“I’ll pick you up at seven.”
***
“Have you lost your fucking mind?”
Jacob’s staring at me like I just told him I’m donating both kidneys.
I immediately drove back to the lodge from Nina’s house and sought out my best friend to tell him my plan.
“Not the last time I checked, no.”
“This is never going to work, mate. Your parents will kill you.”
“Probably not kill. I guess they could have my disappearance arranged, but that hasn’t happened in many years. They’re much more civilized in their advanced ages.”
“This isn’t funny.”
“It’s also not the end of the fucking world,” I remind him. “Jacob, your parents didn’t choose a wife for you. You weren’t in a fucking prison, just because of your birthright.”
“I could understand going against their wishes if you found the love of your life and she was American. But that’s not the case here. You don’t love Nina.”
“But I’m the one choosing her.” I push my hands through my hair in frustration. “I will not marry someone my father chooses. You know him.”
“Okay, so little thought to your happiness and all thought to what’s best for the throne would go into the selection of the woman.”
“Exactly. Not to mention, this law is archaic. It’s ridiculous. This is not 1675, when the life expectancy of a man was forty if he was lucky. I’m not in danger of never having children and passing the throne down to other generations for God’s sake.”
“True. Not to mention, they did away with the tradition of marrying inside the bloodlines years ago.”
We stare at each other for a moment, and then I shudder. “Thank Christ for that.”
“But why couldn’t you find a nice British woman? Sebastian, you’ll have to give up the throne if you marry Nina. And that’s if she agrees, which is a long shot. No offense, but Nina isn’t exactly the type of woman who does what she’s told.”
“All the more reason that I like her. I don’t want a woman who’s been groomed to agree to everything I say. I want a challenge.”
“Nina is challenging.”
“She also understands what it means to be with a celebrity. She can handle scandals. She understands the press, the paparazzi. She knows what this life is like, better than anyone else. I never wanted the throne,” I say quietly. “I told you that in university.”
“I thought it would pass.”
“It hasn’t. Frederick has always been the one who should inherit the throne. He’ll be an excellent king. He’s already married to Catherine, who’s amazing, and they have two children.”
“But Fred’s not the eldest son.”
I shrug. “He should have been. Abdicating the throne is not something I take lightly. I understand the scandal. I understand it’ll hurt my family. But, Jacob, I don’t want it. If I could stop being royalty altogether, I would.”
“No, you wouldn’t.”
I feel my lips twitch. “Okay, I wouldn’t. But I do have a choice about the throne, and whom I choose to marry.”
“When are you going to ask her?”
“I don’t know. Soon. My birthday’s coming up fast.”
“Two months,” Jacob reminds me. “Your mother’s called me three times in the past week to ask when you’re coming home because you won’t call her back.”
“I’ll ring her.”
Jacob shoves his hands into his pockets. “I can’t talk you out of this?”
“No.”
“Okay.” He sighs deeply, but I already know what his next words will be. I can always depend on Jacob. “What do you need from me?”
***
I decide to wait a few days to ask her. I’ll date her and get to know her better before I pop the question.
“You look absolutely amazing this evening.”
It’s true. She’s sitting across from me at Ciao, the local Italian restaurant, reading her menu. Her sundress matches her blue eyes. Her hair is swept up in a pretty knot, and her makeup is tasteful and simple. She glances up at me with a flattered grin.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
The waitress arrives and stumbles through her speech of specials and wine recommendations.
“I’m sorry,” she says with a sigh. “I don’t usually serve a handsome prince.”
“You’re doing smashingly,” I assure her. “I’m just a regular person, you know.”
“Of course,” she says with a shy nod.
I order us a bottle of nice French wine, and we place our food orders. Once the waitress is gone, I reach across the table for Nina’s hand.
She seems surprised but doesn’t pull away.
“How was the rest of your day?” Nina asks.
“Low-key. And yours?”
“Honestly?”
I nod.
“It sucked. But it’s over, and this is my favorite restaurant, so it can only get better, right?”
“Why did you have a bad day?”
The waitress arrives with our wine before Nina can answer. I sniff and taste it, and upon my nod, our glasses are filled, and we’re left alone again.
“This is delicious,” Nina says.
“Don’t avoid my question.”
She smirks. “I tried. Well, it’s kind of a long story.”
“I conveniently have all evening. So, please, tell me the tale..”