“Miles, come on. I would never. But leaving her in the lineup takes just a fraction of the pressure off my back.” I bank a shot off the side but miss the pocket by a hair. “Damn! We’ve got to do this more, I’m getting rusty.”
Miles laughs and claps me on the shoulder. “I’m not sure what standard you’re basing that on, but you’ve always been shit at pool. And you’re also the limiting factor on us getting out more often.” His fingers trail down to rest on my forearm for a moment. Our eyes lock for a short breath before he drops his hand and picks up his pint glass.
“And sadly, it’s only going to get worse, it seems.” Irun a hand down my face, scratching at my beard before taking a long, dousing drink of my beer. “As the Brits were so happy to remind me as often as fucking possible, the single jig is soon up for me.”
Miles nods as he pulls on his cigar. “I’m still amazed they hold to such an outdated treaty.”
I shrug. “It’s signed law. No one on our side has thought to fight it, and it benefits the British too well for them to give it up willingly.”
“Yeah, but the animosity they house for us is practically ancient history. What does it matter anymore if a more distant relation of yours were to ascend the throne?”
Another long drag on my cigar and subsequent release of breath has some of my worries floating away with the smoke. “Well, the first cousin who would be in line after Claus is a German, and you know how the Brits still harbor a bit of Teutophobia. But really, I think it’s less about succession and more about annexation of territory.”
My mother’s home country of Monaco has a similar thing going with their neighbors, the French, and succession is always a hot issue there as well. Perhaps that’s why Mother wasn’t satisfied with just the expected heir and spare routine; though, Emarvia still hasn’t moved into the new century when it comes to allowing women in the line of succession. I want to be disgusted as a feminist ally, but it’s allowed my sisters to grow up under significantly less pressure than Claus and Ihave faced.
Miles rolls his eyes, putting on a faux posh accent. “Redrawing borders is so nineteenth century, don’t you think?”
We laugh and toast to that, downing the rest of our beer and racking the balls for a rematch.
“And, uh, where does your Miss Sumner fit into this whole mess?” Miles asks after the break.
Christ, just hearing her name makes my heart pound in my chest. “We’re enjoying the time we have. We both knew what was coming when we started this.”
“Yes, but knowing that in your mind versus knowing that in your heart are two very different things.”
“What does that even mean?”
Miles watches me over the rim of his glass as he takes a long drink. “It means I’ve been watching you, Fritz. I see your face light up every time you get a text from her. I was there when you stood for her at the ball. And I could read the anger all over you when someone else danced with her.”
I take a long drag on my cigar, letting the smoke pour out with each syllable. “I was not angry.”I was in a full-on fucking rage.
“Need I remind you of the conversation we had when you first told me about this little not-sex sex plan of yours?”
I groan. “No, Miles. I remember it well. And it’s fucking fine. I swear.”
