with that in mind.”
I take a breath to steady myself. This is surreal. All of this. Even me having dinner with a man, let alone that man being the Prince of Wales. My head knows he’s right. I should chalk this up to a magical evening and let it go. What are the odds of this going anywhere? I’m not the type of woman that would marry into the royal family.
But despite that being the overwhelming odds on the outcome, I go further. If I did get serious with him, and gah, am I really even thinking this? But if I did marry him, what would I do? It’s not like I could go bake biscuits in the Buckingham Palace kitchen as a duchess.
I would have to give up my life to be with Xander.
I go cold at the thought of being like Queen Antonia and dressing like that and having to be so polished and perfect and making speeches and, oh my God, giving up all of my independence?
Then, as if I’m driving a car that has suddenly seen a deer darting across the road, I slam the breaks on my thoughts, and I skid out into a spinning stop.
How can I be having these thoughts after sharing one flipping dinner with the man?
“Poppy,” Xander says softly. “Talk to me. Please tell me what you are thinking.”
Oh God, if he knew I had just pictured myself in a sheath dress holding a bouquet and greeting the public?
He would be shoving me out the door, full stop, that’s what.
I lift my gaze to meet his. And my breath is stolen by the genuine concern he has for me. After one meal, after one day of craziness, Xander has some kind of feelings for me.
As I stare back at him, I realise I’m starting to have some kind of feelings for him, too.
Stop this now, my head warns me. This won’t end well, with a fairy tale like Christian and Clementine. You’ll get involved and possibly lose your heart, and then it will be broken.
But I don’t want to walk away.
I’ve never had any kind of romantic feelings for any man, and Xander is bringing something to life in me that I want to experience. Do I have to worry about my entire future after one meal?
My throat turns parched. I take a big drink of wine from my glass, as Xander desperately waits for me to say something, anything, to let him know what I want to do.
I put the glass down and draw a breath of air.
I have two options.
Two incredibly different paths to choose from.
Both are equally terrifying.
Yet I know what I want to do.
“I have had a wonderful evening with you,” I say softly, my heart hammering loud inside my chest. “But Xander, we’re very different people.”
Xander doesn’t say anything. His eyes remain locked on mine.
“I know what the future would be if we start hanging out together,” I say softly. “It could be difficult. Harsh. Messy.”
Xander remains stoic. Damn, the boy really does have a poker face when he wants one.
“You’re not wrong about that,” he says, his voice neutral.
“I’ve seen what has happened to Clementine,” I say.
Xander winces. The poker face has fallen at the mention of Clementine’s name.
“And I don’t feel I can go down this path,” I continue slowly, “after only one takeaway dinner.”
“What?” he asks, a crease forming at the bridge of his nose. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying it’s going to take more than one takeaway dinner for me to decide what the future will hold,” I explain. Then I flash him a smile, my heart throwing my head’s thoughts right out into the street, and continue. “I think we need to see each other more than once to sort that out, don’t you?”
Xander barely moves as he takes in my words. “You want to see me?”
“I do. And apparently, I do have a poker face, because you appeared quite worried I was going to say no.”
A huge smile lights up his face. He laughs, and oh, that sound! How can the sound of his laugh already make me feel so happy?
“I was,” Xander confesses. “And nicely played.”
“Thank you,” I say, taking another sip of wine.
“Poppy?”
I look at him.
“Thank you for saying yes,” he tells me softly.
I don’t think my heart knows how to be still anymore. It’s so full of excitement and happiness that it’s bouncing all over the place.
“Because I’m saying yes, I believe we can agree I should