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Though it's always been said that celebrities are America's royalty.

The sitting room is huge with several seating areas—the carpet is tartan, the walls dark green. A fire rages in the ornate fireplace. It gives off an intense heat. I've stripped off my wool sweater and am down to a button-up shirt and jeans, my shoes kicked off, legs tucked up onto the couch—mimicking Victoria's pose.

She's wearing black slacks and a thin cashmere sweater that brings out the blue in her eyes. Blonde hair up in an elegant chignon, pearls circling her willowy neck, the princess is effortlessly graceful. "Do you ride?" she asks as our laughter fades.

"Not in a long time." I sip my tea. "But I'll be getting training for my next role."

"Oh, what is it?" she asks, tone eager.

"Promise not to tell anyone," I tease. She grins, her smile whiskey wide.

"Of course."

"We can be trusted with state secrets," Ben says, in a faux serious tone. He's wearing pleated evergreen khakis and a camel hair sweater vest—somehow he makes it work.

“The Last Guardian. It's a sci-fi thriller with lots of sword fights and horseback riding."

"Sounds fun!" Victoria says.

"I'm looking forward to it."

"You should have Omar help you with the sword fighting," Victoria says. "He's a fencing champion."

"Is he?" I say, turning my attention to him.

His dark eyes twinkle at me. "Victoria overestimates my skill."

"Nonsense," Ben says. "He was a champion at Oxford."

"You went to Oxford together?" I ask.

"Yes," Victoria answers. "Omar introduced me to Ben."

"But she refused to date me," Ben adds. "Rejected me outright." Victoria laughs. "It wasn't until she saw me shirtless inDark Symphonythat she deigned to accept my advances."

Ben refers to his breakout role—a coming-of-age film about college-age kids in London that was critically acclaimed. And had a ton of sex in it. My memories of the film are hazy, but I do remember Ben's sculpted body slick with sweat in a dance scene.

Victoria shakes her head. "Absolutely untrue. We were friends. And I'd seen you without a shirt on plenty of times before I agreed to go on a date with you." She turns to me. "He was too much of a player for me."

Ben shifts from where he's standing by the fire to sit next to his wife, putting an arm around her. "I've aged like fine whiskey, wouldn't you say, lass?" He uses an excellent Scottish brogue. Victoria laughs again, leaning into him.

They seem so normal. Cute. When I glance over at Omar, he's smiling at me as if to say:We could be like that. You and me. Happy, normal royals.

Hamish materializes behind the couch. “Your highness.” He bows to Victoria. “The queen is on the phone.”

Surprise flits across Victoria’s face. It doesn't look like she was expecting a call from her grandmother. "Okay." She sits up, Ben's arm falling to her waist. "I'll take it in my office."

Hamish bows and moves away. "Excuse me," Victoria says, the skin around her eyes tight with worry as she slips her loafers back on.

"Of course, I hope everything is okay," I say, my own feet coming to the rug.

She gives me a nervous smile. "I'm sure it is, thank you." Victoria hurries out of the room. Ben watches her go.

"How is the queen?" I ask. The scent of the powdered electrolytes my grandmother's doctor recommended for her dehydration drifts across my consciousness. Sharp lemon and herbal stevia. The spoon clinking against the glass as I stirred it in. The way it would sit next to her bed untouched until she said it was too warm and I had to make another. Another she'd barely sip. Every time I visited her, I made her dozens of glasses of pale yellow electrolytes she barely touched.

"She's doing well," Ben says, leaning forward to grab one of the crustless sandwiches on the coffee table. "I'm sure everything is fine."

"Good." I nod, smiling.