The atmosphere in the park shifts; a hush falls over the crowd, followed by a buzz that travels like a flame on gasoline. Our gazes fly to the far entrance of the garden. A group of men in black suits is ushering spectators to either side of the walkway.
“Is that…” Naomi trails off as she grabs my forearm and squeezes, her nails biting my skin. She doesn’t need to finish the sentence. Everyone in the vicinity knows what’s happening.
The royal family is approaching.
CHAPTER4
DAYS SINCE I’VE SEEN THEO:NINETY-ONE
The first time I met Theo, I had no idea who he was. Once I figured it out, I didn’t particularly care. Three months that feel like a lifetime later, I’m just another one of his intense royal-watcher fanatics.
I stop breathing.
“I can’t see anything,” I say as more and more people flow into the garden. Naomi and I stand on our bench to get a better look as my stomach tightens with familiar anticipation. I tell myself it doesn’t mean anything that my blood hums at the thought of him.
“Those are the royal protection officers,” Naomi explains, although for once, she doesn’t need to. I summoned men just like them to Santorini to handcuff Theo and drag him away. “I wonder if Major Winston is here,” she says. She sees my bewildered look and explains, “He was one of the Queen’s bodyguards before her death.”
“How do you know that?”
“He’s kind of famous. You really don’t know who he is? He’syounger than the rest of them. Twenty-fiveish, I think? Hot. Biceps for days?”
“Not ringing any bells.” The garden continues to fill as film crews, photographers, and a mob of overly excited weirdos anticipate the arrival of the royal family. “Who are all these people?” I demand. Flickers of contempt burn in my chest as I clock the tremor of excitement swirling around us. “The royals are justpeople,not zoo animals.”
“Pot, meet kettle.” Naomi motions from us to the crowd.
“We’re not gawking; we’re here for a dog heist,” I remind Naomi as a cheer erupts from the crowd. I catch a glimpse of dark blond hair. The princess has arrived.
“This is their first royal walkabout since the Queen died,” Naomi whispers.
“Their firstwhat?”
“Walkabout. It’s when members of the royal family go outside to greet and shake hands with the public—theywalk about.”
“Does the King do walkabouts?” I ask, and I cannot believe the words that just came out of my mouth. It’s such a silly sentence, made even sillier because the answer has the power to annihilate me.
“The Queen did,” Naomi says. “But it’s also possible that he has something else on his schedule and sent his sister out to connect with the public.”
“Theo hates this kind of thing,” I say, but I realize immediately how ridiculous I sound. Like I know anything about the person he is after losing a parent and ascending the throne.
I bite my lip to distract myself from the painful riot happening in my stomach. The sound of my own blood rushing in my ears is deafening, the thud of my own heart bruising.So this is how I die. Not from a world-ending comet, but from the excruciating anticipation of waiting to see a boy.When did I become so pathetic?I hope whoever writes my obituary takes it easy on me.
I’ve only had a moment to prepare for my imminent demise when I see him: the yellow Labrador of my heart, the dog who never left my side until I put him on Theo’s plane, the reason I drove eight hours through the night.
Comet darts around a guard as he sprints to catch a tennis ball thrown by Princess Victoria. He returns the ball to her side, his heavy tail thumping happily against her thighs, his big tongue lolling to the side of his mouth. She crouches to give him a scratch behind his ears before handing the ball to a young boy in the crowd. When he tosses the ball, Comet leaps to catch it.
“I hate to say it, but he looks happy,” Naomi says.
“I know.” It’s a double-edged sword, because I want my dog to be happy (I’m not a monster), but I want him to behappierwith me. (I’m not a saint, either.)
She leans her head on my shoulder. “Ireallyhate to say this, but I don’t think Theo’s here.”
I know that too; the ranks have closed around the garden entrances, and Theo’s nowhere to be found. (He’s probably doing something more important, like shining his crown or bedazzling his scepter.) My stomach bottoms out from a painful mixture of relief and regret. Seeing him again would have been fraught, but now I’m doomed to spend the rest of my life under a cloud ofwhat if.
Naomi’s expression is crestfallen. “I’m sorry.”
I shrug as the knot in my throat expands, making it hard to say anything.
“Do you want to try to get closer to Comet?” she asks. WhenI nod, she surveys the guards blocking all four garden exits. “I don’t know how we’re going to be able to sneak him out of here.”
