Page 60 of Heavy Crown

Slowly, he returns me upright.

There’s a burst of applause, and I glance around, conscious of the people taking pictures or videos. Sometimes it’s too easy to forget he’s not just the Alex who comes to my cottage, but the man who will soon run this country. Tonight has been a glaring reminder several times over.

I give a nervous smile and run my hands along my dress.

“Thank you for the dance,” Alex says before releasing my hand.

Then we’re enveloped by people, and the heaviness across my shoulders returns.

Part of me thought Alex might knock on my door once the party quieted, but there’s been nothing. No brisk knuckles on my door, no text message, and no acknowledgement when I left the ball with Posey.

My phone buzzes on my bedside table. From my position, Posey’s name is lit on the screen. The evening, rather than being this amazing experience, was anticlimactic. Other than the five minutes I spent twirling around the dance floor with Alex, nothing else registered. I hated being in the same room as him and not being with him.

I understand that’s a problem.

A big problem.

Friends don’t feel that way about each other.

I’m not sure Alex and I are friends. But if we’re not, what are we?

My phone buzzes again. Another text from Posey.

With a sigh, I snatch it off the nightstand.

You’re trending. Check out the link.

She attached a series of links, and each one I click on causes my pulse to pound in my ears. Anonymous accounts have posted photos and videos of my dance with Alex. Once I get past the headlines about Disney princesses and fairy-tale romances, I click on the photo someone took of Alex dipping me.

Our gazes are connected, and even through the lens of the camera on social media, we look completely enamored with each other. The look Posey claimed she spotted on Alex’s face when he saw me in the receiving line is there in the photo. Unmistakable. There is no doubt I’m important to him. It’s not a trick of the light or the right angle. There are dozens of photos splashed across social media of our dance, and in every single one, we’re looking at each other as though no one else exists.

He wanted to give them something real. Is this what he meant?

My phone buzzes again in my hand.

Derrick.

I click on the message.

Café Plutus. Next Saturday. They just called me with a cancellation. Can’t wait to get a chance to explain in person. I miss you, babe.

Explain what? I literally caught him having sex with someone else. Is there a way to explain that? I’m tempted to cancel, but what is brewing between me and Alex is threatening to bubble over. Maybe a meal with Derrick will give me some perspective.

I toss my phone toward the end of my bed. Whatever Derrick wants, a reconciliation won’t be in the cards. Wise or not, my heart now beats for someone else.

twenty-three

Alex

The evidence of my folly is spread out before me, not that I didn’t realize my mistake before I was summoned to this meeting with Desmond, the king, and the queen. As soon as our dance ended and what was left of the crowd applauded, I understood I shouldn’t have been led astray by Rory’s melancholy in the midst of my father’s birthday party. Whether she had a good time wasn’t my responsibility. I spent the entire night talking to people about the referendum and the coronation, while keeping half an eye on her. No matter where she was in the room, I could find her with a glance.

Her arrival at the ball in the green dress inspired the most intense sense of déjà vu I’ve ever experienced. As though she and I had lived the night before. So vivid and disorienting. A dream inside a dream.

The overwhelming sensation led me to avoid her most of the night. When I finally worked up the nerve to sidle up to her, I couldn’t stand how sad she seemed. To realize my avoidance had such an impact on her made me want to change the course of her evening.

If my parents can be believed, I might have changed the course of my life as well.

“It’s a gossip rag,” I say, and I toss the international magazine onto my father’s desk. “Having the press say we’re involved with each other doesn’t make it so.”