Royal Package - Lili Valente Page 0,38

my breath, I turn and walk away.

Well, that was a nightmare. I try to convince myself it will all work out for the best, but after my shower, I lie in bed for hours staring at the ceiling, wondering why this allegedly logical, necessary thing I’m doing is making me feel like such absolute shit.

I tell myself the world will look brighter in the morning.

But in the morning, Lizzy seems thrilled to be dragged out of bed at six a.m. for a five-mile run before breakfast and endures another meal with Prince Charmless, the Oatmeal Bomber, with the patience of a saint.

Afterward, I drag her on a whirlwind tour of every hospital and care home in the capital in hopes that having to engage with hundreds of sickly strangers will erode her goodwill, but she is gracious and lovely to every patient we meet.

She’s quiet—she compensates for the stutter by being a woman of few words—but always kind, and in the car on the way home from our final stop, she has energy leftover to debate the merits of moving the veteran’s home to a suburb outside the capital.

“But most of the residents have lived in the city their entire lives.” She shifts in her seat, facing me as she crosses one long, toned leg over the other, making my fingers itch to curl around her thigh. The urge to touch her has been constant and unrelenting, so intense that not even spending the day with the ill and infirm could mute my awareness of how beautiful she looks in her simple navy sundress.

In fact, the suffering we witnessed only made my condition worse, reminding me that life is short and pain inevitable, and that we had all best make hay and love while the sun still shines.

But I can’t make love to Lizzy. I can’t lay a finger on her. It’s the only way to make sure I don’t end up kissing her again.

“Exactly,” I say, forcing my hands to stay fisted in my lap. “The head of the project thinks they’ll enjoy the fresh air and views. And we can build a much larger facility with bigger rooms and more recreational space if we relocate to a place with cheaper land on offer.”

Lizzy shakes her head. “But the city is what they know, Andrew. Most of them have probably never driven a car. Or even if they did, they don’t feel safe driving anymore. They depend on public transportation and walking to get around. In the city, there are buses to take you everywhere and loads of shops within walking distance. Out in the country, they’ll be trapped at the home.”

I frown. “We’d have buses to take them shopping once or twice a week and to their doctor’s appointments. We do that already. We have a driver on staff who takes them on errands and to the theater now and then.”

“But that’s on your terms,” she says, adding with a nod of her head, “I mean, the facility’s terms. But they have other options here, ways to get around without being on someone else’s schedule. They won’t have that in the suburbs. And I’m sure a lot of them have friends and routines here, too, that they’d miss.” She lifts a hand, palm facing the limo’s roof. “I mean, you should obviously do a survey and see what the residents would prefer, but my intuition says it’s kinder to leave the facility where it is and renovate the existing rooms and rec space.”

“Even if the rooms are small and the toilets beastly?”

She smiles. “Better cozy and familiar than roomy and strange. And I’m sure you can make the toilets less beastly. I have faith in you.”

“Do you?” I muse, leaning closer.

She tips her head, biting her lip as her gaze glides from my eyes to my lips. “Yes, I do. Shouldn’t I?”

No, you shouldn’t. I’m a lying, scheming rat who’s doing his best to make you miserable.

Aloud I say, “I hope so.”

All I’m really hoping, however, is that tomorrow’s day of courtly formality and meeting my obnoxious extended family will succeed where today’s plan has failed. But come noon on Tuesday, Elizabeth is in a floor-length gown standing beside me at the head of the throne room, gamely shaking hands with approximately two thousand people and their spoiled, poorly behaved children.

By the end of the day, she’s clearly worn down but still smiling and up for a pre-dinner run.

As we jog out onto the path, the suspicious voice

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