Daphne nodded. “I know. The email came from the Madison family.”
“The Madisons?” Rei repeated, puzzled. “No, those emails came from a personal computer registered to the royal family.”
What? No, that didn’t make sense—
“The computer that sent them belongs to Samantha Washington.”
Samantha snapped her tote bag shut, then glanced up as footsteps sounded on the staircase. Liam clattered down into the living room, his hair still tousled from sleep.
“I’m glad you’re up,” Sam said eagerly. “I need to ask you something.”
Liam eyed her pink sweatpants and messy bun with amusement. “Shouldn’t you be in a dress?”
“Not yet. I’m getting hair and makeup done at the palace.”
He nodded. “And you want a ride? I don’t mind; I’m not on duty until noon.”
“I actually have a car waiting. But you don’t have to work today—I mean—I called your supervisor and asked if you could have the day off.” She drew in a breath, bracing herself. “Will you come with me to the wedding?”
Liam took a step closer, seeming confused. “You want me to be your date to your brother’s wedding?”
“Yes.”
His gaze traced over her face, from her eyes down to linger on her lips. A beat too late, Sam realized what was happening.
When Liam lowered his mouth to hers, Sam tipped her face up. She didn’t consciously think about it; it just happened, almost reflexively, because he was tall and warm and solid, and it felt so good to be held.
It should have been a perfect kiss. Liam’s mouth was infinitely soft; his arms curled gently around Sam’s torso, settling low on her back. But it wasn’t perfect, because it wasn’t Marshall.
Oh god. What was she doing?
Sam broke away and took a quick step back. “Look, I didn’t mean to—”
“I’m sorry,” Liam cut in. “I mean, I’m not sorry that we kissed, because I’ve wanted to for ages, but I misread that invitation, didn’t I?”
“I should have clarified,” Sam said gently. “Will you come with me to Jeff’s wedding, as my friend?”
“Your friend,” Liam repeated, not trying to hide his disappointment. “So you and Marshall are still together? You haven’t really talked about him lately,” he fumbled to explain. “I thought maybe you’d broken up.”
Sam shook her head. “I don’t know what’s going on with Marshall, but…”
But whatever it was, her heart still belonged to him.
She shouldn’t have let Liam kiss her, should have pulled away more quickly. Still, Sam couldn’t quite bring herself to regret it, if only because it had reminded her of how acutely she longed for Marshall. Of how desperately she would fight to save their relationship—even if it meant going back to Hawaii, walking away from everything she had started to build here.
Sometimes you had to be on the brink of losing something before you realized precisely how much it meant to you.
Sam tucked her hands into the pockets of her hoodie, fiddling with the stacked rings on her finger. “Liam, this wedding will be my first formal appearance since I lost my titles. I was hoping you’d come with me, to keep me company through all the etiquette and protocol, and…to help me escape, in case I’m ruining everything and need to leave.”
He frowned at that. “How could you ruin everything?”
“What if people boo me in the streets?” Sam asked. “You know, a British king lost his titles and he could never appear in England again without the crowds hissing at him! I’ve always been the least favorite Washington, and that was before I fell from grace. Now I’m just Samcelled.”
“I think things have changed for you lately,” Liam argued.
Maybe, but Sam didn’t want to take any chances. “Please?”
He let out a breath. “Of course I’m happy to come. I will hold your purse during photos and bring you drinks and whatever else etiquette says royal dates are supposed to do. And if you need an escape route, I’ll be ready with the garbage truck,” he added, with a hint of the old teasing tone.
Sam smiled in relief. “So you and me…we’re okay?”
“We’re okay.” He reached for her bag and hoisted it over his shoulder. “Can I walk you out?”
As they headed past Sam’s room, she realized she’d left the door wide open. Liam sucked in a breath when he saw the deflated air mattress, everything folded as neatly as when she’d first arrived here, all those weeks ago.
“Looks like you’re moving out.”
“Jeff texted last night and asked if I wanted to stay at the palace for a while. Now that we’ve made up, it makes sense. At least until I figure out my next move.” Her eyes met Liam’s and she added, “Thank you for taking me in when I was…when I needed a friend.”
Liam nodded. “Sam, as much as I would’ve liked to date you, I love having you as a friend.”
She stepped forward and hugged him then, burying her face in his T-shirt to hide her tears. Liam had changed her in ways that she had never expected. He’d helped her put the pieces of her life back together—or, more accurately, he’d helped her find her way to a new life, one where she felt stronger and more capable. The Samantha who’d stormed into Beatrice’s hospital room and fought with Jeff about her titles felt like a distant and far-off person, someone who didn’t have a clue how to calculate sales tax or cook an omelet or switch lines on the metro.
Her whole life, Sam had been trained in being a princess. But no one until Liam had taught her, simply, how to be a person.
* * *
Later that morning, Sam was in one of the downstairs sitting rooms with Beatrice and their mom, fastening her strappy heels. They could have gotten ready with Daphne in the Brides’ Room, but it was such a cramped space, and Beatrice said Daphne would want to be alone with her own mother right now. Let them have this special time together, Beatrice insisted, though Sam suspected that Daphne’s mom wasn’t all that sentimental.
As promised, Sam’s bridesmaid dress—a gorgeous color somewhere between slate gray and smoke—fit perfectly. A few strands of her pixie cut had been pinned back, white flowers fastened to the bobby pins. It was excruciatingly girly and so very Daphne, but Sam had to admit, she liked the contrast of the ivory petals against her dark hair.
“You okay, Bee?” she asked, realizing that Beatrice had been very quiet this morning.