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I lift a shoulder in a shrug. “There’s no other word for it, Chlo. Plain and simple.”
She shakes her head, her eyes wide. “You lucky, lucky girl.”
I beam at her. She’s right. I am a lucky girl. Finally kissing Alex after what had felt like near misses and missed opportunities was more than worth the wait.
“Did you leave space for God, as your dad used to tell you?” Chloe gurgles a laugh.
“Not a lot,” I admit.
She grins, nodding her head. “I bet you didn’t.”
“Chlo, it was so romantic. He told me he’d wanted to kiss me before last night, but he wanted it to be perfect, so he waited until after the ball when he knew he could take me to the rooftop to watch the fireworks. And it was perfect. Perfect in every way.”
“Nice move, Prince McHottie.” She searches my face. “I feel like there’s a but coming on.”
I scrunch my face. “It’s not him. It’s Grandmama.”
“Please don’t tell me you thought about your dad and your grandma while kissing Europe’s most eligible bachelor?”
I describe the way in which Grandmama warned me off of him.
“I don’t get it. What’s your grandma’s beef with Alex?”
“She thinks he’s this horrible ladies’ man who’ll break my heart.”
“To be fair to her…” she leads.
I sit up straighter. “He’s not like that anymore. He’s changed.”
“How can you be sure?”
“He told me.”
She rolls her eyes. “Oh, right. Because no guy’s ever spun that line to a girl before.”
“It’s not a line. Trust me. He has changed. He’s not the bad boy, heartbreaker, Party Prince he was once. He’s kind and he’s thoughtful and he’s smart, and?—”
“Hot.”
“Oh, yeah.” I grin at her, my belly doing a flip as I take a moment to dwell on just how hot Alex is. “You know I’d never go for a guy like the old Alex.”
“Hello? Eric? He’s like a poor man’s Alexander. The old version of him,” she adds before I correct her once more.
In the past, any mention of Eric’s name would have had my belly doing somersaults. Not anymore. Eric is nothing in comparison with Alex. Not even close.
“Eric walked all over me, which I let him do. Alex would never do that. Chlo, he’s amazing. I’ve never met anyone like him.”
If I had known what she was about to say next, I would not have taken a sip of coffee.
She leans back in her chair, studying me. “Oh, I get it. You’re in love with the guy.”
“What?” I guffaw, spluttering coffee over my bedding.
“Here.” As though she hasn’t just said something truly shocking, she casually hands me a cloth napkin, and I wipe my chin with it before blotting the bedding.
“No one said anything about love,” I protest.
“Girl, you don’t have to. It’s written all over your face. You. Love. Alex,” she says, accentuating each word. “You’re the future Mrs. Madeline Prince McHottie.” She giggles at her own joke.
