Page 96 of American Royals
Didn’t Nina realize that she was a public figure now, and couldn’t leave her dorm room looking anything but perfect?
“Nina!” Daphne exclaimed, pleased at how truly surprised she sounded. “What a coincidence. Is Samantha here?”
“Oh, um—Daphne. Hi,” the other girl stammered, evidently caught off guard. “Sam isn’t here, actually. It’s just me.”
Daphne’s ears pricked up at her tone. Something had clearly happened between the so-called best friends. Maybe Samantha didn’t approve of Nina dating her twin brother. Maybe that was what had bothered the princess at the New Year’s party—the reason she’d been standing at the bar alone, looking for someone to drink with. Because she’d just found out that her brother and her best friend were sneaking around behind her back.
Daphne put back a printed jumpsuit she’d been pretending to examine. “Honestly, I don’t know who decided that jumpsuits count as formal attire,” she said conversationally. “I know they make our legs look fantastic, but we can’t exactly wear pants to Beatrice’s engagement party. That’s what you’re shopping for, right?”
“Trying to,” Nina said awkwardly.
So, she was going. At least now Daphne was forewarned. She could handle this. She was Daphne Deighton, and she could handle anything.
“I’ve actually been hoping I might run into you. How are you holding up, after those horrible articles?”
“I don’t really want to talk about it.” Nina pretended to examine a price tag, looking distinctly uncomfortable.
“I’ve been through it all, too, you know,” Daphne said earnestly. “I get how totally awful it is. I just wanted to say that I’m here, if you ever need any help.”
Nina seemed confused by this unprecedented gesture of friendship from her boyfriend’s ex. “That’s really nice, but I wouldn’t want to bother you,” she said warily.
Daphne shook her head. “Jefferson and I are friends,” she insisted. “I know you and I have never been close, but it’s clear to me that he cares about you. Trust me when I say that I understand. I’m probably the only person on earth who understands.”
She saw Nina listening, softening, in spite of herself. “It really does suck,” Nina ventured.
“Doesn’t it?” Daphne asked, and their eyes met in what Nina surely thought was a look of empathy.
“This dress would look amazing on you,” Daphne went on, taking the reins of the conversation firmly in hand. “Though it’s too big. I wonder where Damien is?”
Unsurprisingly, he appeared right away. He’d likely been eavesdropping from the other side of the clothing rack. Not that Daphne minded. If he sold this story to the press, it could only reflect well on her.
“Can we get a fitting room, and can you please pull some things for Nina?” she asked sweetly, leading the other girl away.
“I couldn’t—you don’t need to—”
“Come on, the ball is in just a few days, and you clearly weren’t making any progress on your own,” Daphne reminded her. “Besides, this is way more fun than shopping alone.”
Within minutes they were at the back of the store, twin racks of gowns rolled up alongside them. There were dozens to choose from: silk and chiffon, balloon-sleeved and sleeveless, tailored and slouchy. Though Daphne noted with a proprietary pleasure that Damien hadn’t really brought out the best options, as if he wanted to quietly undermine her efforts to help Nina. The thought warmed her.
She smiled and began to sort through the various gowns, weeding out the rejects with brutal determination. While Nina retreated into a dressing room to try them on, one after the other, Daphne kept up a steady stream of chatter, confessing that People had trashed the first outfit she wore in public—“It was this awful green dress that made me look seasick; I don’t know what I was thinking,”—and that in the first few weeks, she read every one of the thousands of comments on those online articles.
Tell no one your secrets, Daphne’s mom always said, but make them think that you have. It creates the illusion of intimacy.
“I read all the comments too! Well, for a while. Eventually I just deleted my social media handles.” Nina’s voice emanated through the dressing room door. “You never did that, did you?”
“I guess I thought that if I ran away from it all, the haters would win,” Daphne said simply.
Nina stepped in front of the mirror, wearing a black column gown that Daphne wasn’t flat-chested enough to pull off. Of course, her hair was dull and unhighlighted, and she had no makeup or nail polish on. And yet—it didn’t look totally awful on her.
“How did you make everyone …” Nina hesitated, sounding vulnerable. “Make everyone like you?”
They’ll never like you, because they’ll always love me.
Aloud she said, “They’ll like you eventually. And then they’ll dislike you, and then they’ll like you again, back and forth. That’s just the way it goes.” Daphne shrugged, as if she wasn’t particularly bothered by it, and changed the subject.
“I’m not sure about this gown. It’s kind of boring,” she declared, and pulled an ivory one-shouldered trumpet gown from one of the racks. “What about this one?”
Nina gave a puzzled frown. “Isn’t it weird to wear white at an engagement party? I wouldn’t want anyone to think I was trying to upstage Beatrice.”
