Chapter 13
Harald
Someone cleared their throat – loudly and with the kind of pointed emphasis that suggested they'd been doing it for a while.
I reluctantly pulled back from Daniel, still feeling breathless from the kiss, though our hands found each other immediately, fingers intertwining.
My royal etiquette training definitely hadn't covered what to do after kissing a gorgeous man senseless in an American coffee shop.
A barista was aggressively wiping the same spot on the counter, failing spectacularly at pretending not to stare.
Someone in the back of the café let out a wolf whistle, followed by scattered applause.
An elderly woman in the corner shot us an enthusiastic thumbs up over her crossword puzzle, mouthing what looked suspiciously like "Get it! "
I tried not to wince as I caught sight of my security detail strategically positioned around the café – Erik by the novelty mug display, his face flushed crimson as he pretended to be fascinated by a cup that read "Bean Me Up Scotty," Agent Andersen attempting to blend in while reading yesterday's newspaper upside down, and Agent Larsen somehow making the simple act of stirring coffee look suspicious.
Daniel, thankfully, seemed completely oblivious to their presence.
"So," Daniel said, his smile bright enough to power several small countries, "I usually at least make the guy buy me dinner before putting on a show like that."
I felt my own face heat up, but couldn't stop grinning. "Well, I do owe you a cappuccino that's probably gone cold by now."
Daniel scrunched up his nose, the expression making my heart skip.
"After three cups while waiting for you, I'm pretty sure I can feel colors.
But..." He grabbed my hand, his fingers sliding between mine.
The warmth of his touch sent electricity through my arm.
"How about I show you around instead? The city's gorgeous this time of day. "
My security detail shifted in my peripheral vision. Erik's face tightened with concern – walking meant exposure, unpredictable variables, risk. But Daniel's eyes sparkled with such genuine excitement that the words tumbled out before I could stop them.
"Lead the way."
We pushed through the café's door into the crisp autumn air. The bustle of New York wrapped around us – car horns, fragments of conversation, music spilling from shop doorways. So different from the formal stillness of palace corridors.
"Fair warning," Daniel squeezed my hand, "I'm a terrible tour guide. I mostly know where the best food trucks are and which subway stations to avoid after midnight."
"That sounds perfect actually." I found myself matching his easy smile. The weight of crown and country felt lighter here, walking hand-in-hand down a crowded sidewalk where no one looked twice at us. Just another couple out for a stroll.
"Really? Because I was thinking we could start with Central Park. It's not far, and there's this spot by the lake that's..." He trailed off, tugging me closer as a cyclist whizzed past. "Sorry, these bike messengers are basically urban cowboys."
I laughed, allowing myself to be pulled against his side. Behind us, I knew Erik and the security team were maintaining their discrete distance, but for once I didn't care. Daniel's enthusiasm was infectious, his hand warm in mine, and New York stretched before us full of possibilities.
The autumn breeze ruffled Daniel's dark hair as we walked, and I found myself mesmerized by how the sunlight caught the subtle auburn highlights.
His hand remained firmly clasped in mine, our fingers interlocked as if they'd always belonged that way.
Each block we passed revealed another layer of the city – street vendors hawking roasted nuts, tourists wielding selfie sticks, locals speed-walking with determination.
"That bodega has the best coffee in Manhattan, I swear." Daniel pointed with his free hand. "And see that pizza place? They're open until 4 AM. Saved my life during some rough nights."
The casual way he shared pieces of his world made my chest tighten.
No ceremony, no carefully crafted statements – just honest stories told with an open heart.
Back home, every word I spoke carried the weight of centuries of protocol.
Here, walking these bustling streets with Daniel, I felt that weight lifting.
"You okay?" Daniel's thumb brushed across my knuckles. "You got quiet for a second there."
"More than okay." I squeezed his hand. "It's just... nice. Being here with you."
A taxi blared its horn as we crossed the street, making me jump. Daniel laughed and pulled me closer, his shoulder bumping mine. "Don't worry, that's just how New Yorkers say hello."
The edges of Central Park came into view ahead – a green oasis rising above the concrete and glass.
Daniel's eyes lit up as he pointed out different landmarks, his enthusiasm infectious.
I found myself studying his profile, the way his whole face transformed when he smiled, how he gestured expressively with his free hand while never letting go of mine.
"You're staring," he said, catching my eye with a grin.
"Can you blame me?" The words slipped out before I could stop them, but Daniel's resulting blush was worth any breach of royal decorum.
We passed under the park's stone archway, leaving the city's chaos behind.
The path ahead wound through trees dressed in red and gold, and for the first time in years, I felt truly present in the moment – not Prince Harald, not the future king, just a man walking hand-in-hand with someone who made his heart race.
The peaceful atmosphere of our walk shattered when I caught movement from the corner of my eye.
A woman in a bright yellow coat stood frozen on the path ahead, her iPhone raised and pointed directly at us.
Her eyes narrowed with the kind of scrutiny that made my stomach drop – the look of someone trying to place a familiar face.
