“Daphne…if you’re so worried about money, why don’t you work? I’m not saying you should flip burgers,” she hurried to add. “But you’re smart, and people love you. There has to be something you can do with that.”
“What, sell an exclusive tell-all interview?”
“You know that’s not what I mean,” Nina insisted. “What about something less personal? Can’t you work at an art gallery? Write a children’s book? I can see it now—something with girl power and glittery shoes.”
“None of those are options for me. I’m not allowed to take on any kind of sales-related job, even at an art gallery, because it would reflect poorly on the royal family. Anyone who bought a painting from me would be accused of trying to buy their way into the Washingtons’ good graces.” Daphne shook her head. “And I definitely can’t write a book, even a picture book about magical shoes. The NDA made it very clear that I was relinquishing my right to write or sell anything, ever.”
Nina blinked. “You signed an NDA?”
“Of course I did. Plus multiple riders and amendments.”
“Seriously?”
Daphne seemed much less upset by this than Nina. “The palace made me sign something when Jefferson and I were first dating, of course. Then after he broke up with me, they clearly worried I wouldn’t consider myself bound by the contract anymore—that I might publish a salacious memoir—so they sent over a contract amendment that very morning.” Daphne sighed. “Jefferson dumped me, and then hours later, a messenger from the palace’s legal department appeared on my front step. I was crying so hard, I pretty much signed the document without reading it.”
Heat flooded Nina’s face. She knew the exact morning that Daphne was talking about, because she was the reason Jeff had broken up with Daphne—or at least one of the reasons. The night before, she and Jeff had hooked up for the first time.
“Doesn’t it bother you, having a contract about your relationship?” she asked.
It was an intrusive question, but Daphne didn’t flinch. “You’re thinking about this wrong. The contract isn’t about our relationship; it’s about what I’m allowed to disclose about the relationship.”
Nina shook her head. “It was about your relationship. Even if they didn’t state it explicitly, the palace kept trying to dictate what I could wear—” She broke off uncomfortably, but her meaning was already abundantly clear.
“The palace asked you to sign an NDA, too,” Daphne said quietly.
Nina got angry all over again, thinking of how Robert Standish had shown up at her parents’ house, telling her that if she and Jefferson were together, she could no longer wear sweatpants.
“I didn’t sign it.” Nina’s relationship with Jeff had been over before it got to that point.
“Really?” Daphne sounded impressed. “I guess I just assumed that was the cost of dating him.”
“Oh,” Nina muttered awkwardly, because she had no idea what else to say.
Daphne hesitated, sucking in a breath. “While we’re on the topic, Nina…last year, when I did all that stuff to you…I might have overreacted.”
A slow, incredulous smile stole over Nina’s face. “Wait a second. Did you just apologize?”
“I don’t think so. Did you hear the words I’m sorry? That’s the technical definition of an apology,” Daphne countered, but she was smiling, too.
“You apologized!” Nina crowed. “It happened! I heard it!”
“Look, I just—I wanted to clear the air between us.” Daphne ran her hands over the skirt of her gown, absently tracing its tulle layers. “Jefferson told me how you helped take care of him the other night. I’m really glad you were there.”
Nina’s amused joy was quickly overshadowed by guilt. She’d been trying not to think about what had happened between her and Jeff. Nothing had happened, she reminded herself, not really; she and Jeff might have flirted with the line, but they hadn’t crossed it.
Yet she knew deep down that her excuses were flimsy. Here was Daphne—apologizing, trying to make things right between them—while Nina had been on a couch with her boyfriend, late at night, practically cuddling.
She resolved not to do anything like that again, not as long as Jeff and Daphne were dating.
“It wasn’t a big deal,” she muttered, but Daphne didn’t seem to have heard.
“Things have been strained with me and Jefferson lately.” Daphne stared at the floor as she spoke. “Ever since school started, I’ve felt him drifting away. And that fight I picked in front of Gabriella didn’t exactly help things.” She lifted her gaze, flustered. “Sorry, I know you probably don’t want to hear any of this—but what I’m trying to say is that I’m glad you and Jefferson are friends again.”
Nina realized, stunned, that Daphne trusted her.
And Nina had violated that trust. Even if she and Jeff hadn’t actually kissed, they shouldn’t have put themselves in a position where they might. It wasn’t fair to Daphne.
“Of course. You know I’ll always help Jeff. We’ve been friends forever,” Nina managed to say.
When they had finally worked their way through the stack of dresses, Daphne decided on a violet gown that they both agreed would wipe the smile from Gabriella’s face. Nina, meanwhile, was torn between a black one-shouldered gown and a dress of ecru silk with stitched rosettes.
She and Daphne stared silently at the pair of gowns, which hung side by side on the fitting-room wall.
“Normally I would say you can’t wear anything white or off-white after Labor Day.” Daphne fingered the delicate embroidery. “I think this might be an exception, though. It’s so beautiful.”
“The black one is safer,” Nina pointed out.
“Since when do you play it safe? Especially with your fashion choices.”
There was something almost envious in Daphne’s tone, as if she wished she could occasionally dress a little more like Nina—or behave a little more like Nina, doing what she wanted instead of what she thought other people wanted her to do.
“You’re right,” Nina agreed. “Meet you at the register?”
She waited until Daphne was checking out before dialing her mamá’s number. Isabella picked up on the second ring.
“Mamá?” Nina pulled the curtain shut, lowering her voice. “Sorry to bother you; I just need your advice.”
The clicking sound of her mamá’s typing fell silent. “I’m listening.”