I shook my head. “No. I have a working relationship with the people at Honey Bee, but I can’t socialize with them really—not in any genuine way, because I’m constantly worried that one of them might go to the press and share something. I can’t just go to a pub and make friends, either. If I’m not here at the cottage, I’m at the Honey Bee offices. That’s my life.” To my horror, a sob caught in my throat. I backed away a little, hoping Shelby hadn’t heard it.
But no such luck. “Kyra, that’s no way to live. You sound miserable.” Her forehead drew together. “Isn’t there anything you can do to make things better? I mean, the Royal Family can’t make you stay home alone, right? If you’re not official enough to go to public events with Nicky, then they shouldn’t have the power to force you into anything.”
“Nobodyisforcing me to do anything.” I pressed my fingers to my temples, where suddenly a headache pounded. “But would you want to go sightseeing if a throng of reporters were following you everywhere? Or if you couldn’t even run to the corner shop without being recognized and having people stare and point?” I shuddered. “Trust me. Staying here is far preferable to that.”
“Oh, Ky.” Shelby bit her lip, her eyes worried. “This isn’t good.” She studied me through the camera. “When’s the next time you’re coming home for a visit?”
“Two weeks.” I was so looking forward to the trip—and dreading it at the same time. “I’m spending Thanksgiving in Florida with the entire family.”
“Florida? Don’t the Duncans usually do Thanksgiving in Maine?” Shelby had been my best friend long enough to know our traditions. “And is Nicky coming with you?
I shook my head. “No. It’s not a holiday for him, you know, and he already had engagements for that week, so it’s just going to be me.” I swallowed over the lump of worry that had risen in my throat at the thought of leaving him behind. It was far too reminiscent of what had happened between us last year, when we’d broken up for six months. Giving myself a little shake, I went on.
“And you’re right about Maine. Usually we do celebrate there, but this year, Honey’s been sick. She was in the hospital with pneumonia for a week in October, and the doctor advised against her traveling this winter.”
“Wait a minute—Honey was sick—in the hospital—and you didn’t tell me?” Shelby scowled at me through the camera. “Is she okay?” Shelby adored my grandparents, who were known as Handsome and Honey by both family and friends. I’d given them those names when I was a toddler, and to their delight, the nicknames had stuck.
“From what I hear, yes, she’s going to be fine.” I crossed my legs and shifted on the cushion of the sofa. “Believe me, I wasn’t any too happy about being all the way over here when she was sick. But my dad promised he’d keep me informed. He was concerned that if I flew to Florida, the press circus might be too disrupting for the family while they were trying to take care of her.”
“I understand.” Shelby tilted her head, sympathy in her eyes. “Not being there must’ve been killing you. But here’s some good news—if you’re going to be in Florida for Thanksgiving, I can come see you. I’m flying home for that week, too.”
I sat up straighter, giving a little squeal of delight. “Oh, my God! That’s awesome. If you can come over to the beach, we can have a girls’ night. Movies and wine and ice cream.” I paused. “Maybe not in that order.”
Shelby laughed. “I’m in. I’m spending the first three days with Vivian and Charlie and the baby, and then I need to fit in a visit with the parentals and Aunt Gail. But by the weekend, I’m sure I’m going to be more than ready for some best friend time.”
“Okay. It’s a date.” I’d been looking forward to going home for the holiday anyway, but now I was even more excited.
“It definitely is.” She glanced at something off-camera and wrinkled her nose. “But right now, I need to get my ass in gear. I want to grab some breakfast before I go to work. So ... we’ll text about the details, but otherwise, I’ll see you in two weeks.”
“I can’t wait.” I frowned a little. “But Shel, is everything all right there? I feel like we talked about all my problems and you didn’t tell me how things are in New Mexico.”
That same shadow passed over her eyes again. “It’s all good, Ky. Maybe slightly complicated, but—well, I love the work, and the people are mostly nice. I’m learning so much. I just wish ...” Her voice trailed off. “We’ll talk at Thanksgiving, babe, and I promise, I’ll spill my guts then. You can give me wise counsel over wine.”
“Okay. You know I’m here for you no matter what, right, Shelby?” I had a feeling that she was evading my questions. “Best friends trump everything, even Royal Family orders. That’s not going to change.”
“Of course, it isn’t,” she returned. “I know that. Ciao for now, sweetie. And hang in there. Everything is going to work out for you and Nicky. I just know it.”
I ended the call with a smile, but once I’d shut the computer, the silence of the cottage weighed on me even heavier, and the empty hours of the weekend stretched out before me.
“Well, I guess it’s just me and Netflix once again,” I sighed, reaching for the television remote. “Another glamorous weekend in the life of Prince Nicky’s girlfriend.”
ONE OF THE BENEFITS OFliving at Kensington Palace was the accessibility to beautiful gardens, offering all of the residents plenty of places to stroll when the weather was decent. Of course, in London, the lack of decent weather was the issue more often than not.
Happily for me, during the weekend that Nicky was in Africa and I was alone, London experienced a rare bout of sunshine and slightly warmer than normal temperatures. I took advantage of the sunny daylight hours and sat outside on a bench with a book both Saturday and Sunday afternoons. It was quiet and peaceful ... and after all of the angst I’d expressed to Shelby on Friday, I found a little bit of comfort in my solitude. Of course, I’d rather have Nicky at home with me, but over those days, I remembered that I was all right by myself now and then.
Late on Sunday afternoon, I set up my laptop on the counter in the small kitchen and tuned in to American football. This was just one of the things I missed from my homeland: lazy Sundays when I’d hung around with friends and family, eating junk food, drinking beer and cheering on our favorite teams. Having to bring up the game on my computer and watch it that way just didn’t feel the same.
Still, I told myself that this was a very small sacrifice to make for the far more important benefit of living with the man I loved. Now that I’d been here in London for five months, it was all too easy to forget how miserable I’d been without him during the time when we’d been broken up—and how hard it had been to live with an ocean between us even when we were in a relationship. Football or not, lonely times or not—this was the better way. I didn’t have even one doubt.
I finished assembling my potato skins, wings and beer, carried the tray into the sitting room, and then moved the laptop onto the coffee table so I could see the game. The big screen TV on the wall stared at me blankly, and I wondered if there was some way for me to hook up the computer to that screen, so that my players weren’t tiny ant-sized men running around on a field of green. I made a mental note to ask Alex’s husband Jake about that possibility. He seemed to know his way around technology, certainly better than either Nicky or I did.
The game on tonight was Philadelphia hosting Richmond, two teams I followed pretty closely. It was a welcome change to have something to occupy my mind. The announcers were enthusiastic about some of the young players, particularly Philadelphia’s Tate Durham. Even as firmly committed to Nicky as I was, I had to admit that Durham was a hottie—and he was damn good player, too.
After a couple of beers and too many potato skins and wings to count, I was pleasantly drowsy and full. Snuggling down into the corner of the sofa, I wrapped myself in the soft knitted blanket Nicky kept draped over the back of the couch. This cottage was drafty more often than not, and it seemed I was always shivering, trying to keep warm.
My eyes had just begun to droop, the droning voices of the announcers providing background noise, when I heard the rumble of a car engine in front of the house. Frowning, I wondered who might be slowing down or even stopping here. I certainly wasn’t expecting company, unless Nicky’s younger sister Daisy had decided to pop by.
Before I could start to worry too much, the front door opened, and Nicky was there, one large bag hooked over his shoulder, a day’s worth of sexy scruff on his jaw and his eyes alight at seeing me. I tried to jump to my feet, but I was so wrapped in the blanket that I couldn’t move.
