Page 70 of American Royals
She glanced around their open-air first floor, with its warped wood dining table, ferns and succulents cascading off various surfaces. Along one wall, an old library ladder had been repurposed as a bookshelf.
“I thought there was,” Nina admitted. “Except …”
“It’s a very big except.” Her mamá heaved a sigh. “Trust me—I know firsthand how it feels, being pulled into the orbit of the royal family. It’s a lot to sign on for. We would understand if you wanted to walk away from it all.”
“Is that what you think I should do?” Nina asked slowly.
“Yes,” Isabella declared, just as Julie said, “Not necessarily.”
Her parents glared at each other over Nina’s head. Clearly, they hadn’t had time to get their official verdict ready before her arrival.
“This is exactly what I always worried would happen,” her mamá went on, reaching to gently tuck back a strand of Nina’s hair. “From that very first day I interviewed at the palace and found you running around with Samantha, I worried about you. Living this royal life when you aren’t actually royal … it messes with your sense of reality. And now you’ve been forced into the spotlight, where all those awful people can judge you. It’s too public.”
“Your job is public,” Nina reminded her. “People write hateful things about you all the time.”
“I’m a grown woman, and I took on this job knowing exactly what it entailed!” Isabella burst out. “You are eighteen years old! It isn’t right that people are saying all these disgusting, heinous things about you. It’s vile, it’s perverted, it’s—”
Julie cast her wife a warning glance, then turned back to Nina. “Sweetie, you know all we want is for you to be happy. But …” She paused, hesitant. “Are you happy?”
If her mom had posed this question a week ago, Nina would have said yes without hesitation. But even then, she’d been leading a double life.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. How could she still be with Jeff, knowing what America thought of them? “The things those people wrote …”
Her mom placed her hands firmly on Nina’s shoulders. “Don’t you dare worry about what those people think. They are small-minded and jealous, and frankly, I feel sorry for them. The people who love you know you for who you are. The rest is all just noise.”
At least she would always have this, Nina thought gratefully. No matter how utterly messed up the rest of the world became, at least her family would always be on her side. “Thank you,” Nina whispered.
They leaned forward, and all of them held each other tight in the same three-person hug they’d been doing since Nina was a toddler.
Her phone kept buzzing, but Nina ignored it. She had no idea when she would be ready to talk to Jeff. Maybe she never would.
BEATRICE
What did one wear to one’s own proposal? Beatrice thought, with an oddly clinical sense of detachment. Something white? She settled on a long-sleeved creamy lace dress and matching heels.
“You look beautiful,” Connor told her when she stepped into the hallway, and started across the palace toward the East Wing. “What’s the occasion?”
She felt color rising to her cheeks. “No reason.”
Beatrice had been in a silent, screaming turmoil since the conversation with her father a few days ago. Every morning she would wake up next to Connor with a bolt of happiness—and then the knowledge of her dad’s sickness would hit her all over again, flooding her body with excruciating waves of grief. Yesterday’s news about Jeff dating Sam’s friend Nina hadn’t even been enough to snap her out of it.
She and Connor had just reached the Oak Room when a figure appeared at the opposite end of the hallway. Right on time, of course.
“You didn’t tell me that this meeting was with Theodore Eaton.”
“Connor …,” she said helplessly.
“I’m kidding, Bee.” He turned to her with a smile so genuine, so intimately trusting, it knocked the air smack out of her chest. “I promise I won’t be a jealous idiot anymore. I know what’s real and what’s just for show.”
He leaned forward, lowering his mouth toward hers—momentarily forgetting that Teddy was right there, halfway down the hall and closer every second, because Beatrice knew from the look in his eyes that he was going to kiss her.
She made a strangled sound deep in her throat. Connor startled to awareness. He managed to turn the movement into an abbreviated bow, as if he were responding to some command of hers. His face impassive, he went to stand near the door.
Beatrice forced herself to smile at Teddy. “Thank you for coming.”
“Of course I came. You don’t exactly ignore a summons from the future queen.” He said it lightly, but the words twisted like a knife in her gut.
Her posture as rigid as a ballerina’s, Beatrice stepped into the Oak Room, and Teddy followed.
