“Why? I think it makes sense. He broke your heart.” She tipped back the last of her drink and fished the cherry out of the bottom of her glass. “Much like this waiter is going to break my heart if he doesn’t bring me a freaking refill.”
“Mmm.” Taylor stared at her own empty glass sadly. She could drink another margarita, but getting home without falling over would probably be a challenge, especially if Loch wasn’t there to lean on. He’d always been at just the right spot to pick her up before she fell over her own two feet, and made her feel pretty instead of klutzy. Too bad it was all an act. “I would have married him, you know.”
“Hmm?” Gretchen leaned in.
“If he’d told me he wanted to have a goof wedding that wasn’t legit? That he just wanted a green card or something that would keep him off the throne? I’d have done it. Just for fun and to swan around as his wife for a time. I’d totally be his baroness. I don’t care about being a legit wife or anything.” She stared morosely down at her empty glass. “But the way he went about it . . . I feel used. Like he was just using me for sex. Or like I was another servant who could hand him his socks when he couldn’t find them for himself.”
“His socks?”
Taylor sighed. “Yeah. He’s pretty helpless sometimes.” She sniffed. “He wanted an unsuitable wife and I guess I was really unsuitable. That part hurts the most.”
“Aww, honey.” Gretchen reached out and squeezed Taylor’s hand, then winced. “You’re all sticky.”
“I think it’s the salt.” She licked the back of her hand and then wiped it with a napkin. “I just . . . I hate being so stupid. Being so used. And now I don’t even have a job.”
Gretchen’s eyes widened. “Ohmigod, I can totally help you with that!”
“No, seriously.” Taylor waved her off. “I know Hunter’s rich but I’m not sponging off of any more billionaires . . . or their fiancées. I’ll send out my résumé and find some nice quiet tech-support job again.” Blech.
“It’s not sponging,” Gretchen declared. “I seriously need help. Legit help.”
“You do.” Taylor giggled at her joke.
Gretchen made a face. “Not like that, dummy. I’m working on my cookbook. My editor wants it in a few months and so I have to give all the recipes a test-drive. I’ve written the majority of them out but I need someone to try and re-create them based off of my instructions to make sure I have everything written out properly and in a sensible way. I need to know if I fucked them up, and I can’t tell myself. It’s not the most glamorous job. You’d have to come over to my place and cook each recipe. Then we have to taste it to see if it ends up like mine.”
“That . . . doesn’t sound so terrible.”
“It’s not! But it’s necessary for me, or else I’m going to spaz about whether or not they read correctly, since this is my first cookbook.” She straightened and clapped her hands. “Oh my god, and you can also do some taste tests for me! There’s a few where I have duplicate recipes because I’m not sure which version I like better. You can, like, stand on a street corner and give people samples and tell me which one they like better! This is awesome!”
Taylor hesitated. “Gosh, I don’t know. I had Loch hire me, and you see how well that worked out.”
Gretchen reached out and smacked her hand. “Stop that. How much did he pay you? I’ll double it. It’s a temporary job anyhow, but it’ll give you time to pay your bills while you get your résumé out there.”
It would. She got weepy at the thought. “Thanks, Gretchen. You’re an amazing friend.”
“I know. But Hunter’s money helps.” She reached across the table and hugged Taylor. “And you deserve something good to happen. Life’s been crapping on you lately.”
Taylor sniffed hard and rested her head on Gretchen’s shoulder. She was lucky to have friends like Gretchen—irreverent, foul-mouthed, but always supportive.
Maybe after she was done working with Gretchen, the ache of Loch’s betrayal wouldn’t burn like a brand in her chest.
Maybe.
***
One Month Later
“You played like balls, mate. Forget all your moves while over in America?” Roderick jabbed Loch with a friendly elbow as they walked back to the locker room.
“Fuck off,” Loch said with a forced grin. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard something like that since he’d come home. And it was true. He’d played terribly at today’s rugby match. One could argue that he was out of practice but he knew it was more than that.
It was one person in particular that he couldn’t get out of his head.
“Maybe if you showed up again, things’d be all right, hey? Or you just not into playing anymore?” Roderick shot him a curious look. “Haven’t seen you much at all since you got back.”
That was certainly true. He’d returned home thinking he’d go back to his normal life of endless sports, drinking with mates, and enjoying himself. Instead, he’d been moping around his villa. Some days, it was rough just getting out of bed.
And it was all because she hated him. Because he’d been a prick to her and now she thought he’d used her. And maybe he had. He was the bad guy, and he hated it. He hated that he’d hurt her, and he’d lost her.
But all he said was, “Got a lot on my mind, that’s all.”
Roderick tugged at the strap on his head guard. “Because of your cousin? Royal baby and all?”
“Mmm.” The royal baby-to-come had been making all the headlines. True to prediction, once the news of Alex and Luke’s upcoming child had made the rounds, all dissent had pretty much dissipated. Now, Alex and Luke were on the cover of every magazine and newspapers, and Royal Baby Watch had officially started, even though Alex was not even three months along. Loch had been home for a few weeks and it had been quiet. All of the attention had focused back on the crown princess and her family, and Loch had been assured that he did not need to marry at all. He could return to his life of leisure and irresponsibility.
Joy.
“So what did you do while you were in the States?” Roderick asked. “You play anything there?”
I met a woman, fell in love, and then broke her heart. “Went to a polo club or two but it wasn’t for me.”
Roderick exclaimed, surprised. “What did you do for the entire month?”
Loch shrugged. He’d been bored for a while, but then . . . he’d found Taylor. And then nothing was boring anymore. Funny how that had worked. Funny how, after coming back, even his old passions were now boring. Everything was boring. Life wasn’t the same without Taylor, and it bloody hurt. “Jogged. Watched movies. Oh, and I played this video game called Excelsior—”