CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
I woke up with a start the next morning as Vella was perched on my nightstand, staring down at me like a vulture. I made an undignified sound.
“What are you doing?” I asked her.
“Imagine my disappointment when I returned home last night to find you here alone,” she said.
Like there was going to be any other outcome.
“Speaking of last night, how was your date?” Maybe I could distract her. I turned onto my back, rubbing my eyes.
“It went very well. Why didn’t you ever tell me how much cowboys know about ropes and knots?”
I held up my hand to stop her. “I do not want more information.”
“That makes one of us. What happened with Max?”
Knowing she was going to badger me until I told her everything, I did just that. I recounted every moment that had happened between Max and me from the time Vella ditched me at the country bar until he made his enigmatic statement and then went off to the elevators.
When I told her how I’d nearly been run over and didn’t quite get his reaction to it, she said, “Didn’t you say he has like, a savior complex?”
“He did tell me that.”
“It probably freaked him out that he almost let something happen to you.”
That made a certain kind of sense. “Maybe.” But that whole incident had felt like something more than just him not living up to a specific idea he had of himself as a rescuer.
Vella interrupted my train of thought. “What I don’t get is that you had the chance to kiss him in the rain and you didn’t take it. Isn’t that like, the most aspirational thing that can happen in a rom-com?”
“I—” It hadn’t occurred to me until she pointed it out that Max might have kissed me if I hadn’t rushed us out of the rain, and I wanted to kick myself.
It would have been fantastically romantic.
“I just cannot with you and your incredible denseness right now,” she said, throwing her arms up as she stood. “Nobody can actually be this clueless.”
She went into her room and I heard the door lock behind her. I went to use the bathroom, and after I’d finished, I washed my hands and studied myself in the mirror.
I had left something out when I told her about my time with Max, in part because I knew her reaction would have been even worse. Something had shifted last night after the near miss with the car.
Not just my new appreciation for life, but things between me and Max.
I had been trying to keep our friendship light and easy for my own emotional health, but I was failing in every way imaginable on that front. My defenses had been built out of straw and sticks and it had taken one big gust to knock everything down.
Everything between us had deepened. I’d become even more attached to him.
The problem was I didn’t know if Max felt the same.
I might have faced one fear last night, but I wasn’t sure if I was ready to try to conquer another.
The day flew by in a blur because I had so much to do. Vella was in and out all day shooting me annoyed looks, probably due to my supposed cluelessness when it came to Max. I had my phone glued to my ear as I tried to make so many last-minute arrangements.
I stayed up later than I’d intended and wondered whether I should just remain awake the entire night until Princess Chiara’s wedding at four thirty in the morning, or if I should try to get a few hours of sleep before it began.
My mom texted me while I was debating.
IT’S ALMOST TIME! MOM SEND
When my phone had buzzed at me, I’d had a momentary hope that Max would be the one texting me, and I was disappointed that it wasn’t from him. He hadn’t texted or called all day and I didn’t know what to make of it. His radio silence was odd, given that we had been texting and calling on a daily basis. How could he be so sweet and hand-kissy one minute and then ignore me the next?
While I knew that I could have reached out to him first, I needed some kind of sign from him. Something to let me know that I wasn’t in this alone.
I awoke with a start on the couch after I heard someone knocking on the front door. I had meant to stay up, but I must have drifted off. I looked at my phone with bleary eyes. It was four fifteen in the morning. I hadn’t set an alarm—I would have overslept and missed the wedding.
Had Vella gone out again and forgotten her keys? She’d never done it in the past, but I couldn’t figure out who would be knocking so early in the morning.
I padded over to the door, looking through the keyhole.
My heart slammed against my chest when I saw Max standing there, holding bags and a tray.
I looked terrible. I hadn’t showered in a couple of days and was wearing my rattiest sweats and a T-shirt of a band my mom had liked when she was younger called Duran Duran. There were so many holes in it that it could have doubled as swiss cheese.
But my curiosity was too great and I had to know what he was doing here at a time when even the sun was still asleep.
I opened the door. “Max?”
“Everly!” He looked fresh and clean, and as he brushed past me to get into the apartment, I noticed that he smelled amazing.
I wondered if I could sneak off and put on some deodorant and brush my teeth without him noticing.
Basta came inside, sniffing every available surface. She nosed me on my leg, and I scratched her ears, still in shock to find them here. She went over to a corner and curled up, quickly falling asleep.
“What are you two doing?”
He gave me a funny look. “We’re here to watch the wedding with you.”
“We didn’t arrange that,” I said, watching as he set his bags down on what little counter space he could find in our kitchen. I was pretty sure I would remember if he and I had decided to have our own viewing party.
“That’s why they call it a surprise. I thought it would be fun.”
What would have been more fun was being able to prepare myself, maybe put on one of my Kat dresses before he came over.
He mistook my silence. “I can go if you want.”
“No! I mean, no. I want you to stay. We just can’t wake up Vella or else she will do something terrible.”
My phone beeped.
ARE YOU WATCHING? MOM SEND
I texted her back.
Yes, I am.
I didn’t tell her about Max, though. My mom and meemaw would have died if they’d known I was watching the wedding alongside a real Monterran.
“What is all this?” I asked, watching him unpack.
“I thought I should bring breakfast.”
“You know it’s just me here, right? I don’t have an entire platoon hiding in my bathroom.”
