The Prince's Secret (Prince Harry Fanfic)

Part 50 - Cracks

Samantha

I walked into the Sleeping Lion at just after 4pm that afternoon, and I still had not heard from Harry. Still wearing a hat, I unwound my scarf while I took a seat at the end of the bar.

Tom slid a pint in front of me, taking a good look at my face. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you'd been in a bad bar fight, Sammy girl."

He looked left and right, but the old men at the end of the bar were intent on their argument about sports on the telly. "However, I'm thinking it weren't quite a fight that you got into...although it seems like it was a bit of a bloody mess."

"Yeah? You think I look bad? You should see the tree I hit." I said.

Tom shook his head. "Be careful, Sammy. And I don't mean the horses. Horses don't usually break hearts. But ol' Ginger...you may have a fight on your hands there."

I took a deep draught of the brew. "A couple of months ago you were betting me otherwise."

"It's not him I'm thinking is going to fight you. I wouldn't trust that dark-haired little playactress of his fer a minute...and you shouldn't either."

"Holy shit!" Randa said, sliding onto the stool beside me. "Look at you!"

"Would you keep it down?" I said, glancing at the old fellows.

"Sorry. But wow—that's gotta hurt."

Not as much as not hearing from Harry all day, after the weekend we had, I thought, but I only said, "Yeah."

"Are you going to work like that tomorrow?" she asked.

I hadn't really thought about it. "Yeah, I guess so."

"You know that anyone around the polo yard who's seen the photo is going to know it's you. Especially when you show up like that," Randa said.

"Come on...how many people pay attention the royals? The rest of the grooms know I was going hunting. I'll tell them the truth—I was an idiot and hit a tree head on."

Randa rolled her eyes. "More people royal watch than you think. Don't be surprised if someone asks you about it. I'd stay home if I were you."

"Well, I don't really have a choice," I said. "Bills have to be paid, ya know?"

"Can't you get—him—to pay your bills?" she asked.

"I'm not going to ask him for money!" I said. "I can make my own way. And—I might have a commission for a coat soon." I told her about the texts from Eugenie inviting me to her flat at Kensington Palace to discuss the coat, but neglected to mention that I had yet to accept the offer. I still felt weird about it, even though I had done nothing to solicit the princess's attention, and it was not something Harry had set up, so I couldn't blame him. I felt like I was somehow trading on my relationship with Harry, when I wanted my work to be taken on its own merits.

Randa grew first round-eyed with surprise, then pursed her lips. "Well. I suppose next you'll be all in with the KP set, and won't want to hang out with the rest of us regular sods."

Her comment stung. "I really don't think making a coat for Eugenie is going to turn us into besties," I said. "It's just a business transaction. It's getting my work into the hands of people who appreciate it. That's the reason I came to London in the first place, not to hold polo ponies for a bunch of rich guys, which, although distracting, is not really my top career goal."

"So now you're making fun of my job," Randa said.

"What? No!" I said. "What is wrong with you today? You know me better than that."

"I dunno. Do I? Or have you just been using us all while you find a way to climb the ladder straight to the top?"

"Why would I do that?"

"Because you're sleeping with a fecking prince who was happily engaged till he met you?" Randa said, much too loud.

The old gents at the end of the bar turned to look at us. At me.

And then my phone rang...with the fecking prince's ringtone.

"Sorry. I have to take this," I said, scrambling to my feet.

"Of course you do, because he is more important than your friends," Randa snapped, accenting the last word.

There wasn't time to argue. I ducked into the back room, past a startled Tom, and out into the alley, not stopping to grab my coat. Fumbling with my phone I gasped out, "Hello?" hoping Harry was still on the line.

"I was ready to hang up. I thought you weren't going to answer," was his greeting.

"Yeah, well, I'm in the middle of a situation here," I said, hugging myself, wishing I had put on a heavier sweater.

"You're not the only one," he said. "Listen, I can't talk long. And it may be a while before you hear from me again. They're telling me the best way to deal with this is for us to lay low and not see each other for a while."

"Yeah, I suppose that is the best thing for you," I said.

"I'm doing this to protect you," he snapped. "I don't want the press on your trail. Or anyone else."

"You mean Meg."

Harry exhaled a sharp breath. "Just trust me, okay? I'll get in touch with you when I can. And I meant what I said yesterday. Think about it. Especially now...with everything that's going on."

There were voices on the other end and noises like Harry had covered his phone with this hand. When he came back on he said, "I've got to go."

"Okay." I said. I wanted to add something else...some confirmation of my feelings for him, but I waited to see if he would say it first.

He didn't. "Goodbye," is all he said, and he didn't even wait for my reply before he ended the call.

I leaned my head against the rough brick wall.

Yesterday.

Yesterday we had been together and he had told me he loved me, and I kind of almost said it back. Yesterday he wanted me to think about the future...a future with him. And now?

Now the press were onto us and he was sharp-voiced and recommending we stay away from each other for a while. How long a while? Days? Weeks?

And yet he had still asked me to think about it.

It was too cold for me to do any thinking outside. I went back into the pub.

My coat was still there and Tom had poured me another pint, but Randa was gone.

I plopped down onto the stool with a sigh. "Is she really mad?" I asked him.

"I'm thinking she's more jealous than mad," Tom said, leaning on the bar. "She thinks you're changing because you're getting important friends."

"Am I changing?" I asked him.

Tom smiled. "Maybe on the inside you are," he said, "but be careful you don't change too many things that made everyone like you in the first place. Ol' Ginger included."

I nodded and sipped my beer in silence. At long last I picked up my phone and accepted Eugenie's offer to meet next week, hoping that most of the bruises would have faded by that time.

Then I picked up my coat and headed back to my flat. I had a lot to think about.