Chapter 18
Eighteen
Lauren spent the remainder of the weekend eating overpriced Uber Eats orders that she really couldn’t afford anymore, streaming
bad reality TV on her laptop, and rotting in bed. Normally that would have felt like a perfect way to spend her time after
something as demanding as the state visit, but she felt only restless and somehow even more tired by Sunday night.
She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Brian, about how she was probably about to be fired, about how she’d have to explain
to Oscar that she sucked at her job and they couldn’t date anymore because she had to go back to Atlanta and live with her
mom and probably do things like get excited about the Double Ad Wednesday deals at Sprouts. (She didn’t even know what that
was, but she knew her mom loved Double Ad Wednesdays.)
She’d never see Jasper again, either, except on TV or online, or probably in a bunch of those sexy fan edits that hadn’t slowed down at all, especially after he had been photographed in his tailcoat at the state banquet.
His interview with Oscar had been all fluff and sunshine, charming smile and sun-dappled photos.
It basically read like a fawning movie star profile, which had made her grateful to Oscar.
She had sent him a text afterward: “Great work.”
“Right back at you,” came the reply, alongside a winking emoji.
But worse than Oscar or the duke, Lauren found that she couldn’t even think about saying goodbye to Joy without starting to
cry.
In fact, she was crying in the bathroom that Sunday night when Una waltzed in followed by a cloud of Baccarat Rouge 540. “Uh-oh,”
Una said breezily. “Do you need a minute for a good sob-fest? I can wait out in the hallway, but I absolutely cannot be late tonight. I have to be on a flight at nine p.m., no exceptions.”
“No, I’m fine,” Lauren said as she hastily wiped at her eyes.
“You don’t look fine, babe,” Una said, pulling her makeup bag out of her purse and going toward the mirror. “Want to come
with? I’m sure we can squeeze one more on his plane. That’s right, his plane.”
Lauren suspected that there were rules regarding private jets and weight limits, but she didn’t want to get into it. “No,
it’s fine. I’m actually glad I saw you. You’re about to have this bathroom all to yourself.”
“Oh, really? Are you moving to a new flat?” Una widened her eyes and started applying another layer of mascara to her already-spidery
lashes.
“Kind of?” Lauren said, and Una glanced up at her in the mirror. “I’m going back to America. I don’t think the job at the
Palace is working out.”
“Ooh, say more,” Una said, moving to her other eye.
“I’ve just screwed up basically every relationship I have there,” Lauren said.
“Did things not work out with the fuckable royal?” Una said, then glanced at her mascara tube. “Wait, is this waterproof?”
“Things were never going to go anywhere with the duke,” Lauren said. “But it’s everyone. My boss, his boss, my best friend.” Just thinking about Joy made her tear up again, and she reached for a tissue. “I think I’m toxic. I ruin everything.”
Una made a boo-hoo face. “Hun, don’t you fix things for a living?”
“Yes, but not, like, my problems. I fix everyone else’s.”
“Oh, because you get paid to do it.” Una nodded wisely. “Makes sense. Never do what you’re good at for free. Me too.”
“No, I just . . .” Lauren trailed off, thinking about Una’s comment. She did fix things. She had fixed the very first problem she had discovered at Buckingham Palace, walking into a room and solving
the racist vase scandal before she even had the job. She had helped transform Jasper from a broke Sasquatch into the world’s
most talked-about and desired royal. She had won over the Lord Chamberlain by talking (well, lying) about Irish setters, a
dog she had never encountered in real life. She had finally told her absentee father how she felt about him and held her own
with Harold Cockburn even as he repeatedly tried to knock her down. Eugene—well, Eugene was probably a lost cause, but James,
the world’s most buttoned-up man, had even admitted he admired her.
And if she could do all that for near-strangers, then surely she could fix a few things in her own life, right?
“Una?” Lauren said.
“Hmm? Change your mind about the flight? I’m not sure where it’s landing, but I know it’ll be grand.”
“No, I’ll pass. But did anyone ever tell you that you’re a genius?”
“Course. Everyone in my Mensa club. We meet the last Tuesday of the month.”
Lauren’s brain was humming again, her tears forgotten, and she gave Una a quick, fierce hug from behind. “You’re the best!”
she said.
“Watch the body makeup!” Una cried, but Lauren was already back in her apartment, a plan starting to form. “Does this mean you’re not leaving anymore?” Una yelled after her. “Can I have your cabinet space?”
“Sure!” Lauren said. “Whatever you want!”
She could hear the clatter of products being moved as she slammed her front door.
