Royalty Check

9 | ON THE FIFTEENTH OF MAY

"𝓓id someone remember to pick up the cake?"

The town car winds down a green country road. Fidgeting next to me, George pores over the program for the committee's second official event.

"It's being delivered to the cafe," Olivia says. "Did you get the introduction, Hannah?"

"The one George sent? Yes."

At her insistence, Olivia will lead today's presentation, a conversation with local author Bridget Key about her debut mystery, Mountside Murders. Olivia is, however, graciously allowing me to introduce them before I head to the back to sell books and get email newsletter signups.

That sounds great to me. While they discuss cunning suspects and exciting twists, I can be in the dark, hoping people — one person in particular — forget I'm there.

The last few days have been torture. Avoiding James in the hallways and dining rooms used to be easy, but all of a sudden he's appearing everywhere. Stalling after dinners, lingering after meetings. I even took dinner in my room last night.

I can't handle more one-on-one time right now. Not after our ... moment at the ball. It's just better if our relationship stays professional. For him, for me, and for Phillip. You know, Hannah, your boyfriend?

All I have to do is keep avoiding the prince completely in his own home. Easy.

"And did you bring the programs?" George says.

I hold up the box on my lap.

"Excellent," George says. "I haven't heard from Prince James yet."

Olivia looks at her phone and sighs. "Did he text you?"

"No," I say.

"You've been awfully quiet," she says. "Are you upset you aren't on stage today?"

I chuckle.

"Because surely you'd agree that the chemistry between James and me makes for a more entertaining back and forth."

"Mhm," I say, staring out of the window.

"And Bridget asked for me personally."

"After you sent a package of Nina's croissants."

Ignoring my comment, she goes on about how she and the prince are sure to dazzle, the reviews will be much more favorable than the last time, James won't want to do another one without her, and on until we slow down on the quaint main street of Vinton.

Brown stone buildings line the hilly street. With tall pitched roofs and colorful shutters, this looks like a postcard you'd pick up at a medieval European museum.

I try to get a peek of The Notes Cafe and wonder if I can sneak in without anyone noticing. The vine-covered building looks quiet, but a motorcycle is parked out front. Unbelievable. The man has gone from being chronically late to annoyingly on time all. the. time.

Giddy, Olivia struts into the cafe, leaving George and me to handle the programs, signs, books, and other bags and boxes.

I pop the trunk open. "I wish she'd be more helpful."

"I'm sure she's trying her best."

I give him a look. George has never once complained. Even a frustrated sigh is rare. "Do you have to be so kind all the time? It's really annoying."

Chuckling, George lifts a majority of the boxes, leaving the light ones to me. "I was a bit miffed that she told Bridget she was the chair of the committee."

"Bravo."

"Coming?" Olivia shouts from the door. James appears next to her, and despite preparing myself, my heart skips a beat. Breathe, Hannah. He's just a man. A very nice-looking man.