He grinned at me. “Leftovers are never a bad thing. I didn’t know what you would like, so I brought a little of everything. They’re all Monterran dishes. I figured I’d go with a theme.”
My mouth parted slightly. What was I supposed to do with this level of thoughtfulness?
“So I have zeppoles, which are basically like doughnuts, cornettos that are croissants but with a Nutella filling, maritozzi, which is a sweet bun with whipped cream, gelato in three flavors—”
“Gelato’s not breakfast,” I told him.
“It is if you eat it at breakfast,” he responded with a grin. “There’s also crema frittas, arancini con cioccolato ...”
So many of the pastries he was pointing at looked like they’d been fried. “Basically you brought me a heart attack.”
“But what a way to go.”
My heart thudded slow and hard in response.
“I also brought a charcuterie board with cheese and meats. There’s prosciutto and sopressata, burrata, fresh mozzarella and Parmigiano-Reggiano, along with olives, figs, grapes, and some water crackers.” He sounded so proud of himself.
“Is this what Monterrans eat every day?” I asked in disbelief. There was so much food.
“The typical breakfast would be like cappuccino and biscuits, which I also brought you. We dunk our biscuits in our coffee.”
He held something up that was not a biscuit. “That’s a cookie,” I said. “Whatever you do, don’t tell Vella. She has a problem with countries who call cookies ‘biscuits.’ But cookies for breakfast? I could get on board with that.”
“European biscuits are not as sweet as American cookies.”
“That’s a shame,” I told him. “Sugar makes everything better.”
His gaze drifted down to my lips. “I do have a special fondness for sweet things.”
That thick tension returned, making my limbs feel sluggish. “Thank you,” I managed to say. “This was really kind and a very fun surprise.”
“You’re welcome.”
Max leaned his body toward me and I didn’t know how to interpret it or respond. I went over to a cabinet and opened it, grabbing a couple of my special plates. “Should we get some food and go watch the wedding?” I asked.
“Absolutely.” He took the plate from me, his long fingers brushing against mine, and I nearly dropped it onto the floor. Fortunately he had quick reflexes and caught the plate in time.
I wanted to explain to him that I wasn’t normally this clumsy and it was entirely his fault. That kind of confession could only lead to embarrassing places, so I stayed quiet.
We both loaded up our plates, and I was so discombobulated by standing this close to him that I floundered around for a safer topic for conversation. Anything to derail where my mind was headed. “I’m guessing most of this doesn’t fall within the healthy spectrum.”
“No, Monterrans do things in moderation. We eat our sweets, but not too many.”
“Good thing I’m not Monterran,” I said. “I may not eat well but at least I’m eating a lot.”
He laughed, and it seemed to break that overwhelming tension. Then he finally noticed the plate I’d handed him. “What is this?”
“Commemorative plates from when Nico and Kat, er, King Dominic and Queen Katerina, got married. I have a matching mug that I drink out of every morning. It’s basically my version of the good china.”
He smiled at me, like he thought I was adorable. “You really are a fan.”
I was not going to tell him about my replica of Kat’s wedding ring or the many dresses I’d bought to copy her style or how my screen saver was of the royal family’s castle.
Or the pen set my mom had bought me when I’d graduated from high school, each one featuring a different member of the Monterran royal family.
“A bit of a fan,” I agreed. “Should we turn the wedding on?”
We headed over to the couch and I set my plate on the coffee table in front of me and turned on the TV. I found the channel showing the wedding and put down the remote.
“Should we get Basta something to eat?” I asked.
At the mention of her name, she lifted her head, eyes slightly opening. Then she immediately went back to sleep.
“It’s too early for her,” Max said. “She’ll be begging for treats later, though. Is Vella going to join us?”
“This is too early for her, too. It’s usually when she’s coming home, not when she’s getting up.”
He took a bite of one of his pastries and then said, “You mentioned something the other day about how she keeps her bedroom door locked. You’ve really never seen the inside?”
Finally, someone I could confide in about how weird that was. “Yes! When I first moved in, all I wanted to do was break down her door and find out what she was hiding in there. I even watched some videos online on how to pick locks.”
“Which basically makes you an expert on it,” he teased.
“Exactly. But now that we’re friends, I just respect her need for privacy. I do wonder if she’s got some of her ex-boyfriends in there chained to the wall.”
“A collection of really creepy dolls?”
“I could see that. Or maybe she’s guarding a portal to Narnia. Who knows?”
On-screen, members of the royal family were arriving. The streets had been cleared, but blinding white snow glistened on every rooftop. Crowds lined the streets, holding up signs and cheering for the royals.
“It’s so pretty there,” I said. “It must be an amazing place to live.”
“There is definitely a provincial charm, with medieval buildings and cobblestone streets that make you feel like you’ve walked into a different time. The sun is different there, this soft golden haze over everything. The people are open and friendly. Monterrans are notorious for their work-life balance.”
“I should be better about that.”
“Everything has its positives and negatives, and that mentality isn’t so great when you need a plumber. Tradespeople don’t always come when you call, and it’s normal for packages to take weeks to arrive.”
“Do you miss it?” I asked.
“The mail system? No. But there are a lot of things I miss about Monterra.” He shifted his body to face me, putting his arm along the back of the couch. “Although New York is pretty great, too.”
“It’s probably due to that fantastic tour guide of yours.”
I’d meant for it to be a joke, but my heart untethered itself from my chest and tried to climb up into my throat when he said, “It is due to her, yes.”