then throwing the paper back at his head.
“Sorry. Good morning,” he said guiltily.
“Too late. I’m mad,” I said, dropping my towel and giving my wet hair a vicious rub. “You spend all that time lecturing me and Lacey, but now it’s okay for you to feed the beast?”
“If we’re going to fight about this, would you mind putting on some clothes?” Nick said. “You’re very distracting right now, and I want to be at my best.”
“Stop trying to flirt your way out of this,” I said, stiffly tugging on my bathrobe.
His face fell. “I didn’t actually mean it.”
“Which part?”
“Any of it,” he insisted.
“If I had done anything like that, Barnes would deep-fry my head for lunch,” I said.
“How do you know he didn’t deep-fry mine?”
“Because I’m sure he’s extremely relieved to have it confirmed that I’m just keeping your bed warm,” I said, choking up. Nick looked as surprised as if I’d just handed him my acceptance letter to Hogwarts. “Did you even think about how this would make me look? Like some tragic American girl you’re just toying with, until someone better comes along.”
Or in case no one better does, I didn’t say.
“I promise, that bloody photographer just caught me off guard,” he said. “This marriage nonsense and their obsession with our relationship drives me up a tree, and it slipped out. I should have ignored him. I don’t know why I didn’t. I suppose I’m not immune, either.”
“You snapped,” I said meaningfully.
“I’m so, so sorry, Bex,” he said. “Hurting you was the last thing I wanted to do. If we were two normal people…”
“But we’re not,” I said. “We’re one normal person, and then you.”
Nick attempted a wan smile. “How many times do I have to tell you, Bex? You’ve never been normal.”
This reference to Windsor made something inside me unfold. I crossed the room and kissed him.
“You know I don’t care about getting married, but I do think I care about the hiding,” I said, sitting next to him. “It’s been almost four years. Four, Nick. I don’t know how much longer it’s fair for us to live in a cave.”
“Well, this cave has satellite TV and a very enticing bed,” he said, nudging me.
“Be serious.” I smacked his leg.
“Sorry. The bathrobe is too flimsy to keep me focused,” he said, picking up the satiny tie and rubbing it between his fingers. He sighed. “It’s not like I’ve ever done this before. Not really. And it’s not like I can ask my parents for advice. They were miserable even when Mum was well.”
“So neither of us knows what we’re doing,” I said.
Nick looked at me and although his lips smiled, his eyes didn’t. “Haven’t a clue,” he said.
I took his hand, almost as if to bridge the silence that fell between us. My eyes landed on my flag pin, our private little talisman, sitting on the dresser staring back at me, daring me to put it on and feel the same as I ever had.
“Maybe you’re right,” Nick said suddenly. “Maybe that’s the answer. Maybe we just stop running.”
“You mean, go public?” I asked, my jaw swinging open wider than was strictly ladylike. “Are you ready for that?”
“I guess this is as ready as I’ll ever be,” was his reply.
Not the answer I’d hoped for, but it was all he said.
Chapter Six
Very few people in this world look, in person, exactly as you imagine them. I, for example, am told I look taller and not nearly as American, whatever that means. David Beckham, conversely, is more compact than expected, but also sexier, which evens it out. The first time I stood in a room with Queen Eleanor, I expected a similar revelation—albeit not about her level of sex appeal—but the surprise was that there was no surprise. She is one of the rare public figures who looks the same in the papers, on TV, and in your mind, as she does in the flesh: supreme, authoritative, every inch the icon that she is on the postage and the pound.
Then again, maybe it’s unsurprising that I reacted that way, given that my first encounter with Eleanor was on her turf—Buckingham Palace being the ultimate home-field advantage. Before Nick’s party I hadn’t done anything more than whiz past Buck House in a cab, because I felt weird taking the pricey tour when I was suspected of dating someone whose birth had been announced on a placard in the courtyard. Suspected, but still not confirmed: Word from The Firm