Page 39 of Heavy Crown

“Something for me to look forward to.” She smiles.

Before I can second-guess myself, I brush my lips against her temple, and she curls her fingers around the lapel of my jacket, keeping me close. The action tugs at my heartstrings.

“Rest up,” I say. “I need you in the kitchen making the rest of my family fat so they won’t notice how round I’ve gotten.”

She seems to realize she’s holding onto me, and she lets go with a self-conscious laugh. “You’ll give me a big head.”

“It’s a lovely shaped head. Even twice its size, that wouldn’t change.” I step backward into the night, and the warm island air closes around me.

“I would look rather strange with a head twice the normal size,” she says in her terrible British accent.

I shake my head.

She beams in response. “I sense a side hustle coming on. Two words. Accent lessons.”

“Three words.” I hold up my fingers while she leans against the open door. “Noise-canceling headphones.”

Her delighted giggle follows me down the path as I head to the palace, and I rub a hand across my chest, surprised at the glowing warmth the fading sound inspires.

sixteen

Rory

Every night since our friendship chat, sometimes late, sometimes early, Alex has sent me a two-word text. Each time the words ‘you up?’ light up my phone, my heart kicks and then gallops. A cool sweat breaks out under my armpits, and whether I’m in bed or puttering around the kitchen, my response is always ‘yes’ because any other answer is unfathomable. He is the highlight, the gleaming spot of brightness, in an unending day of semi-boredom.

Walks across the property alone have given me a chance to explore, but I often feel like an intruder in someone else’s life. There is a series of barns on the other side of the sprawling palace, but I haven’t had the guts to check them out yet. What sorts of things do royals keep? Pets? Livestock?

If I ask Alex, there’s a fifty-fifty chance he’ll answer. He’s capable of evading a direct question like no one I’ve ever met. Must be the politician in him. He prides himself on being blunt and direct, but I’ve come to realize he picks and chooses when. He reminds me of a designer puzzle—meant to be solved once by someone special enough to crack him. What will I find inside if I’m lucky enough to pry the door to his inner self open?

Tomorrow, he leaves for Europe, and he told me he wasn’t sure he’d have time to stop by tonight. I’ve picked up my phone a thousand times already even though I realize he’s never texted me before dinner. On top of that, he doesn’t send random chitchat throughout the day. I get the two words and my chance to head down this path with him that, when he’s not around, feels dangerous and exhilarating. But when he’s within sight, I’m thrilled and intrigued.

There’s a knock on my door, and I answer it, expecting Desmond. Other than my one visit with Julia and Brice, Desmond is my only regular guest. But it’s not Desmond, and I don’t actually know who it is. There’s a cool breeze across the island today, and she’s dressed in jeans and a thin pale-pink sweater. Her light-brown hair is secured in a high ponytail.

Is she a worker? Something about her appearance is familiar. She’s standing behind a cart laden with flowers, boxes of chocolates, and a larger cardboard box.

“Oh, hey, I’m Posey.” She gives an awkward wave. “I think you’ve met my sister? Julia? Alex sent me. Said you could use a friend.”

I close my eyes and suppress a groan. “He said that to you?”

“Don’t worry,” she says with a laugh. “I’m used to Alex. Also—I’m sort of an expert on the royal family and their staff.” She winks. “Stick with me, and you’ll know who to avoid.”

Despite my embarrassment, I can’t help returning her exuberant smile. While Julia was kind but serious, Posey possesses the same air as Brice. I realize my impression of Julia isn’t complete because I’ve seen photos of her laughing with Nick in the papers with a joyous teasing similar to what Posey is giving me now.

“I could use some inside information,” I admit.

“I’m your girl.” Posey points to herself. “But before I’m that girl, I seem to have turned into a delivery person? These were in the front entrance, and after some grumbling, Alex agreed to let me bring them. Apparently, they’ve been accumulating the last couple of days?”

I cock my head, and I scan the cart again. Flowers. Chocolates. Rollerblades? “It was my birthday a few days ago.” Who would possibly send me these gifts to the palace? A few of Derrick’s friends texted me, but I haven’t responded to anyone. I’m not even sure what to tell people about my current situation. Eventually, I’ll be working. For now, I’m living, quite literally, off the royal estate’s charity. Better known as Alex’s charity.

“Maybe that’s it,” Posey agrees. “Can I wheel this in? I’ll take it back when I leave.”

I step away from the entrance to let her push the cart into my tiny space. She butts it against the closet. There’s a card perched in the first set of flowers, and the seal is unbroken. Why would Alex keep this from me? I’m puzzled as I rip open the card.

Not giving up, babe.

He didn’t sign it, but the babe makes me sure it’s from Derrick. Each card has a similar message. Nothing about my birthday. No direct apology. There are a series of veiled “take me back” and “stop being unreasonable” comments. I sigh.

“Not about your birthday, I take it?” Posey asks from the couch.