“It was the summer of that last visit to Washington, when Jeff and I were twelve. We caught my mom and her tennis instructor together. Yes, Henri came on tour with us,” he added, in response to Nina’s questioning look. “I guess that should have been the first clue, right? She told my dad that she wanted to keep working out while traveling, and he never questioned it.”
Nina made a sympathetic noise but didn’t interrupt.
“Jeff and I went to get our rackets for water-balloon tennis—you may remember that game; he and Sam had invented it that summer and were all obsessed. It had been raining that morning, and we didn’t expect to find anyone on the courts. But then we got to the equipment shed and heard voices.” Jamie swallowed, tightened his grip on his beer mug. “I would give anything to unsee it…my mom and Henri, in there, together.”
Nina reached for Jamie’s hand; she couldn’t help it. There was nothing in this moment of the bold, confident prince who sauntered through life with such fearlessness. He looked like a lost little boy.
“That’s terrible,” she said softly.
“I’m okay, really. I’ve had years of therapy to work through it.” Jamie spoke flippantly, but there was something raw and wounded beneath his words, as if he’d tried to put on his armor but couldn’t quite make it fit.
“We both panicked and ran back to the palace in silence,” Jamie went on, picking up the thread of the story. “When we got back, I asked Jeff not to tell anyone what he’d seen. Maybe not the most mature reaction, but…” He sighed. “I kept hoping that if no one else knew, it wouldn’t be real.
“The next day, though, my parents were fighting about Henri. Jeff must have told someone—probably his parents, who’d felt obligated to tell my dad,” Jamie explained. “My dad wasn’t even angry. He kept begging my mom to stay, saying that they could move on as if this whole thing had never happened, but it was too late. She’d already chosen to leave him.”
Nina’s hand was still resting on top of Jamie’s; she forced his palm over and laced her fingers in his. He gave her a grateful squeeze.
“Jamie. I’m sorry that happened, and that you were put in the middle of it, but you can’t blame Jeff for your parents splitting up,” she said gently.
“I know. I blame him for failing to keep a secret,” Jamie insisted. “As a friend, I asked him not to tell anyone, and he did it anyway.”
“You were both so young. I’m sure Jeff did what he thought was best.” Nina wasn’t sure why she was defending him, except that this whole situation sounded far too complicated for a pair of twelve-year-olds to navigate.
“And then Jeff utterly dropped me,” he went on, voice heavy. “We left in a rush that same day, without saying goodbye. I kept thinking Jeff would check in, but…nothing. He never even texted.” Jamie shook his head wearily. “He abandoned my family when scandal hit us, just like everyone else did.”
“What do you mean, everyone abandoned you?”
“The other royal families all dropped us. Why do you think my dad is so reclusive up in Canada? He’s never invited to anything. The Windsors didn’t like us to begin with, because they think Canada should be part of their commonwealth”—Jamie said this last with a touch of derision—“and once Dad was divorced, they had a perfect excuse to cut his invitation from all their weddings. It’s why he hates the League of Kings conference so much, because he feels like everyone is judging him.”
“There have been other royal divorces,” Nina pointed out.
“Not many. My parents’ was one of the first high-profile divorce cases. Except, of course, for the Grimaldis’.”
Nina attempted to lighten the mood. “Monaco, the country where princesses marry circus clowns and race-car drivers.”
A smile tugged at Jamie’s lips. “This is why I like you, Nina.”
“Because of my witty one-liners?”
“Because you don’t treat my title like it’s the only relevant part of me,” Jamie said bluntly. “No matter how hard I try to meet people on my own terms, I feel like the girls I’ve dated in the past all went out with me because I’m a future king. They were interested in what I am, not who I am.”
“That’s a terrible way to think about people.”
Jamie shrugged. “I can’t really blame them; that’s all they know about me. You’re different, though. You’ve grown up around royalty. Case in point: you make jokes about Monaco.” He grinned. “I like that I have to work hard to impress you, instead of falling back on my usual tricks.”
“What’s your usual trick? You flash your signet ring and a girl jumps into bed with you?” Nina asked sarcastically.
Jamie shrugged as if to say, More or less. “It’s just nice to be with someone who doesn’t like me for the royal trappings.”
“If I liked you at all, it would be in spite of the royal trappings.”
“My point exactly. I’ve never met anyone like you, Nina.” The irreverence had fallen from his tone; he was as serious as she’d ever seen him. “You’re so brave, and smart, and unapologetically you. You take people at face value, which is a pretty rare thing.”
Nina liked the version of herself that Jamie apparently saw, the one reflected back to her in his eyes.
Without pausing to think, she grabbed his face and pulled it to hers, right there in the middle of the Canadian-themed Midtown bar.
Jamie kissed her back eagerly, skimming his hands around her back to play with the hem of her shirt. She felt cool air kiss the skin above the waistband of her jeans, and leaned further into him, deepening the kiss.
When she pulled away, Nina should have felt self-conscious, yet she didn’t. She was buoyant, electrified.
Whatever this was between her and Jamie, she wanted more of it.
“Should we get out of here?” she heard herself ask.
Jamie was off his barstool before she’d even finished the question. “Absolutely. We can teach you the fundamentals of hockey another time.”
Ethan stared at Daphne’s phone, eyes wide. “You seriously sent this? What were you thinking?”
She sat back onto her bed, crossing her arms stubbornly over her chest. “I was thinking that I wanted to draw Gabriella out into the open, force her to confront us face to face. Then maybe we could talk her into backing down.”
With less than a month to go before her wedding, Daphne had decided she couldn’t keep waiting for Rei to come through. She needed to take action.
So she’d pulled up the most recent threatening email and composed a reply: I am in possession of some valuable information about the queen. I’ll tell you Beatrice’s dark secret if you’ll agree not to act on mine. Let’s meet to discuss.