I did, Nina thought, but she felt almost sorry for Jeff in that moment. Perhaps that was why she said, “Things between you and me were never going to work out.”
“Why? Because I’m a prince?” Jeff shook his head. “I used to think that was the problem, that my titles were getting in the way. Until you started dating a crown prince, Nina. You do realize that he’s the heir, right? He’s even more a prince than I am!”
Some part of Nina wanted to laugh at the sheer absurdity of this conversation. Were she and her royal ex-boyfriend seriously debating levels of princeliness?
She leaned against the wall, clutching her application to her chest. “We were never going to work because Daphne was always in the way. Not your titles.” She looked Jeff in the eye as she added, “You were always going to have to choose between us.”
And in the end, he’d chosen Daphne.
Jeff winced. “I’m sorry. For a while there, I had hoped there was a way we could all get along.”
Hadn’t she hoped the very same thing, back when she’d believed in Daphne’s friendship? Nina had told herself that she would find a way to keep them both—Jeff and Daphne.
Jeff stared at her as if he knew precisely what she was thinking. “It seemed like you and Daphne were becoming friends. What happened?” When Nina said nothing, he added clumsily, “Whatever it was, I hope it wasn’t because of me.”
“Oh, Jeff” was all Nina could say.
Of course it was because of him. Didn’t he understand by now? It was always because of him.
His eyes met hers, and she wished he would just stop looking at her like that. “I miss you, Nina. I mean—I miss having you in my life.”
“I miss you, too.” The words came out of her unwillingly, like a breath stolen from her chest.
“Do you think we could ever be friends again?”
Typical Jeff. He had always asked for too much, tried to make everyone happy, tried to have it all.
How many times had she and Jeff tried to go back, retrace their steps, and be “just friends”?
Nina blinked to hide the tears in her eyes. “I’ll always care about you, but I’m not sure I can be friends.”
Sadness flickered over his expression, but he nodded. “I understand.”
“Congratulations, by the way. On the wedding.”
Nina started to turn aside, but Jeff stepped into her path. For a wild instant she thought he would kiss her.
She hated that a part of her wanted him to.
“About your essay,” Jeff said awkwardly. “I know you probably don’t want my opinion, but it should be a little more personal.”
“You read my essay?”
“Sorry. It was there in the printer tray, and I just…” He held his hands out in apology. “It’s so academic, Nina.”
“This is an academic program,” she said tersely.
“Sure, but there’s so much more to you than your thoughts on Gothic narrators. You should talk about your love of books! Like that time you stole a library book and racked up five hundred dollars in fines.”
“I didn’t steal it; I just forgot to return it!”
“Or that time we were kids and decided to build a fort. Sam and I went off looking for pillows, and by the time we came back you had already built a fort out of books.”
“Books are clearly better! They’re so much more protection against the elements.”
A flicker of amusement shone in Jeff’s eyes. “What elements, Nina? We were inside.”
“The imaginary elements!”
“That’s exactly my point,” he insisted. “This application makes you sound brilliant, which you obviously are. But the departmental committee should also know that you’re passionate, and creative, and…” He fumbled for the right word before finally saying, “And whimsical.”
Nina was struck silent. She couldn’t believe that Jeff remembered all those moments. He spoke as if it was no big deal, as if he wasn’t breaking her heart little by little with each sentence.
That was the thing about people who had known you since childhood: they understood you in ways that you didn’t even understand yourself.
They could hurt you better than anyone, even when they didn’t mean to.
* * *
Two days later, Nina was onstage for the final performance of the weekend, curling up amid the painted greenery and stretching her arms overhead with a yawn. “O weary night, O long and tedious night, / Abate thy hours!”
In reality she wasn’t weary at all; she was thrumming with energy, feeding off the excitement that pulsed through the theater.
She had actually done it. She, shy and bookish Nina Gonzalez, had done something she’d never expected and starred in a play. She almost didn’t recognize herself.
After the curtain call, her parents found her backstage and handed her a bouquet of sunflowers. “Nina! You were spectacular,” her mom exclaimed, pulling her into a hug. “And your cute costar! I can’t believe he’s the Prince of Canada.”
“He seems very normal,” her mamá chimed in, eyes fixed on Nina. “There weren’t any tabloid reporters here tonight.”
Nina heard the criticism of the Washingtons folded into that comment. Her mamá had always been wary of her friendship with Samantha, afraid that Nina would get sucked into a toxic whirlpool of feeling less-than. And in many ways she’d been right.
“Jamie isn’t on home turf. The rules are different here,” she mumbled. Mercifully, her mamá let it go.
“Nina!” Rachel came to join them, holding an enormous arrangement of two dozen red roses. “One of the royal security guards just dropped this off for you.”
“How sweet of Samantha!” Nina’s mom exclaimed, craning to look over her shoulder. “Is she here?”
Nina smiled and reached for the roses, touched. Sam had come to last night’s performance, and had sent cupcakes to the entire cast backstage. Nina certainly hadn’t expected her to do anything tonight.
Rachel drew Nina aside, lowering her voice cryptically. “I’m not sure it was Sam.”
Nina tore open the envelope attached to the flowers.
You were fantastic tonight, Nina. Congratulations.
It wasn’t signed, but that didn’t matter, because Nina would have known that handwriting anywhere.
She looked at Rachel, stunned. “Jeff was here?”