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“Who chose it for you, then?”
“It’s what my father always wanted for me. And sure, there were a few years in the beginning when I considered begging off to do other things. But after the trial, after T—” He trails off.
After … what? I lean forward.
The muscle in Frederick’s jaw flexes and he shakes his head. “Suffice it to say that I’m content, Chloe. Can we please just leave it at that?”
No. Because I want to know more. So much more. Like what makes this man tick. What makes him so good? Why is he so loyal to my family after everything we’ve put him through? Even I can see that my father holds him at a distance. He could have saved his old friend a world of pain and hurt by re-welcoming him into the palace after the trial, but I think a part of him doesn’t believe Martin was actually innocent of selling secrets to the spies who then plotted his assassination.
It’s a wonder Father’s allowed Frederick to stay, honestly. But Topher wouldn’t stand to have his best mate thrown out into the streets, and my father—who can be strict when he wants to be—doesn’t desire discord with his son, the future king.
So that answers the question of why my family has allowed Frederick to stay on as a bodyguard—but it doesn’t really say why Frederick has done so.
However, I sense he’s said all he’s willing to right now, so I dust off my hands and stand. “Sure. We can leave it at that.”
For now.
ten
FREDERICK
I still don’t understand how Chloe’s gone months in America without being recognized. After all, she draws attention wherever she goes, especially today in those trousers that hug her hips and that pink top that’s an innocent tease with the way it cuts straight across her body, leaving her shoulders bare.
Not that I blame the bloke who’s rubbernecking as we pass him on the boardwalk on our way to the dress boutique, but I give him a death stare all the same.
He holds up his hands in the universal “sorry, man” gesture and continues on his way as we saunter south, past Rainbow Ice and The Green Robin.
Meanwhile, Chloe just keeps talking on the phone, unaware of anything amiss. But that’s what I’m here for, after all, and so far, it hasn’t been too difficult to keep her safe. Hopefully that continues.
“Oh, I’m so glad you thought of that, Shelby.” Chloe’s voice is filled with excitement and much more confidence than yesterday. Of course, this afternoon’s search hasn’t yielded any more promising leads on a venue, but I’m thankful she seems to have her pep back. “Yes, that’s perfect.” A pause, then a nod. “Good. Yay! This is working out so well. Just be sure to bill me for it, okay? No, no excuses. This was my idea and that’s going to be my wedding gift to them.” She laughs again and her whole face—or what I can see of it from the side, anyhow—lights up.
I know I should focus on the surroundings, including the late-afternoon beachgoers lounging on the sand, playing their music and tossing discs around, but I allow myself three seconds to just watch her.
She brightens the whole town more than the sun, which finally decided to show itself about an hour ago.
“Okay, and the guys … did they agree to do the thing? Yes? Ooo, Lauren is going to love it so much. Topher is on board, though he says I’m ridiculous for asking.” She nods, grinning. “Mmm-hmm. Yep. Okay, bye!” When Chloe hangs up, we’ve arrived at the back of the Just Peachy Boutique, where apparently Chloe will be trying on dresses to find something that will work for the wedding. The ladies—that is, Chloe plus Lauren’s friends from San Diego—all decided to get their own bridesmaid dresses in whatever color they wanted because Lauren is spontaneous and “will love it.”
“Good news?” I ask as I open the door to the aptly colored peach building.
“Shelby remembered a wedding dress Lauren loved when they were shopping for Shelby’s dress. At the time, she wouldn’t try it on, but Shelby thought it would look perfect on her. Last night she went back to the shop, and they still have it—and in Lauren’s size.” Chloe kisses her fingertips and flings them in the air. “It’s fate!”
“That’s great.”
We step inside the boutique, which is small-ish like most of the shops on Main Street, but well lit and clearly organized, every inch of space used well and clearly marked, with everything from trousers to shirts to dresses, mostly for women. The formal gowns—including a handful of wedding dresses—are in a separate space, hanging from a rack in the back corner of the store, where there’s also a bank of mirrors and a raised dais overlooking two chairs, likely for the token male who inevitably has to accompany a woman inside.
A few other female customers browse the casual section, but thankfully no one is currently in the back section. Fewer eyes mean less attention on Chloe.
“Hi, there. I’m Stephanie.” A short woman approaches. She looks only slightly older than us, with dark spiked hair and a casual dress paired with trainers, and she’s wearing a large smile. Much more approachable than Betsy from the Moon Bay Inn, I dare say. Her eyes study Chloe and widen slightly. Is that recognition I see there? Hmm. But then her grin moves to me, and she continues as if nothing is amiss. Perhaps I imagined her reaction. “How can I help you today?”
“Hi, Stephanie!” Chloe chirps as she slides her hand into mine like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “I’m here to look at some of the formal gowns.” Then she leans her head on my shoulder and rests her other hand on my upper arm.
“Awesome. Any special occasions?” The woman rubs her hands together and raises her brows.
Chloe just laughs. “A wedding.”
“Yours or someone else’s?”
Chloe leans closer. “I’m not here to look at traditional wedding dresses, but …” She holds up her left hand, wiggles her fingers, and winks.
