Chapter 3
Spencer
“L
yra can’t be the Suitorette,” Odin sputters.
Abigail leans forward to peer at the screen Gunnar is holding. “Sorry to disagree, Your Highness, but why can’t she?”
All heads whip around to Abigail, who looks as surprised as Odin. “I mean, people go on that show to become famous—or as famous as you can from a reality show. Or they want to find love.”
I remember what it sounded like the first time I was with Bo and he felled a tree. The crack when it began to fall, the noise when it landed, snapping branches, leaves flying.
It feels like that crack just happened to my heart, and now my branches are snapping as I land with a thud.
Lyra is looking for love.
That doesn’t sound right. It definitely doesn’t feel right.
And why is Abigail talking about Lyra and love? “That’s why you went on it, right?” she asks Odin like he’s standing here with us in the bar instead of in the kitchen in Saint Pierre. “Lyra doesn’t need fame, so maybe she’s serious about finding love.”
I see Gunnar look at me. He opens his mouth and then shuts it, and I’m glad he does.
I know what he’s thinking. I know what all of them are thinking, because I’m thinking the same thing.
It’s always been assumed that if Lyra was looking for love, she’d be looking at me.
There’s always been a connection between us. An understanding. We sit together during family dinners. I’m always the one she turns to with a funny aside or a complaint. I’ve been her escort/date/plus-one at countless events, galas and ceremonies.
She sends me pictures of her shoes.
Nothing has ever been said, but when you’ve been in love with a person for most of your life, you assume—and expect—a happily ever after one day.
And with that, my thoughts come to a screeching halt.
No one said I’m in love with Lyra. I’ve never said it. I’ve never even thought it.
Lyra doesn’t think I’m in love with her. She’s not in love with me. If she was, I would know, because men know things like that.
I would know.
We just… we’re…
Friends. Princess Lyra and I are friends.
Who send an inordinate number of pictures to each other. And texts. Instagram reels.
Letters.
But we’re just friends.
Besides, I’m with Abigail and how can I feel the way I do about Abigail and still have the assumption that a happily ever is still in the cards with Lyra?
That’s not logical. Or possible. Or just—not.
I am not in love with Princess Lyra.
And if she wants to find love on a reality television show, so be it. Good luck to the men on the show, because she is a lot to handle.
Her brothers look to me to control her, which I always tell them is impossible because Lyra is headstrong and knows her own mind. If she wants to do something, she will do it.
It’s the doing-it-without-me that feels a little off.
“She’s going to be on the show?” I ask, just to clarify.
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you.” Odin is… upset. Surprising. He’s the most serious of the family, other than Bo, and keeps his emotions behind the mask of the well-mannered, dutiful prince.
Not that he’s a prince any longer—at least not officially. But he’s still one of my best friends, crown or no crown.
“Lyra is moving into our house, because Camille did this thing and offered that the Suitorette could stay with us during the time she’s on the island.” Odin huffs a deep breath. “I had no idea it was going to be Lyra.”
“But isn’t it better that she’s staying with you? So you can make sure she doesn’t—” Gunnar doesn’t finish the thought.
Doesn’t what? Embarrass the royal family? Honestly, no one cares about that, other than the American press who have a history of promoting quasi-famous, attractive women into household names.
It’s true that Lyra’s claim to fame is that she’s a princess. Her father is the king of Laandia. She’s done some modelling, she’s a social media influencer, and she gets her picture taken a lot. She’s not famous.
Yet.
She is, but she’s not.
But that’s not why I’m worried.
“She’s going to fall in love with one of these guys and we don’t know anything about them,” Kalle says in a tight voice.
That’s sort of what’s going through my mind as well. Sort of. “I’ll get dossiers on them to check for security risks,” I tell him.
Looking at this as a security risk gives me something to focus on.
“She might end up with one of these guys, Spence. Do you know what that means?”
I take another deep breath. And then another. I know what Odin is saying, and I don’t like it. I don’t like anything about this. The thought of Lyra meeting all of these men, spending time with them, kissing them—it’s making me slightly nauseous.
More than slightly.
But I can’t do anything about it. And I certainly shouldn’t be feeling like that, not with Abigail sitting right beside me, giving me a skeptical side-eye.
I smile reassuringly at her. At least that’s how I hope it comes across.
It’s not like I can tell her what to do. No one can—or should—but her brothers obviously think putting their two cents in over this would be a good idea. I’m not Lyra’s brother. I’m not… anything… to her. Some days we’re not even friends.
