Page 139 of The Thing About My Prince

It was hard not to accept his offer to pick me up at the airport and whisk me off to his new place. And, boy, I am desperate to see him, and touch him, and kiss him, and oh my God to get naked with him. But I knew after the long journey, which involved kicking my heels at Cairo airport for a few hours on a layover, I’d want to wash and sleep off the flight and make myself look as presentable as possible first.

I want our first evening back together to be something extra special that we reminisce about for years to come.

I go to grab my dress that’s hanging on the back of the door where I steamed it earlier. It’s spent so many years squished in my closet between all the other nice clothes I never wear that it was a mass of creases.

“Wow.” Becca sits up when I pull the black-and-white-polka dot dress over my head. “I’d forgotten what you look like when you make an effort.”

“Gee, the compliments keep rolling in this evening.” I shimmy the wide neck down until it’s off my shoulders.

“Seriously, you look fucking gorgeous. Like the actual princess you’re about to become.”

“I’m not about to become a princess. Could you zip me up, please?” I back up to the end of the bed.

“You’ll have a…what is it they call them? Oh yeah, alady-in-waitingto do stuff like this for you before too long.” She sayslady-in-waitingwith an over-the-top posh English accent.

“We will not have staff like that.”

“We. See? You saidwe. You’re totally already married.”

“His parents’ heads would explode if we’d done that secretly, without bagpipes and flags.” I roll my eyes. Ugh, the thought of having to deal with them isn’t the greatest, but it will be a small price to pay for being with Oliver.

His new Soho loft looks gorgeous. He’s given me a tour over the phone, and I can’t wait to see it in person. It’s a monumental move for him because it’s the first home in New York he’s paid for himself. And he’s able to do that because we’ve received the first payment from the streaming service after submitting our treatment for the first season of the documentary series.

“This bag is perfect. Thank you.” I hold up the small lime green purse Becca’s lent me. It’s a designer number, but I don’t recall the name.

At the sound of a car horn in the street below, she hops off the bed and pulls back the sheer curtain just enough to peek around it. “Big, shiny black car about the size of this apartment. I guess your royal chariot awaits.”

“Okay, now I’m nervous.” My belly is doing flips and flops and somersaults and cartwheels. I press a hand to it. “And awkward. And like I’m going to make a fool of myself.”

“Dude, you’ll be fine.” She crosses the room and hugs me. “You’ve been having video-chat sex for weeks. And nothing could be more embarrassing than that.”

The poor driver’s been standing by the back door of the car since I walked outside, which feels like it was half an hour ago given how slowly and carefully I’m making my way down the front steps of my building. After six weeks in desert boots, these heels feel like a bad joke. And the last thing I want is to spend my first date with Oliver at urgent care.

The nerves don’t help. But that’s silly, because we’vetalked so much now that it already feels like we’re in a solid, committed relationship.

At least I’ll have a few minutes alone in the car to pull myself together before we get to wherever Oliver’s meeting me. He refused to say where we’re going tonight, but since it’s early evening, I assume we’ll be eating somewhere.

Finally, I make it to the sidewalk with all my bones intact and teeter toward the driver, who opens the door.

“Thank you,” I say, as I duck my head into the car.

“Good evening.” The unexpected sight of Oliver’s mischievous smile as he holds up two glasses of champagne jolts my heart and makes me jump, sending me stumbling back in shock.

“What are you doing here?” Trying to regain my balance, I end up inelegantly falling onto the back seat beside him.

“Whoa!” He fights to keep the glasses level to prevent the champagne from sloshing out. “Aren’t you pleased to see me?”

“Very. Just surprised.” I adjust my dress and black wool coat and generally try to tidy myself up before I take the glass he’s handing to me. “I thought I had a few minutes to get over my first-date jitters.”

“Do you often go on first dates with men you’ve already slept with multiple times?”

“I find it’s best to get that out of the way first. You know, figure out if that part’s compatible. And if it isn’t…” I shrug.

“Well, I’m happy to have passed that test.” He taps his glass against mine and leans in for a kiss.

“You’re going to get covered in lipstick.” The words are barely out before his lips connect with mine, and all my worries, all my stress, all my nerves disappear on the wave of calm that comes with the touch of his mouth against mine.

I never knew it was possible for someone to turn me on yet also make me feel comfortingly safe all at the same time.