“Did you get me the kung pao chicken with the sauce on the side?” Tessa asks as she unpacks our dinner.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Nikki says, bowing at the waist.
I gasp, then realize Nikki’s trying to wind us up by calling Tessa by a title reserved solely for the ruling monarch.
“Oh, good. You remembered the steamed rice.” Tessa has been trying to lose the last twenty pounds of baby weight for over two years without much success. Poor thing can never quite be as glam as Impossibly Perfect Kate (as we call her), which really bothers her. Tessa’s only got one manny (who works days) and twins, neither of whom are what you’d call ‘good sleepers,’ meaning she’s up with one or the other every night only to wake early to a full itinerary. As she’s explained to me several times, this causes her to have uncontrollable sugar cravings due to reduced serotonin. She also has a serious addiction to crisps and freshly baked scones (which are basically unavoidable when you live in a palace), but we don’t talk about that.
The three of us start lifting lids off the containers and plating the food, Tessa careful to only take the steamed vegetables and the plain chicken and broccoli with a tiny dollop of sauce on the side. When we’re done, Nikki shakes her head at Tessa’s plate. “What a sad little dinner.”
“Agreed,” Tessa says, staring longingly at Nikki’s heap of saucy colourful goodness. “But it’s T-minus one-month until we go to England where I’ll be forced into another official couples photo with Princess Perfect and two sexy crown princes.”
I’m about to pour her a margarita, but she covers the glass with her hand. “None for me, thanks. This is a DEFCON 1 situation here. Xavier’s got me down to 1200 calories a day, and I already went over at lunch when Flora didn’t finish her alphabet pasta. Did you know there are over a hundred calories in only three tablespoons of that stuff?”
“I can’t say I did.” I walk over to the liquor cart and lift a bottle of Skinny Bitch Vodka, holding it up to Tessa. “Sixty calories okay?”
“Dear God, yes, but promise to stop me at one,” Tessa says. Scraping two spoonfuls of steamed rice back into the container, she says, “Maybe two.”
She means four.
When I return to the table, I set her drink down in front of her and take a seat. I’m about to take a bite when Nikki says, “So, tell us everything. How was sailing around the South Pacific with Will Banks, the hottie hot hot adventure man? How’s the sex? Fantastic, right? I bet he’s amazing, what with all those climbing and agility skills he’s got going on.”
I grin, my cheeks heating up as I nod. “It was wonderful. The water was just soblueand warm. I’ve never been as relaxed in my entire life.”
Nikki and Tessa both give me the ‘quit holding out on us’ look.
“And he’s incredible in bed.”
“I knew it,” Nikki says, rolling her eyes. “He’s probably quite acrobatic, like those Ukrainian dancer men.”
“Oooh, yes!” Tessa says. “I’d never have thought of that, but with all that crouching and kicking, I imagine that does translate quite well in the bedroom.”
I grin at them. “Based on my…ahem… research, I can safely say physical prowess is rather helpful when it comes to more… intimate pursuits.”
“Lucky bitch,” Nikki says, shaking her head. “Both of you, really. It’s a wonder I love you bitches as much as I do.”
“It’s because we’re rather loveable,” I say with a wry grin.
“True,” Tessa adds, nodding at me. “We’re absolutely delightful.”
“That’s because you royals have all the fun,” Nikki says, wiping bright-red sauce off her bottom lip. “You two seriously need to find me my own prince already. I’ve had it up to here with being a commoner.”
“God no. No princes,” I say, ripping off a small bite of onion cake and popping it in my mouth. “The last thing you want is to end up with some dreadfully dull royal.”
Tessa holds up her glass. “Arthur isanythingbut boring, thank you very much.” Looking over at Nikki, she says, “I promise I’ll continue the hunt for the perfect man for you.”
“Thanks, sweetie. Honestly, he doesn’t even have to be royal. I’ll take super hot and crazy rich, even if he’s new money.”
“Obviously,” Tessa answers. Turning to me, she says, “Now, back to you and your man. Have you two discussed how you’ll handle the fallout from the show?”
I shrug. “Won’t be a problem. We know how the whole reality telly thing works—they’ll take everything we said and did out of context to try to create a scandal. It may result in a few unflattering headlines and some nasty Reddit threads for a couple weeks, but things’ll die down, and we’ll go back to normal by November.”
Tessa sits back in her chair and tilts her head. “Hmmm… I don’t know. I’m worried you may be underestimating Dylan’s ability to be evil.”
Stopping myself just short of rolling my eyes, I say, “And if you’ll remember, Idoknow how to handle her.” I suck back as much of my margarita as I can without risking brain freeze, then set the glass down. “Besides, Will and I know whatreallywent on out there. No amount of editing can change reality—or our feelings for each other.”
“Are you sure?” Tessa asks. “Arthur and I went through hell with the whole ‘Brooke is better’ thing. It really got in my head and it almost ended us.”
Tessa comes from a ‘normal family,’ so there were some people in our upper crust crowd who weren’t exactly thrilled when Arthur announced their engagement. They started a whole campaign to have him dump her and marry Lady Brooke Beddingfield, an awful snatch who had the ‘right’ upbringing. Thank God it didn’t work because there is no way in hell Brooke and I would be sitting around in our jammies getting tipsy together.
