a purebred Afghan hound.
As I watch, she hails a friend, and then, slowly, almost inevitably, tips over, sinking into the wet grass, one hand still raised in greeting.
The man next to her doesn’t even pause, just continues on his way, and I shake my head.
