Page 38 of How to Date a Prince (Being Royal #1)
Chapter Twenty-Nine
O ver the next week, back at Buckingham Palace, I try to get used to the new reality of my physical limits in familiar surroundings.
I sit in the garden for fresh air in the shade where I once sat with my mum, watch the shadows creep across the garden, and listen to the songbirds in the heart of this urban oasis.
In the dappled sun, filtered through the leaves, I try to forget Thomas, the media uproar, and everything else.
I start to reach out to everyone who’s messaged me and do my best to provide assurances I’m okay. Especially after I get a text from Theodor.
You’re meant to clear the jumps, not break them xxxxx
To which I respond,
Thought it more memorable to do a header into it instead x
Another text comes from Gav.
Better luck next time with the horsey set. Anne and I are back at the weekend and desperate to see you.
I ask Katie to come around to the palace, and she does, embracing me when she finds me sitting under a tree on a bench.
“God, Auggie. I’ve never seen your security like this before. I had to call Lauren to vouch for me.”
My eyebrows climb. “That bad?”
She nods. “He did, of course. Just—I’ve been worried sick. I’m so glad to see you.” Katie pushes her long hair over her shoulder as we sit on the bench near the pond. She squeezes my hand. She’s tanned from the summer sun, beaming at the sight of me like she’s discovered some long-lost treasure.
I squeeze back, giving her a warm smile. “It’s a real relief to see you too. I’ve seen way too many doctors and nurses and specialists lately.”
She takes in the sight of my cast over my wrist, the mostly faded scratches on my face. It’s what she can’t see that is the real problem, but I’ll keep that under wraps. She’s done more than enough worrying on my behalf.
“I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner—” I begin in a rush, seeing the way she’s inspecting me in a way like Thomas had peered at me after the accident in the hospital. Like she’s taking inventory. “And I’m still very sorry about how I acted.”
She waves me off. “No, no, I understand. A lot has happened since. And you’ve apologized. Don’t worry about that. God. How are you?”
“I’m alright. Banged up, but here.” I shrug my good shoulder. At least I didn’t break the other one, but the bruising is epic. And my wrist wasn’t so lucky. Surgery was the result.
“A couple of photos were leaked to the press. It’s supposedly you,” Katie explains carefully.
“All you can really see is an ambulance and a crowd of people in a field gathered around something or someone crumpled by a hedge. You can’t really tell who’s who or what’s going on.
It’s super pixelated and zoomed in from far away, quite possibly taken on an iPhone 3. ”
It sounds accurate enough.
“Someone decided to torpedo their NDA, I guess.” The uncharitable part of me immediately goes to Wilson, who seems like the sort who would enjoy profiting off the misfortunes of others.
He certainly doesn’t need the payoff from the tabloid—he’d be in it purely to thrive off the misery of others.
He has all the personality of a barracuda.
Except I don’t want to insult barracudas, and maybe barracudas have very nice, respectable families and friends I don’t know anything about.
Maybe if I’m up to it later, I’ll search the image online, though I generally try to follow the advice of our communications team not to look myself up in the paper.
It’s rarely something I want to read about.
“What about Thomas? He was in the accident too.”
Katie shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s too blurry. That photo just came out yesterday. I’m sure they’ll be analyzing it on the 6 o’clock news and in the tabloids.”
“I was truly hoping things had died down by now. I can’t be that interesting.”
“They’re escalating, I’m afraid. Princegate is growing legs.” Katie gives me a level look. “People want more. A lot more. Not less. They are, in fact, greedy for you.”
A groan escapes me. “Great. What else? Tell me.”
Katie’s lips twist, her gaze flitting away, then back again. “How do you know there’s more?”
“There’s always more. You just said Princegate, after all. Like, that’s really not good.”
“There are, um, rumors flying around about you and Thomas Golden,” she says as delicately as she can muster, turning a fine shade of pink. “And maybe there’s a photo of you together.”
“A photo? Together…how?” I cringe at the thought. Like us getting caught out at the bothy. All air evaporates from my lungs. It takes me a minute to suck back some air and reintroduce it to my lungs like long-lost acquaintances. “What photo? What kind of rumors?” I ask warily.
“You know perfectly well what kind of rumors. The tabloids are implying you were secretly dating. There’s a photo of Thomas looking smitten, but you can’t see the other person he’s fawning over, only the back of his head.
Which I’m confident is your head, since I know you, but the average viewer doesn’t know that.