"Wait, aren't you—"
"Let's check out the lake this way." I tugged Daniel's hand, steering us down a side path before she could finish her sentence. My pulse hammered in my throat. "I bet the view is better from the south side."
"You sure? Because I thought—"
"Trust me, I'm usually pretty good when it comes to my sense of direction" I picked up our pace, weaving between the trees. Behind us, I glimpsed Erik's tall frame intercepting the woman. His voice carried just enough for me to catch fragments.
"Delete those photos... security concern... immediately."
Daniel remained focused on pointing out a group of turtles sunning themselves on a rock, completely unaware of the close call. I forced myself to breathe normally, to keep my expression neutral even as anxiety churned in my gut. Erik would handle it. He always did.
"You okay?" Daniel squeezed my hand. "You seem tense all of a sudden."
"Just remembered something I need to tell my assistant Erik later." The lie tasted bitter, but I couldn't bring myself to shatter this perfect moment with the truth. Not yet. "Nothing important."
We rounded a bend in the path, putting more distance between us and the woman with the phone.
My security detail shifted positions seamlessly, Agent Larsen taking point while Erik dealt with the situation.
I hated this – the constant vigilance, the lies by omission, the way my title threatened to poison even the most genuine connections.
But when Daniel's shoulder brushed mine as he leaned in to point out a street performer in the distance, his smile bright and unguarded, I pushed the guilt aside. Just for today, I wanted to be simply Harald, walking through Central Park with a beautiful man who saw me, not my crown.
The ducks clustered at the water's edge, waddling closer as Daniel tossed bits of bread from a paper bag he'd grabbed at a nearby cart.
The late afternoon sun caught the ripples on the lake, turning them to liquid gold.
We'd found a secluded bench partially hidden by a weeping willow, away from the main paths.
"My therapist would probably say this is very therapeutic," Daniel said, breaking off another piece of bread. "Feeding ducks instead of overthinking life."
"Mine would agree." The words slipped out before I could catch them. Daniel's eyebrows lifted slightly, but his smile remained warm.
"You see someone too?"
I nodded, watching a particularly bold duck snatch a piece of bread from its companion. "For anxiety mainly. And... other things." The bench creaked as I shifted closer to him, our thighs touching. "It's hard sometimes, feeling like you have to be perfect for everyone."
Daniel's hand found mine, his thumb tracing circles on my palm. "Tell me about it. When I was in the system, every new home felt like an audition. Like if I just acted right, smiled enough, maybe they'd keep me."
The raw honesty in his voice made my chest ache. Here was someone who understood what it meant to live under constant scrutiny, albeit for very different reasons. I wanted to tell him everything – about the crown, the expectations, my father's disapproval. Instead, I squeezed his hand.
"You don't have to perform for me," I said softly.
Daniel turned to face me, his dark eyes searching mine. A stray lock of hair fell across his forehead, and I resisted the urge to brush it back. "Same goes for you, you know. Whatever's weighing on you, whatever you're carrying – you can just be yourself here."
The irony of his words twisted in my gut, but the genuine care in his expression soothed the sting. A duck quacked impatiently at our feet, demanding its share of bread. Daniel laughed, breaking the intensity of the moment, and tossed it a piece.
"Everybody's a critic," he said, leaning his head against my shoulder.
The weight of Daniel's head on my shoulder felt both perfect and painful.
Each casual touch, each unguarded smile twisted the knot of guilt in my stomach tighter.
Here, in this peaceful corner of Central Park, I could pretend to be just Harald – no titles, no duties, no expectations.
But the lie grew heavier with each passing moment.
Daniel's fingers traced lazy patterns on my palm. "You know what I like about you? You actually listen. Not just waiting for your turn to talk, but really hearing what I'm saying."
My throat tightened. I did listen – because with Daniel, I could be the person receiving the confidence rather than the one always expected to have the answers. The freedom of anonymity let me focus entirely on him, on understanding his struggles and sharing my own without the weight of protocol.
"I want to tell you something," I started, then faltered as Daniel shifted closer, his warmth seeping through my sweater.
The words stuck in my throat. Once I told him the truth, everything would change.
The easy banter, the natural connection, the way he looked at me like I was just another person – it would all disappear behind the barrier of formality my title created.
"You can tell me anything," Daniel said softly, lifting his head to meet my eyes. The trust in his expression made my chest ache.
I opened my mouth, then closed it again as a family walked past our bench, the children pointing excitedly at the ducks. Erik's tall frame shifted in my peripheral vision, a constant reminder of the reality I was trying to escape.
Daniel deserved the truth. But selfishly, desperately, I wanted to preserve this moment – this pure connection untainted by crown and country. Just a little longer. Just one more hour of being seen for myself, not my inheritance.
"I just..." I squeezed his hand. "I'm really glad I met you."
The words were true, even if they weren't the whole truth. Daniel's answering smile lit up his entire face, and I tried to memorize it – this moment before everything would inevitably change.