I blink. That makes me feel even worse, on top of being terrible company. I should have told James it was too soon to try out his fake-dating scheme after getting back from Greece. “Please…”
Martin shakes his head with a certain finality. “I also ate your meal in addition to my own,” he points out. “It’s only fair.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Well. Thank you, then.”
When we’re outside the restaurant on the pavement, we exchange hugs and air-kisses, which are caught by the lurking paparazzi. The flash from cameras dazzles my eyes for a moment.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur.
“Please. Don’t worry about it. I had a good time.” Martin smiles and brushes his mouth by my ear as he speaks in a whisper. “Here’re the photos you need.”
I give him a wry look, then smile too. So maybe he does know this wasn’t a real date after all, but it doesn’t make me feel better about the night’s charade. Or anything else, for that matter. “Thanks.”
A moment later, I’m in the taxi for home, feeling like I’ve failed fake dating too, right alongside regular dating. My finger hovers over Stefanos’ contact details. I stare at his number for a long time as the taxi weaves through London’s evening traffic, a sea of red taillights ahead of us in the rain.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“How on earth are you going to find a husband if you don’t put in a solid effort, Theo?” James chides me over a video call the next day. I stand in my workout clothes in my kitchen as I guzzle down water after running as hard as I could on the treadmill, like that would restore some order in my world. Cardio for the cure. Yet I couldn’t outrun my brain despite my best effort.
“Husband?” I sputter. “Who said anything about finding a husband?” I frown at James and hop up to sit on the counter. “This was about PR spin to reform my reputation.”
“Semantics.” James rolls his eyes and peers at me intently as if he’s manifesting a bigger, more ridiculous scheme. “Also, you need a husband. Like a referee.”
“James, honestly. I don’t need a husband. That won’t help.”
“You absolutely do.” James looks thoughtfully at me and rubs his jaw. “So maybe you didn’t click with Martin. How about Douglas, then? Maybe having more in common?—”
“For the record, I don’t know or love these strangers.”
“That’s the brilliant part. You don’t need to.”
My frown deepens. “If I ever got married, it would absolutely be for love.”
“Royals have married for allegiances—and only allegiances—for centuries. Why, it’s a time-honored tradition. You’d be honoring your ancestors.” James looks entirely aghast. He’s pacing some royal room in his royal residence, resplendent with lush fabrics and lavish wallpaper behind him. “Surely they must mean something to you.”
“A tradition I don’t care to repeat.”
“Theo, Theo. You simply must get into the spirit of this. The Danes are counting on you. And your future kingdom.”
I give him an ominous look. “I’m doomed. No fake date—or fake husband—can cure this situation, believe me.”
James shakes his head. The corners of his mouth turn down. “You haven’t even tried, darling. How is it going to work unless you go all in on the plan? Who doesn’t love a marriage of convenience? Maybe I read things wrong. Maybe you want a fake wife instead?”
“I did try! Didn’t you catch the coverage from last night? And—I’m into men.”
“I know. And I saw what I saw,” James acknowledges before his expression shifts from disappointment to troubled. “A fine start. However, I also heard the debrief about your dinner date from Martin via Frankie. I can’t believe you went home early after dinner. Now, that sort of thing will very much tarnish your reputation.”
“Does Martin think I’m some kind of loser? I can’t blame him if he does.”
He tsks. “No, he doesn’t. Although Martin apparently said you seemed out of sorts. Preoccupied.”
“Well, it’s reasonable to be preoccupied, given recent circumstances,” I protest, my face warming. “Wouldn’t you be in my situation? There’s a lot going on, in my defense.”
James smiles broadly, waving a hand. “For starters, I would never be in your situation. Explain this all to me again so I understand. Which, by the way, I’m frankly appalled you didn’t tell me you were going to Greece to see him. I’ve been waiting very patiently for you to fill me in on the lead to Greece, but I think you have no intention of doing so.” He looks incredibly disappointed in me again.
I wave him off. “I went for work. Nothing happened with Stefanos. Or the yacht. I mean, yes, a yacht was sunk. His yacht. Could have happened to anyone. It was an accident.”
James muses, “I know you, Theo. Yachts don’t sink themselves. And you’re a chaos demon.”