Lyra has never told me how she feels about me—if she does feel anything.
And I’ve never told her either.
Abigail is still watching me, and she’s not the only one. I smile ruefully. “It means that maybe she’ll be happy,” I say. “Besides, we can’t stop her.”
“You could!”
“No.” I shake my head. “I can’t.”
“Odin was pretty peeved about the Lyra stuff,” Bo says later when we’re in the SUV being driven back to the castle. Now that Hettie and Tema are here, he’s finally making use of his security detail. “Or do you think it was the Suitor stuff?”
I think Odin’s reaction is that of a big brother, and not because he has a grudge against the show after getting voted off. Or sent home. I’m not sure how it works.
I don’t have time for reality television nor the energy to watch the drama competition between that many people would produce.
Am I supposed to watch the show now that Lyra will be on it?
That would be a different sort of torture.
I suspect this conversation will be as well.
I’m not sure if I said goodnight to Abigail—a proper goodnight like a boyfriend would, with a hug and a kiss, and an I’ll call you later. Because I am Abigail’s boyfriend.
I am nothing to Lyra, so why is Lyra is looking for love echoing in my head like a sonic boom?
“What do you think about it?” Bo continues.
Bo is really going there—right now, when Hettie is sitting between us in the back of the SUV. I should have driven my own car home. “About why Odin is so upset?”
“No, Spence,” Hettie says impatiently. “About if you’re upset. You and Lyra are—”
“Nothing,” I snap. I soften my voice and my expression. “We are nothing.” It’s not like I can say anything else. Hettie is my friend and she’s also Abigail’s best friend. I know what side she’d be on.
“I was going to say complicated,” she corrects.
“Yeah. That,” Bo agrees. “I love you and Abigail, but you and Lyra? When you see the two of you together…”
The way that Lyra always stands just a little too close to me. The way I finish her sentences and whisper comments in her ear to make her laugh. The way that we’re always the last to leave a party or the dinner table.
How I find some reason to touch Lyra when I’m close to her.
Hettie sighs with frustration. “I know you and Abigail have gotten close since we’ve been back and I’m happy about that.
So happy.” She pats my knee with a big smile.
“You have no idea. But Abigail aside—I care about you, Spence. And if you have any feelings for Lyra, whether you want to admit them or not, you need to put a stop to this.”
How does Hettie know that was my first instinct? That instead of being driven to the castle, I wanted nothing more but to catch the first flight to Saint Pierre and drag Lyra home.
I’ve never been the Neanderthal type, and the urge to throw Lyra over my shoulder and away from all other men makes me a little shaky.
The fact I had this urge while I was saying goodnight to Abigail makes me sick to my stomach.
“Easier said than done,” I mutter. “Not that I would. Or could. It’s her decision.”
“Yes, but you are the one who will suffer,” Hettie says in a gentle voice. “Trust me on this—those years I was away from Bo, my heart broke whenever I saw a picture of him with another woman.”
“Hettie,” Bo protests.
“I’m not saying this to make you feel bad.” She turns to him. “And thank god there weren’t that many of them. But it hurt. And Lyra is going to be all over the place, and it mightbe painful. I don’t like the thought of you hurt.”
“It’ll be fine.” I sound convincing. I sound sure of myself.
But Hettie believes me even less than I believe myself.
“Oh, Spence. You lie. And you need to decide how much you can take,” she tells me with another pat on the knee. “Because trust me—it won’t be fine.”
“Do you think she’s doing this because of you and Abigail?” Bo asks.
“No,” I scoff, even though the same thought has me spiraling since Odin’s call.
It would be such a Lyra thing to do.
But if that’s her reason, then it would mean— “No,” I repeat, less forcefully this time.
If that’s the reason, then I can’t blame her. I told Lyra I wanted to explore a relationship with Abigail and that’s what I’m doing. But still…
It’s difficult to give up old dreams, especially when you’re not sure that’s all they are. Old dreams.
“What do you do when she falls in love with one of these guys?” Bo asks.
I can’t answer because I don’t know. I don’t know what I would do. And I don’t know what to say to Bo about this.
I should know what I would do, because I always know. Because if I don’t know, that means I should have been figuring all of this out all along. I should have let myself find out what Lyra really is to me, rather than have it suddenly become this massive issue that I know will keep my up all night.
Bo just looks at me.
I finally have to turn away from his gaze.