Page 89 of King of the Crease

Does he even want me to visit? What’s going to happen when he returns to Ardenia? He’s expected to marry a woman, not a big, hairy dude.

“I don’t want to let you go, Hank.”

He leans his head against my shoulder as we stare out at the dark sky.

“We said we’d figure it out,” he says softly. “So we’ll figure it out.”

It’s a statement I believed until I found out he was a prince. Toll roads I could do. But state dinners? Diplomatic duties? Those aren’t in my wheelhouse. I didn’t go to college. I’m not the best at following world news. I’m a guy who sits in Barcaloungers, not thrones.

The ugly question in the back of my head charges to the front: Am I enough?

With Nick, I started believing maybe I was more than comic relief. That I could be someone special. But now he’s Crown Prince Nicholas of Ardenia. My head starts pounding as everything crashes together.

“So what happens now?” I ask him.

He stands up and extends his hand. Nick pulls me to him and envelops me in a rich kiss that silences all the voices in my head for a moment.

“You come back to bed,” he says.

“You got it, Your Highness.”

After a night of tender lovemaking, we wake up in each other’s arms. The events of last night are blurry, like a dream slipping out of my subconsciousness. In this bed, we are still Nick and Hank. Everything seems possible.

I don’t know if we can make it work. The niggling doubt at the back of my head believes Nick will forget about me as soon as he boards his royal jet.

But maybe there’s a way. I’ve fixed leaks and clogs that were once thought unfixable.

Nick’s eyes flutter open. Creases etch on his face from the pillow.

“Morning,” he says in a raspy voice, his accent drop-dead sexy.

“Morning, Your Highness.”

“Oh please don’t call me that.”

“Why do they call you that? Is it because your throne is so high up? You’re all big tokers?”

“I don’t know why, actually. It’s an old expression, and that makes it important.” Nick leans on his elbow, wipes sleep from his eyes. “In here, I just want to be Nick.”

“And you are.” I pull him against me for a morning make-out session which is quickly interrupted by his phone buzzing with a text. You know you’re head over heels for someone when you can kiss them before they’ve brushed their teeth.

“Ignore,” he says against my lips. “Probably Millie wondering if I want to meet for brunch.”

The phone stops buzzing. Not even a second later, the buzzing starts up again. Another round of buzzing possesses Nick’s phone. A call and a text.

“You’re popular,” I murmur.

“Millie’s probably pissed at me.” He groans as he sits up and moves out of my embrace. He reaches for his phone. “Shit. It’s Agnes.”

“Who’s Agnes?”

“My personal secretary.”

“Fancy,” I say under my breath. I check my phone, taking it off silent, and discover a slew of text messages from my friends. They share articles from different news sites, Instagram reels, and TikToks. Embedded in each post is a five-second TikTok of Nick and me dancing at the bar crawl.

Yo, am I crazy or is this the Prince of Ardenia? says the caption. It’s already racked up over twenty thousand views.

“This sprung up overnight and went viral, Your Highness,” I hear Agnes say in Nick’s phone.