these things about my brother’s ex-girlfriend. We’re just friends.
Right?
Cara’s lips stretch into a smile. We stand up. The boat rocks gently, throwing her toward me. Cara giggles, catching herself against my chest.
I look down into her eyes, feeling that same stirring of my heart once again.
Clearing my throat, I pull away and nod toward the main cabin. The chef has cleared the table, so it’s free for us to play cards.
It’s part of our tradition. We don’t actually play cards. We build card castles.
Simple, really. The more the boat rocks, the more the cards fall. The more the cards fall, the more you drink. The more you drink, the harder it is to build card castles. And on, and on, and on.
Tradition.
Cara slips into the booth seat at the table and pulls out a deck of cards from her bag. They’re the same worn cards that we’ve used for the past ten years. All three of my brothers, Cara, and I would play card castle games for hours when we were younger. She always had the same deck, ready to pull out of her bag whenever it was needed.
That’s one thing I like about Cara. She collects things that mean something to her. They’re never expensive things, even though her family is wealthy. The things she collects are usually small, like a worn pack of cards or a couple of nice shells that she finds on the beach. She doesn’t value the things that most people in my life hold dear—expensive cars and clothes, jewelry, and money. She values things that have meaning.
Real meaning—like a pack of worn playing cards, frayed edges and all.
Maybe that’s why she needs to leave. The things that hold her in Argyle—stability, safety, a big house that her parents built—don’t mean anything to her. She wants to find her own treasures along the way.
I head for the bar and pull out a bottle of whiskey, flashing a grin at her.
“You ready?”
“Ready to win.”
The rules are simple. The person that builds the tallest card castle in an allotted amount of time wins. The other person drinks.
We start the first round, and my card castle crumbles as soon as the boat rocks. Cara laughs, nodding to the bottle of alcohol.
“Drink.” Her eyes flash.
The alcohol burns on the way down. Cara giggles, and sets the timer on her phone again.
It’s a silly game, but we’ve been playing it for years. Cara’s tongue pokes out of her mouth as she tries to steady her hands, starting on the second level of her card castle.
My cards are slipping already. I haven’t even been able to get the first two to stand up against each other.
My pathetic structure collapses. “I think you rigged these cards.”
“I think you’ve sucked at this game for years.” Cara quips. The buzzer sounds, and her smile widens. “Drink.”
I take a swig of whiskey, shaking my head as I wipe my lips on the back of my hand. “You’ve definitely rigged this.”
“In all the years we’ve been doing this, how many times have you won?” She arches an eyebrow.
We both know the answer to that question: zero. My hands aren’t steady, and I just can’t get the cards to stack up. Add the rocking of the boat and a few drinks, and I’m completely hopeless.
At least I enjoy whiskey.
I just shake my head and pour some alcohol into her glass. “You should drink for speaking to your Crown Prince in that tone.”
“Oh, pulling out the royal card again. I see how it is. You’ve changed, Theo.”
“I’m not above using my title to get what I want.”
“And what do you want?” Her eyes darken, and heat flames in my gut.
Instead of answering, I just drink.
Cara laughs, and I realize just how much I’ve missed that sound. She used to be a fixture at the palace. We grew up together, and I called her one of my closest childhood friends. Things changed when she was promised to Luca, obviously, but we’ve always been close.
The past three years I’ve seen less of her than ever before, and I’ve missed her more than I realized.
She shows me her phone screen, her finger hovering over the timer button. “Are you giving up, or should we go another round?”
“I never give up.”
Cara grins. My heart feels easy. I watch her stack her cards higher and higher, and I resign myself to getting very, very drunk with one of my closest friends.
How could I not? It’s tradition.
4
Cara
I wake up with a pounding headache. Even