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“Improving the next six to eight weeks of your life.” Nina smirked and tossed back her thick black hair, which now had streaks of red and blond spiraling through it. “Your love interest has been recast.”
She pointed to herself with both hands and smiled smugly.
“Really? Did they say why?”
Nina shrugged. “Remember Jennifer was filming that comedy with her friend Daphne? She gained two dress sizes for the role and was probably counting John to keep lagging on his script revisions so she could get it all off before we had to show up on set. This is indie, but not that far indie.”
“I guess tabloids can occasionally get something almost right. Though I hope she’s not dying.”
Nina clicked her tongue. “She’s not dying. Her butt’s just the size of a boat.”
“To be honest, I never thought that Jennifer and I had much chemistry, but she was cast first.”
“At least they should know that we have it.” Nina winked. “We could give ’em a bit of a PR-mance.”
“I trust that PR can do their jobs without us having to pretend to go out or causing any more undue stress to my poor fiancée.”
“Yeah, where did she even come from? The last time I saw you, you were Mr. Flying Solo at that New York screening party. Now you’re engaged?”
Emrys pocketed his phone and stood. “What can I say? I’m in love.”
“Happens to the best of us, unfortunately.” Nina folded her hands together under her mouth. “Will we see her?”
“Maybe later. She’s not been feeling well since Greece, and Mum demanded that I let her train Cait up for the court.”
Nina laughed. “Poor fiancée!”
“I know, but better now than later. She may not know that I’m responsible, but she’ll be grateful once my father finally gives us permission to get married.”
“I honestly don’t understand how your country works.”
“I’ll invite you to the wedding, and you can see for yourself. Or ask my sister. She’s the one who does it, mostly.”
“And yet, Daddy Dearest is the one who gets to be all up in your love life?” Nina grimaced. “Weird.”
“If he couldn’t control the minute details of our lives, the world might just spin right off its axis,” Emrys said dryly.
The man from costuming who had taken Emrys’s measurements came for Nina. She stood, her tight mini-dress riding up so high that Emrys could have read the print off her panties, straightened her dress, and then walked away, swinging her hips. Wardrobe was going to have their work cut out for them getting Nina into clothing that went past the knee.
***
Emrys had only been on set for a week when Caitlyn saw that some idiot gossip blogger online had her on “Baby Bump Watch.” It was small consolation that he had: a) actually gotten her name right as well as the fact that she was supposedly Emrys’s fiancée and b) was using a picture from before she’d even reconnected with him. It was just that she was leaning over, and the loose fabric of her blouse very vaguely resembled a curve.
But the ball had started the gossip rolling. Now pictures of the front of her shirts were fair game, and as she had found out from Melinda, easily available in the checkout aisle. Melinda had snapped a few pictures of one magazine that had finally managed to dig up information about her, with the headline: “The Programming Princess: Pregnant?”
Caitlyn was torn between amusement and anxiety. In a way, she hoped that Emrys would read the stories and realize what was happening before she could tell him. During their phone calls, though, he didn’t seem to be thinking about it at all. He spent hours relating what was going on at the set, and Caitlyn listened, occasionally complaining about her princess lessons. And when she suggested that she was feeling well enough to come visit him on the set, he encouraged her to stay at the palace, just for a little longer.
There were moments when she convinced herself that the test had been a fluke. A false positive, coincidental symptoms, and an overreaction on her part. Until she tried to slip into a pair of jeans and felt the noticeable bump below her navel. She wasn’t nearly as round as the gossip rags made her out to be, but this was harder to ignore. Not impossible, though. She ditched the jeans and returned to her long dresses and empire waists. They still hid it completely, at least from Emrys’s mother and sister. But she could feel her body changing.
One morning, though, when Heloise brought her breakfast, Caitlyn noticed the maid looking at her curiously. Caitlyn realized that the T-shirt she’d been sleeping in had been hiked up and quickly tugged it back down.
“Heloise, please—”
“Your and Prince Emrys’s secrets are your own, ma’am,” she’d said firmly.
Caitlyn burned with guilt and uncertainty. She needed to see Emrys, or at least she needed to have a real conversation with him before it was so obvious that even his fickle attention couldn’t fail to miss it.
Chapter Eleven
