I still can’t say why I haven’t blocked Aidan. Like I’m a true glutton for punishment.
Something shifts in Martin’s expression. Maybe it’s wishful thinking where he sees me as more of a person rather than a public person.
“I can’t imagine it’s easy,” Martin says wryly, “being in the public eye so much.”
“No.” It comes out more heartfelt than intended. And I’d hate to come across as complaining and ungrateful, because I’ve had a great life with the encouragement of my parents to go live out of the spotlight for a few years. Then, with Papa’s death, the spotlight focused in on me and Freja. I suppose that was the real shift. Then Aidan’s doing. And then… Greece. Something heavy sits in my chest. “It’s not. But I have a lot of privileges too. It’s a trade-off.”
I press my lips in some semblance of a smile and put my fork down at last since no more food is going into my mouth. Martin looks at my half-eaten meal. He’s already finished his steak and a mountain of veg.
“If you want to finish it… it’s delicious. I just can’t right now,” I admit.
Martin takes the plate. “I’m supposed to be avoiding carbs right now. Except carbs taste so good, and I’m very happy to make an exception.” At my curious look, he explains. “It’s my training routine. What I eat is a big part of it.”
“What do you train for?”
“Rowing. Since uni. It’s my real passion. Getting out on the water early when the world is quiet. It’s great.” His eyes light up.
“Yeah, I can only imagine. Sounds perfect.” This only makes me think of the sea, which inevitably leads to thoughts of Stefanos yet again. I shake my head slightly to clear it. Thinking about Stefanos is not helping me in the least right now. Seriously, I’ve got a problem. I refocus on Martin.
“Do you like sailing?” Martin asks curiously.
It’s a reasonable question, which makes me want to dive under the table and hide. “I… don’t know too much about sailing.”
“Frankie told me you were in Greece recently. I couldn’t help but see the news story about the yacht…” Martin efficiently finishes my risotto. I can only imagine what he can do with a spreadsheet. “So I wondered.”
I suppress a groan. “It was only meant to be a few hours on the water, that’s it. It wasn’t an expedition or racing or anything like that.”
“You’re certainly not obligated to talk about it,” Martin assures me.
“I’m still… processing all of what happened.” It’s true enough. Then I don’t know what else to say, and I swallow hard. So much for being the charming prince tonight. I’m much more in toad territory, hopping from lily pad to lily pad. And I don’t know the man to trust him with a confessional in case it ends up in another Aidan sell-out situation. Though if he’s a friend of Frankie’s, that’s not likely. Yet I can’t take the chance. “It all happened very quickly.”
And I’m not entirely sure then if I’m talking about the sinking or how quickly Stefanos caught my attention, something my mind doesn’t want to let go of. Which is definitely not helping me be present right now. Or cheering me up either. My shoulders droop slightly.
“I can only imagine.” Martin shakes his head. “Such terrible luck. At least you’re safe.”
“Mm, yes. The rescue came in time, thankfully.”
Martin’s quiet for a long moment. My face warms under his steady attention. Obviously, he’s caught on that I’m distracted. Which is no kind of date material, fake or real.
“I’m so sorry, Martin. I’ve got to confess this has all caught up with me more than I expected.”
“It makes sense.” Martin leans back in his chair, setting his cloth napkin beside the empty plate. A moment later, a server comes to whisk it away. We look at each other. I shift in my chair and place my napkin down, too, with an air of finality. There’s a long, awkward pause.
“Do you want to get out of here? Or?” Martin asks at last.
I shake my head slowly, at a loss. Of all the things I feel like doing right now, despite Martin’s impeccable manners, fake dating isn’t among them. Not even in the top three. Which would be hiding, texting Stefanos, and reaming James out. “Yes?”
Martin smiles. He nods in a way as if he’s reading my mind. Or, more likely, my body language. I’m doing my best not to droop. All that royal training should be good for something, but he’s perceptive.
“I’m sorry. You seem great. Except… I’m kind of exhausted,” I blurt.
Shit. Nice going, Theo.
His smile broadens. “I gathered that much. You’re under no obligation to stay.”
“I… I’m so sorry. Please. Let me get the bill.”
“No need, I’ve taken care of it.”