So now, I’m sure everyone’s going crazy either trying to find actual proof of you together or making something convincing up if they can’t get genuine material. ”
It’s yet to be seen exactly how diabolical Giselle is in her vision of Renaissance Man —her instructions to the film crew—which I understood to be a talent show but instead seems to be a platform to pit me and Thomas against each other for ratings in the name of being either for or against the Crown.
I mean, I can totally see how that would be great for ratings.
It’s a real shame it’s not great for either one of us.
Would she go so far as to leak a blurry intimate photo of me with Thomas to promote the show over everything else? Including NDAs?
I don’t want the real answer to that question.
Color drains from my face. If I wasn’t officially doomed before with Princegate, this seals the deal.
It doesn’t make me feel one bit better that the rumor will be just as terrible for Thomas as it is for me.
Somewhere, Daniel Golden’s got to be apoplectic, and I can’t imagine who would be more enraged, Thomas’ father or mine at the rumor mill.
I glance around. At least there are no videographers here and no staff outside right now.
My shoulders tighten, and then I try to shrug it off with a wince.
“Where did you see that? I mean, I’m sure people have better things to do than manufacture some innuendo… ”
Katie shrugs. “The usual places. Hello! , TMZ , The Sun , you name it.” She searches my eyes, biting her lip as she shifts. Color rises in her cheeks again. “But is any of it true?”
“I…” I falter, searching her eyes. Out of all the people I know, aside from Thomas, I owe Katie the truth. “You’re sure you want to know? I could come up with a whopper of a lie instead, which would be far more memorable.”
She presses her lips together, and then a smile peeks out for a moment as she rolls her eyes. “Come clean.”
“We were, err, involved. Briefly. But it’s over now. Very over.” I give her a sidelong glance, unable to help myself. My fingers tighten. I run a hand through my hair as the breeze rustles leaves overhead. The gardens before us bloom in a riot of colors at the height of summer: pink, purple, red.
“And… Thomas Golden?” she asks at last.
“Thomas. What about him?” I lean back against the bench, trying to look totally relaxed when I have approximately zero chill about Thomas. Even though I know better.
“What exactly happened? I mean…” She glances away in an effort to compose herself. “Aside from the obvious. Why him? Of all the men out there?”
“Distraction. An opposites-attract sort of thing.” I cough.
Then a shiver ripples up my spine as I imagine the silk of his skin against mine, the comfort of lying in his arms. The amazing sound of his laugh and how special he makes me feel.
It’s far more than distraction. Even thinking about him makes me light-headed.
Or maybe that’s the head injury talking.
“Right.”
“Promise not to tell anyone?”
She rolls her eyes. “Of course I won’t.”
I hesitate. Even though she’s putting on a stoic front, I check in. “Are you okay hearing this…?”
Katie nods, impatient. She twists her hair, waiting for me to continue, her lips slightly pursed.
“I… was really starting to like him. A lot. A scary amount sort of a lot. Like, unreasonably.”
“And?”
“And?” My eyes widen. I gesture at the looming palace behind us, at the bustling city beyond. “ And. And my life doesn’t belong to me. They have dibs, remember?”
She nods again, looking caught like she’s about to say something, then thinks better of it.
“Now what?” I ask after her expression. “Tell me.”
“Thomas Golden’s been on his social media, saying he’s going to another anti-monarchy protest next weekend. I guess the campaign against the King decided to take advantage of all the media interest in the palace. Err, in you, specifically.”
I blink. Unable to keep the hurt from my face, I clear my throat. Twice. “It’s his life. He can do what he wants. He doesn’t need to explain himself to me. He can go to every anti-monarchy rally across the country. I totally don’t mind. It’s absolutely fine. Perfect, actually.”
Katie looks at me like she knows better.
“Especially after I kept pushing him away. And…then he shut me down. Because I acted like an arse. With how I treated you, actually. And then after the accident… he was there and I was there and then the real world showed up.” There’s a twist in my chest. I smooth my jeans with a hand, looking down.
I deflate like a party balloon still hanging on a week after the party.
“I still miss him. But this is exactly why he put an end to it.”
Katie’s quiet beside me. She shifts. “Oh.”
“Oh.” I lift my head. “But it doesn’t make the end hurt any less, I have to say.”
Katie squeezes my hand again. Birds flit past. The afternoon is warm, everything fresh around us like some misplaced optimism. I crave a rain cloud or two, even a storm.
A familiar fatigue starts to creep in. Fatigue and confusion over Thomas and unexpected hurt. “I need to go lie down,” I admit wryly. “But—would you please tell me if anything else comes out other than rumors?”
Something doubtless my father has heard all the rumors in the news too. The idea is totally mortifying. And if he hasn’t, he will find out when the series airs.