Page 65 of Loyally, Luke
Penelope:And nonfiction. There are some, so it’s possible.
Luke:This time, Penn, I need you to leave the fairy dust out of the conversation. Okay?
Penelope:Okay. I’ll just be sad for you, then pray for you, and then daydream about your next romance until I feel better.
Luke:Fine. As long as those daydreams stay in your mind and out of my texts.
Penelope:I love you. And I’m sorry you’re hurting. And just so you know, you’re better than any prince wannabe could ever be.
Luke:Thanks, Penn.
***
Text from Ellie to Maeve:I messed things up again, Maeve. Because I was too afraid and too ashamed to do the right thing, I did the wrong thing, and I hurt Luke.
Maeve:You told him about being a princess?
Ellie:Yes, but not at the most opportune time.
Maeve:I’m guessing he’s the hottie in the blue flannel in the photo online?
Ellie:The photos are already out?
Maeve:Within the last hour. Quite the stir too, since most folks are wondering about you. BTW, so you don’t have to read the comments, everyone is in agreement that they prefer your natural hair color.
Ellie:Maeve! This is serious. I’m not sure what to do.
Maeve:Did you apologize?
Ellie:Of course, profusely, but there’s nothing else I can do.
Maeve:Exactly. Then you’ll know.
Ellie:Know what?
Maeve:If he’s all you think he is.
Ellie:And if he is?
Maeve:I think only you can answer that, El. And I don’t envy you. But I rarely envy you, no offense, because that princess gig is not all the movies make it out to be. As your friend of... lots of years, I’ve seen all sides.
Ellie:And I’ve made my choice about things, Maeve. I won’t go back on it now because I know it’s the right thing.
Ellie:But what happens when you have two possible right answers which oppose one another?
Maeve:We pray for a door #3?
***
“Wow!” came Izzy’s response as she sat across from Luke in the small Crieff pub called The Wee Dram, Brodie by her side.
He looked less shocked and more... sad?
Well, Luke could relate to all the emotions—the bad ones anyway. The shock was definitely wearing off to leave a big hole of hurt and disappointment behind. Some anger too.
“No one revealed her true identity to you?” Brodie shook his head, his grin almost emerging. “I’d heard the royals had a special place they found refuge, but to such an extent? It’s remarkable.”
“I thought Pete should have picked up on something.” Luke raked a hand down his face, his entire body weighted from some internal struggle he didn’t even know how to define. “But he just said the last time he’d seen photos of her, she’d had dark hair. I asked how her last name—St.Clare—didn’t give it away, and he gave me the strangest look and said, “How many people who aren’t royal stalkers know the royals by anything other than Prince Stellan or Princess Rosalyn?”