At 8:15 on Monday morning, Lauren came into work with a banker’s box under her arm and Starbucks in her hand. She had been
expecting a pretty empty and quiet office, especially after the state visit, when everyone had been pushed to the brink of
their abilities, but she knew there was one person who nearly always showed up bright and early.
And sure enough, Joy was in her office, a croissant on top of a white paper bag and a steaming cup of coffee next to it. She
was typing away on her laptop, and when Lauren knocked on the half-open door, she looked genuinely surprised to see her.
“Oh!” she said. “Hello.”
“Hi,” Lauren replied. “Um, sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”
“No, it’s fine, it’s fine.” Joy paused. “What’s in the box?”
“Oh, this. Yes. I’m”—she decided to rip the Band-Aid right off—“I’m going to hand in my notice.”
Joy blinked. “I’m sorry, you’re what?”
“I’m quitting,” Lauren said. “I’m going back to DC and figuring out my next steps.”
“What?!” Joy said again. “Why?”
“Because.” Lauren took a deep breath. She hadn’t slept at all the night before, trying to figure out what she was going to say, and she still didn’t feel like it was right.
“I ran away from my problems in DC instead of facing them. There are some things I just can’t fix here.
But one thing I know I can fix—the one thing I need to fix—is my friendship with you. ”
Joy just blinked at her, but Lauren was fairly certain she could see tears gathering in the corners of her eyes.
“Joy, I am so, so sorry,” Lauren said. “You were trying to protect me from doing something really stupid, and I was embarrassed
and I lashed out, and you are the absolute last person who deserves to be treated that way. You’ve been this amazing friend
to me ever since that day I tried to suck up to everyone with doughnuts—”
Joy chuckled a little in remembrance.
“—and every single day after that. You work so hard, even when people act like absolute assholes, and you bring me food from
Pret and you took me out dancing when you knew I was homesick and . . .” Lauren looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath.
“You helped me remember what it was like to have a good friend, and I’m sorry that I wasn’t a good enough friend back to you.
And I don’t know if I can fix what we had, but I want to try to make it up to you in the future.”
Joy was quiet for a few seconds too long, which made Lauren’s stomach swoop with anxiety. “I was gutted, babes,” she finally
said.
“I know,” Lauren replied.
“The way you spoke to me really hurt.”
Lauren looked down at her shoes, dabbing at her eyes.
“And I forgive you. But!” Joy quickly added as Lauren’s head jerked up. “This can never, ever happen again. I give second
chances, not thirds. No matter how much I love you.”
Lauren just flung her arms around her.
“It’s too early for all of this!” Joy protested, even as she hugged Lauren back. “Look at you, coming into my office and performing
a dramatic monologue like you’re in the West End.”
She stood back and held Lauren out at arm’s length. “You better be joking about going back to DC, though.”
Lauren pulled away. “I’m not,” she said. “I think my time here at the Palace is up.”
“Okay, hold on,” Joy said, then went to shut her office door. “You’re quitting?” she said.
“Um, yes?” Lauren said.
“You’re quitting.”
“I’m going to quit before Eugene fires me. I screwed up a bunch of things and I don’t know if I can stay here because of that.
I’ll go back and stay with my mom to figure things out first. Maybe I’ll look into law school.”
Joy was silent at that, and when Lauren finally looked up at her, she seemed disgusted. “Oh no,” she said. “What, are you going to live in your childhood bedroom?”
Lauren’s guilty silence was all the answer Joy needed.
Joy pressed her fingers to her temples. “Lauren,” she finally said. “I truly enjoyed your little soliloquy, so let me deliver
one myself. We’ve both been here for exactly the same amount of time. How much progress do you think I’ve made here at the
Palace compared to how much I wanted to? I’ll tell you, you don’t even have to guess.” Joy rolled her eyes. “Barely any. Most
of my initiatives have been shot down, Pride at the Palace probably won’t happen until 2028 because, as you quite rightly
pointed out, I cannot get anyone to respond to an email about it. My biggest win was getting the Strathearns to actually interact
with real people for longer than thirty seconds. So now you’re telling me that you’re seriously just going to leave me here
by myself? How badly did you fuck up, Lauren?”
And for three minutes straight, Lauren unfurled the entire story for Joy: her dad at Balmoral and the ensuing video, James’s and Eugene’s reactions to it possibly leaking, Oscar working overtime to keep the duke out of the crosshairs, Jasper taking the fall for her, and Brian showing up at the state banquet.
“What?!” Joy said again as soon as Lauren said Brian’s name. Her eyes had been getting bigger and bigger as Lauren spoke,