“We had a misunderstanding about Aramis. I didn’t cheat on David, not that he and I were official or anything, but still. It was . . . a misunderstanding.”
“Hm.” Pilar stared at me as Adeline blinked, as if she was confused by all of this.
“But you hate Aramis,” she said finally. I lifted the glass to my lips again.
“I don’t hate him. I just . . . well, in any event, you know what they say about love and hate. I mean, look at you and Elias.”
“True.” Adeline frowned slightly. “I guess it does make sense.”
“I always had a feeling you were secretly in love with my brother.”
“Love?” I sputtered, choking on my tea. “I never said I was in love with him. I said we’re going to try this out. The dating thing.”
“Love is a possibility though.” Adeline smiled wide.
“And then we’d all be sisters,” Pilar added with a mischievous smile of her own.
“No. I’m . . . please don’t start.” I shot them a pointed look. “We’re supposed to be planning Pilar’s wedding and setting everything up for the baby and neither of you have paid any attention to that so don’t even think about a wedding between Aramis and me.”
“I think I want to elope,” Pilar said, a whispered admission.
“What?” Adeline and I both shouted.
“You can’t elope; your mother will kill us all,” Adeline said.
“My mother isn’t even here for holiday anymore. She fucked things up with my brothers, and with me as a matter of fact, and well, I’m an adult and I’ll do what I want.”
“Okay well then I’m speaking up against it,” Adeline said. “You’ll regret not having a wedding. My God, can you imagine what the newspapers will say about their very own princess not sharing her big day with them?”
“Who cares about them? They’ve never treated us fairly before.”
“They’ve watched you grow up,” I said softly. “They’ll want to continue watching you grow up. Besides, it’s not like you can escape them.”
“My entire life has been a media circus. I want this to be mine. Intimate.”
“So we’ll make it intimate. Family and friends only.”
“Ben has a million family members.”
“And you think Ben’s mother is going to just let him run off and elope?” I raised an eyebrow.
“I guess not.” Pilar scowled. “Maybe we can just do it here. They’ll be here for Christmas anyway.”
“In a week,” I said. “That’s a week from now.”
“Less than a week.” Adeline looked worried. “It’s like five days from now.”
“Do you think we can pull it off?” Pilar bit her lip.
“I know we can. Do you want media invited or not?”
Pilar looked at Adeline, who without saying a word made her stance clear: yes to the media. Pilar sighed heavily and glanced at me.
“I’ll make sure only the really nice ones are invited,” I said. “Maybe we should consider selling the photos to a magazine?” I looked at Adeline.
“I’m not sure Elias would be okay with that considering he’s still trying to win over the public after his father’s awful reign.” She cringed. “No offense, P.”
“None taken.” Pilar shrugged. “So, five days. Oh my God. I need to go tell the groom.” She stood up as we all laughed. Ben was going to flip out.
“Well, I guess we better get to work,” Adeline said, standing. “I have to go tell Eli about this. You can keep telling me about this new . . . boyfriend of yours later.”
“Wait.”
She turned around, hand on the door.
“Should I write something for the media . . . about Aramis and me?”
“I don’t see why you have to.” She shrugged a shoulder. “They’ll be too focused on the wedding to care.”
As she walked out of the room, I realized that it was something I should be happy about, but wasn’t.
Chapter Seventeen
It had been three days since I’d spoken to Aramis. I’d seen him, of course. He popped his head into every room Adeline, Pilar, and I were working in to make a sly remark about us running out of time. Typical Aramis shit. I was busy. Busy with flowers and catering. Busy with security and narrowing down magazines and journalists. Busy trying to convince the Queen Mother that she needed to return to Versailles in time for the wedding, and that was where my patience was running thin. I was used to the royal family. Used to their inconveniences and demands and even their occasional meltdowns when they didn’t get their way. I thought myself lucky, since I knew how to navigate all of that, how to ensure everyday life would run smoothly for them. The Queen Mother I did not know how to handle. There was no manual on how to deal with a sixty-six-year-old spoiled brat who was so used to getting her way that she didn’t stop to consider there were other ways. She was upset she didn’t get to pick the color of Pilar’s bridesmaids’ dresses (Pilar chose light pink, the Queen Mother wanted red). She was annoyed about the flowers (“there won’t be any poppies in the photographs”). She was even upset that Pilar did not want to hire a famous singer, the way Elias and Adeline had at their wedding, and threatened she’d call someone and hire them behind our backs. It was as though I’d silently been moved from Aramis’s secretary to the Queen Mother’s handler and if that was the case, I definitely needed a raise. Dealing with imbeciles was beneath my paygrade.