which I have to tell you—it was such a relief when it did. You see, I was waiting for that story to be published. I feel so much better now that it has been, I can’t even tell you. Because now I can give my interviews to the media.”
“What?” she asks sharply. “What do you mean by that?”
“Oh, I believe in complete openness with the media,” I say easily, and Xander coughs to stifle a laugh. “I want to showcase Xander and me as a modern, young couple in love. I’m going to give interviews and even show people around Nottingham Cottage. I think the public will love it, don’t you?”
“You will do no such thing, do you understand?” she commands angrily. “You do not speak on behalf of this family.”
“Oh, I know, but I’m afraid I have to disagree with you,” I say, stoking her anger further. “I am speaking for myself. And I have big ideas for how Xander can be different. Luckily, he agrees with me. In fact, we were going to pop out to the shops this afternoon—some of the cheaper-priced clothing shops—and get clothes to wear for The London News shoot. We want to be completely and thoroughly accessible.”
“You,” Queen Antonia says, her voice seething with rage, “are making me very, very angry.”
“Oh, Your Majesty, the last thing I want to do is to make you angry,” I say, feigning innocence. “I simply want to have our side of the story accessible to the public. Especially in light of the more negative things, you know, that happened to slip out. But perhaps we should discuss this with some biscuits and tea. Maybe there is an alternative. I think I can rearrange our interview with the News until after Tuesday if you can come. But if you can’t, I’ll have to go ahead and do it. You understand, of course.”
“Oh, I understand perfectly well,” Queen Antonia says. “And if you think for one second I will allow a baker to come in and wreck my son, drag down the monarchy so we look like every commoner around the corner, and destroy everything I have ever done, you are a fool.”
“But a fool who will see you at four o’clock on Tuesday nonetheless,” I counter.
Xander’s eyes flash angrily. He makes a grab for the phone, but I shove his hand away.
“Now, my love is so eager to see us have this tea, he’s practically chomping at the bit to get his phone back so he can speak with you, but I am very much looking forward to meeting you, Your Majesty. Goodbye.”
Then I hand the phone to Xander.
“Wh—” Xander begins but is abruptly cut off by Queen Antonia. Good Lord, I can hear her shouting from where I’m sitting.
“No, you will listen to me,” Xander says, his voice deadly. “You, my dear mother, will come here for tea on Tuesday. Expect there to be consequences if you do not. And if there happens to be any more leaked articles like the one from yesterday, I will be ruthless. Do you hear me? I’m your son. I can play your game better than anyone, because I know you. And unless you want me to sit down for a tell-all interview on TV, you will remain silent. Because my reality is drastically different to yours, and the public would be rather intrigued to see such a shocking side to you.”
Then he hangs up and throws the phone aside.
My heart hurts as I study his profile. Nobody should have to think these things about a parent. I’m about to speak, but Xander beats me to it.
“What did she say to you?” he asks, his eyes searching mine. “Are you okay?”
I move closer to him, reaching for his hand and squeezing it multiple times. “It doesn’t matter what she said. I know it’s not true.”
“Are you sure you want to sign up for this?” he asks softly. “You might want to wait until after you have tea with her. Or dinner on Thursday, which is bound to be a shitshow.”
“I have to say, if I dared think that far ahead in the future, I always pictured my mother-in-law as someone I could be friends with. That we’d have lunch or tea and become close, like a second mum.”
Xander winces. I squeeze his hand again.
“But that was a dream,” I continue, “and the reality, as crazy as this still sounds to say, is I fell in love with a prince. And I