Page 86 of American Royals

“I don’t know, the one on the corner?” It took Nina a moment to realize what he’d just said. “Wait—are you here?”

There was the sound of a car door slamming. “Look, at least let me deliver this Wawa chocolate shake. Especially after I waited for it and everything.”

“You went to Wawa yourself?” Nina tried, and failed, to imagine Jeff standing in line. The entire store must have asked for selfies with him.

“I had to make sure they gave you extra M&M’s. Obviously.”

Before Nina could answer, a commotion rose up behind her. She felt everyone’s eyes swivel abruptly toward the front door, then to Nina and back again, as if observing a tennis match. Nina knew even before she turned around what she would see.

It was Prince Jefferson George Alexander Augustus, his phone pressed to one ear, holding a Wawa milkshake in a plastic cup. “I’m here,” he said unnecessarily, still speaking into the phone. Nina had the surreal sensation of hearing his voice in her ear and, at the same time, several yards away from her.

No one was even pretending not to stare, but Nina didn’t care anymore.

She hung up and started toward the prince. He looked oddly nervous, as if he still wasn’t sure how she would react to him. Neither was Nina.

“As promised, your delivery,” Jeff declared, handing over the Wawa milkshake. Nina took a small sip to cover her confusion.

“Jeff!” Rachel exclaimed in her upbeat, bouncing way. She’d ignored his titles, Nina noticed in a daze, which Jeff would appreciate, and held out her hand rather than curtsying. “It’s so good to meet you. I’m Rachel Greenbaum.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Jeff replied. “And might I say, you have excellent taste in names for your goldfish.”

“You told him!” Rachel rounded on Nina, though she didn’t sound upset. “Before you judge me, you should know that every girl on our hallway has a poster of you in her dorm room, except Nina.” She gave a mischievous grin. “I get it, though. Why have a poster of you when she’s already got the real thing?”

“The real thing is much more work, trust me,” Nina countered, only somewhat teasing.

Jeff’s eyes gleamed. “But would the poster deliver you on-demand milkshakes?”

Against her better judgment, Nina ventured a step closer. Her mind was throbbing with confusion.

“Is there somewhere we can talk? In private?” Jeff asked.

“You could go upstairs to the study,” Rachel suggested. “I guarantee that no one will be working right now.”

“There’s a study here?”

“Frat boys have homework too.” Rachel shrugged, her eyes drifting to Jeff. “Actually, Jeff, they say that your uncle and your father both wrote their senior theses in that room.”

Neither Nina nor Jeff spoke as they traipsed up the stairs and down the hallway, his security detail hovering alongside them.

The study was lined with shelves of old books, a pair of circular tables gathered beneath bank-style iron lamps. Nina held her breath as the protection officer stationed himself outside and pulled the door shut. She set the Wawa cup on the table; her stomach was too twisted with anxiety for a milkshake right now.

“Jeff, why did you come?”

“To see you,” he said, as if it were self-evident.

“No, I mean—why did you come tonight?” After I’ve been avoiding you since last week, she didn’t need to add.

“Sam told me that she came by. She also told me what you said, about how hard it’s been, being involved with our family all these years. I’m so sorry for making you feel that way.” His eyes were downcast. “And then last night, after Beatrice’s engagement interview, when I saw all those people crowding around her and Teddy outside the palace—I should have realized that was why you wanted to keep our relationship a secret. Anyway,” he said clumsily, “I really am sorry.”

He sucked in his breath before his next question, as if he couldn’t bear to ask but couldn’t bear not to.

“Nina … what’s going on with us? Are we going to be okay?”

Nina trailed a hand along the spines of the nearby books. She couldn’t help noticing that they weren’t arranged in any kind of order, not alphabetically or by the Dewey decimal system or even by color. A perverse part of her wanted to pull them all out, catalog them, then put them back on the shelves properly.

“I meant what I said earlier,” Jeff added, rambling into the silence. “The way that the media have been treating you is completely out of line. I’m so sorry for my part in it.”

“I know.” Nina wasn’t quite ready to say, It’s okay.