Her Royal Highness (Royals #2) - Rachel Hawkins Page 0,83

new museum exhibit opening about Scottish royal weddings, and they’re all going to that this morning, then there’s a procession down the Mile. Dammit! I knew I should’ve looked at their social calendar, but I was quite”—another hand wave—“swept up in everything, I suppose.”

“Glad you find my love life so sweeping,” I mutter, leaning forward to take Saks’s phone from her hand. Sure enough, there’s the announcement about the museum exhibit, complete with Flora’s name in bold type.

“We’re halfway there,” Perry says, glancing over at Saks. “We can always get to Edinburgh and hang out for a bit. They have to go back to the palace eventually.”

They do, and they will, I’m sure, and that’s a great plan, just grabbing some lunch there in the city and waiting.

Or . . .

Swallowing hard, I hand Saks back her phone. “By the time we get there, the parade will be starting,” I say. “We can just go there.”

Saks twists in her seat, her dark eyes wide. “Millicent Quint,” she breathes. “Are you telling me—”

I give a firm nod. “I am.”

Squealing, Saks claps her hands, and Perry looks over again, clearly confused, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. “What?”

“Big Romantic Gesture!” Saks cries. “Millie is going to declare her love in public! Oh my god, I think I might start weeping.”

“And I think I might start vomiting, so please don’t,” I say, settling into the back seat, an entire colony of butterflies in my chest. Maybe that’s what makes the drive go by so much faster than I’d thought, because before I know it, we’re pulling into the city.

Parking the car, Perry gestures for me to get out. “The parade is going down the Mile,” he says, “so all you have to do is get to the front, wait for Flora to pass by, and tell her you love her.”

I stare at him, my palm suddenly sweaty on the handle. “Right,” I say, but it comes out a croak, so I clear my throat and start again. “Right.”

“Easy peasy!” Saks says, then, thank god, she opens the door. “I’ll come with, though, just to make sure.”

“Well, I’m not missing out,” Perry says, turning the car off, and I smile at the two of them, feeling a little choked up all of a sudden.

“Y’all are really good friends, you know that?” I say, and they both grin at me.

“Of course we do,” Saks says, and then we’re heading down one of the little side streets and up toward the Mile.

There’s a series of barricades set up, and a crowd has already gathered around them in the cold autumn air. We’re toward the back, but I can hear pipers and drummers, and when I rise up on my tiptoes, I can see the royal family making their way down past St. Giles’s.

Flora is in the middle of her brothers as they make their way through the crowd, her hair pulled back from her face. She’s smiling and shaking hands, taking the occasional bouquet of flowers and thanking people before handing them off to a man in a black suit.

Just looking at her makes my chest ache. She’s so good at this, even though she’d swear she’s not. But I can see the way people look at her, can tell from her smile that it’s sincere. She’s never looked more like a princess to me, even when she was all decked out in the tiaras and sashes.

But she’s not just a princess.

She’s my princess.

Aaaaand she’s way too far away for me to get her attention.

Turning back to Sakshi and Perry, I shake my head. “This is stupid,” I say. “I can just email her or—”

“NO!” they shout in unison before glancing at each other and doing those soppy smiles they do all the time now.

Then Perry grabs my hand. “Millie, this requires a big gesture. Emails are not big. Emails aren’t even medium-sized.”

“My boyfriend is right,” Saks says, and then, yes, once again, the cutesy smiles. They actually touch noses, and it would be gross if I didn’t love them both, but Sakshi quickly shakes herself and says, “Not the time. Anyway, what Perry said. You are winning back the woman you love, and that means an email simply will not do. So.”

Reaching down, she plucks a bouquet out of a little girl’s hands. When the little girl, her hair as bright as Perry’s, opens her mouth to protest, Saks rummages through her pink Chanel purse, pulling out her wallet and phone before handing the