Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
After Stefanos leaves, I clear our dishes and put away the containers that are out on the counter and load the dishwasher. Then I retreat to my room to call my mother as anxiety ricochets through my body.
Keep it together, I tell myself firmly. As if there’s a royal protocol for the sinking of yachts. Particularly yachts belonging to other royals. I flop onto my bed with its white duvet and fluffy pillows, sitting up against the headboard.
I message Mamma first to see if she’s available to talk, and of course, when I would love for her to be too busy to speak with me, it turns out she’s very available for a call. Like right now.
After a long moment of dithering, I call. The phone only rings twice before she answers my video call. “Hi, Mamma.”
“Theo, darling. I was thinking of you.” She smiles fondly at me. Just in case, I try to suss out any subtle hint of anger, shock, or dismay in her expression. If she’s any of those things, she’s keeping it well hidden. Obviously, she hasn’t heard the news, then.
“Why?”
She laughs. “Do I need a reason? You’re my son. Of course I think of you often. And Freja.”
“Is she still on with the ferret guy?” I can’t keep the weariness from my voice. “Can we cancel him?”
“Theo,” she scolds. “Yes. I mean no. I mean—yes, she’s still married to Avery, and no, we cannot cancel him.” She draws in a deep, steadying breath because someone has to take the high ground in this conversation, and obviously, it’s not me. “There’s no sign of an annulment, unfortunately.”
“That’s a real shame.”
“Where are you? It doesn’t look like your flat.” Mamma looks at me.
I run a hand through my hair and give her a sheepish look. “I’m not home. I’m in, er, Greece. Visiting a friend.”
“I see.” She continues to peer curiously at me, but admirably stops short of asking about which friend and if she knows them or if she could meet them, because she also knows it’s just as likely to be another one of the flings I’m known for.
And we don’t usually talk about those. Until they hit the press, that is.
“It’s the reason I’m calling, actually.” I try to look as reassuring as I can and attempt a smile that doesn’t look entirely convincing, I’m sure. Hopefully, she appreciates the effort.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, appraising. “What’s happened?”
“Fuck, that turned quickly,” I complain, shaking my head. She’s got extra-high-functioning mother radar. Or I’ve conditioned her over the years to my giveaway tells. “C’mon, Mamma. Like you didn’t even give it a second.”
“Theodor, I’m your mother, and I know you. It’s not Aidan again, is it? Please tell me so I know if I must manage another situation.”
If only it were Aidan again. At least his bullshit impacted me primarily, and then the broader Danish Royal Family as collateral damage. Now, with the yacht problem, it’s Stef’s issue first, mine second, and everyone else falls into third. Yet I’m still going to try to make this better.
“No, it’s not Aidan.” I draw every last hidden scrap of character I have hidden away in case of emergency—which is now—and come clean. “I, um, accidentally sank a yacht, Mamma.”
“You—” Mamma sucks back air as she stares at me. There’s a long moment of dead air. “I’m sorry, did I hear that correctly? That you sank a yacht?”
“Yes.” I grimace, giving her a sheepish look. “It’s true.”
“You don’t have a yacht to sink,” she says with alarm.
“Fair point, Mamma. I don’t. Conveniently, it was someone else’s yacht.”
She continues to stare, speechless.
I chew my lip as I give her a chance to let it all sink in.
“Are you alright? Is everyone else alright?” Mamma asks.
“Yes and yes.”
“And the yacht?”
“Unfortunately, the yacht didn’t do so well. It’s on the sea floor.”
Mamma goes back to the staring. “Is it… a big yacht?” she asks weakly.
“Fifty foot? Around there? Still, very sunken. Big enough for someone to notice, anyway. The good news is there were only two of us on board, and we were quickly rescued by the coast guard. Well, by another boat first and then the coast guard.”
“Dare I ask whose yacht it is?”
I wince. There goes Mamma, right for the jugular. She should’ve been an investigative journalist instead of Queen. “Um, it belongs to the Greek monarchy?”
“Theodor.”
“I know, I know. Believe me, I know.”
She’s quiet for a very long time. When she goes still like this, I know she’s trying to choose her words carefully. That’s when I know I’ve really disappointed her. Bracing myself, I chew my lip and wait.
“How did you sink this yacht, exactly?” Mamma asks wearily, then raises a hand to rub her eyes.
She studies me in a way that takes me back to being eight years old and caught wreaking havoc in the palace by my parents.
“I suppose I don’t need to know right now.
What’s done is done. Theodor, darling, the last thing this situation—or your reputation—needed is to create an international incident.
Especially with the Greek royals. They’ve been working hard to re-establish their profiles after their exile.
This is a disaster all around. I shudder to think of the replacement cost of the yacht. ”
“I know,” I say again, twitching my mouth. “You don’t need to say that again. I didn’t plan for this to happen. It just did. It was an accident.”
“I wish your accident had been more discreet,” she says frankly. Which, fair. I wish the same thing too. “What else should I know?”
“I had an interview with the coast guard when we got back to Paxos. Apparently, they’ll need to do some kind of follow-up investigation. And… I guess I’ll head back to London tomorrow. And I promise not to sink any more yachts between now and then.”
Mamma gives me a level look of warning.
“I have a plan to help make over my profile,” I offer tentatively.
James’ plan comes to me then in all its unbidden glory.
Even if all I want to do is stay here with Stefanos for that promised first fake date.
The realization rattles me so much I shiver.
If only we could pretend all this nautical misadventure action didn’t happen.
Except I’ve messed up my chances with Stefanos too. “You’ll see.”
“I’m worried. Very worried. Perhaps we should contact that PR company I told you about a few months ago…”
“No need. I’ve got this, Mamma. I promise. Best behavior.”
She gives me a stern look of warning. The no more fuckups, Theo sort of look.
After we hang up, I book a flight from Kerkyra to Athens early tomorrow morning.
I sit on the edge of my bed in the guest room, staring at the itinerary for a long moment.
Stefanos is probably getting a dressing-down from his family right now too.
If only this disaster hadn’t happened. And instead of sunken yachts, I shut my eyes and dare imagine the taste of Stefanos’ lips against mine.