24. Nick
NICK
Somehow, my teammates find the strength to meet up at Stone’s Throw Tavern after our aborted game. This time, though, we’re all drinking water and coffee.
Griffin is getting lots of dagger eyes from our hungover teammates, especially Bill.
“Look on the bright side: technically, we didn’t lose!” Hank says. We sit next to each other and hold hands under the table. I think we’re the only members of the Comebacks in good moods.
“And we didn’t throw up on the ice,” I add. “Just the penalty box.”
“Honestly, I’m surprised the Blades tossed their cookies. You’d think younger guys would be able to hold their liquor better. Or at least make yourself blow chunks into a trash can before going out there. Y’know, like a civilized person.” Hank shakes his head.
I’m the only one who laughs at his comment.
“He has a point,” Griffin says.
“Griffin, enough,” Bill shoots back. He rubs at his forehead.
“I didn’t force you to go to a bar crawl.”
“No, but you were very persuasive,” Des says. “And you have the whole eyepatch thing going for you, which only increases the intimidation.”
“I don’t think any of us had fun last night,” Bill says.
Hank and I would care to disagree. I’m not sure how much our teammates saw of us last night. As my hangover fades, memories of last night sparkle in my mind. And it’s all absolutely wonderful.
My phone buzzes with a text from Agnes, pulling me out of this life and instantly dropping me back into Prince Nicholas world.
Agnes: Your Highness, I wanted to check in. Can we talk?
Seeing “Your Highness” makes my stomach drop. I don’t respond, choosing to stay cocooned in Sourwood.
Mitch brings over another pitcher of water and cups. Everyone grabs for a cup at the same time. By the time Tanner pours everyone a glass, and a refill, the pitcher’s empty.
“Bill, you’ve been giving me the stink eye all day. Can you give it a rest?” Griffin asks.
“Griff, what were you thinking?” Bill asks, his tone softening. “You hate partying and getting drunk. A bar crawl is the last place in the world you want to be. I saw you last night. You weren’t having fun. You were watching Jack have fun.”
Griffin spins his glass in his hand, and for the first time, I detect an invisible weight on his shoulders that he’s desperate to get off.
“Jack wanted to go out with his boyfriend,” he says quietly. “Every time he wants to go out, and I say I’m too tired, it’s a reminder to him that I’m so much older. One day, he might think, ‘What the hell am I doing with this old man?’”
I’ve seen lots of relationships with major age gaps in them. Being around very wealthy people, I regularly meet older men with much younger girlfriends. Trophy wives. I wonder how they manage to make it work. I assume money smoothes out all their issues.
“Jack loves you,” Hank says without an ounce of doubt.
“He loves me now. But he’s in his prime—”
“So are you,” Bill says, his tone solemn and final.
“He could decide he wants to date someone his own age. Someone who wants to go to clubs and bars and late concerts. Someone who isn’t tied down with young kids.
” Griffin rubs at his face, creased with exhaustion.
“I don’t know how this thing between us is still working, but I love him, and I don’t want to lose him.
When he told me I didn’t have to go to the bar crawl, I panicked. I worried he was giving up on me.”
“That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard.”
We all look up and find Jack standing there, overhearing our conversation, almost looking hurt.
“What are you doing here?” Griffin asks him.
“I wanted to see how you guys were holding up. What’s this shit about you afraid of losing me?” Jack asks his boyfriend, the words sharp like an accusation.
“Can we talk about this later?” Griffin whispers. He stands up to keep their lovers' quarrel closed off.
“You seem to have no problem talking about it to your friends.” Jack doesn’t modify his volume at all. “You think I was going to dump you because of a bar crawl?”
“I hate staying out late.”
“No shit. This isn’t some big revelation, Griffin. I can go out with my friends and stay in with you. It’s not an either-or sitch. You don’t need to pretend to be someone you’re very obviously not.”
I can’t help but feel a dig in my chest, as if he’s talking directly to me.
“I know who you are, and I still love you.” Jack rubs Griffin’s chest, his hard glare quickly turning to sweetness. “I like being able to come home to you.”
I find Hank’s hand and give it a squeeze, trying to hold onto this feeling for as long as I can.
“I never want you to feel like you’re missing out on anything,” Griffin says.
“I’m not.” Jack lifts up on his toes to kiss Griffin. He brushes a thumb over his beard. In this whole, busy bar, I can feel the world disappear around them for a second.
“So you’re saying I got a hangover for nothing?” Des asks.
“I’m sorry, guys.” Griffin hangs his head, yet he’s grinning ear to ear as he pulls Jack to him. “I promise I’ll never make us do a bar crawl again.”
“I’ll toast to that!” Bill raises his glass of water. We join him, our glasses meeting in the center of the table in one loud, cacophonous clink. Despite feeling the high of camaraderie, I can’t help but let sorrow sneak in; in a few weeks, this will all be a memory. No more group of friends.
The buzz of my phone breaks through the din of celebration.
Agnes: Do you have a brief moment?
“You’re a popular guy,” Bill says.
“Is everything okay?” Hank asks, rubbing my leg.
“Uh, yes. I mean, yeah.” I snap my phone shut, terrified of my two worlds colliding. I get up from the table. “Excuse me. I just need to make a quick call.”
I walk over to the large windows overlooking the river, a fresh coat of snow on the trees. It’s quiet here, no bar patrons to disturb me. I turn my back to my friends’ table in case any of them can read lips.
I dial Agnes.
“Your Highness,” she says in her familiar stern yet pleasant tone.
“Please call me Nick.”
“Sorry. Nick…”
“Is everything alright?” Panic rises in my throat.
“Yes, Your—I mean, Nick. Sorry, old habits. I haven’t heard from you in a few weeks, and I wanted to make sure you’re alright.
” There’s a soft hitch in her voice, one reminiscent of a mother wondering after her child rather than a secretary inquiring about her boss.
For the past thirty-six years, she’s always known where I was and what I was up to.
Me being in Sourwood must be as jarring for her as it is for me.
“I’m great, Agnes. I apologize. I should’ve given you a status update earlier.” I glance over at Hank. “I’m very much enjoying myself.”
“What have you been up to?”
Where to start? “I went tubing. I joined a hockey team. I went to a bar crawl and won an award.”
I can practically hear Agnes’s eyes bulging from her sockets. Smartly, I refrain from telling her that I also got my ass drilled like a construction site.
“Don’t worry. I haven’t been found out. I’m staying safe and not doing anything illegal.”
“What’s a bar crawl?” she asks.
“You visit twelve bars one right after the other, each bar serving a different themed drink. We didn’t want to go, but my friend Griffin made us so that he could show his boyfriend Jack that he’s not too old to party. We proceeded to drink too much and get hangovers.”
Jesus. My life sounds like an episode of Friends. Better than Friends because there are gay people involved.
A faint chuckle comes through on the other end of the call.
“I hate hangovers. Gin will have me making love to the porcelain prince. And they only get worse as you get older,” says Agnes—yes, that Agnes.
My brain literally cannot imagine Agnes being drunk, let alone barfing into a toilet because of it.
“I didn’t start working for you until I was thirty,” she says. “I was very different in my twenties.”
We devolve into laughter, like two girlfriends gossiping about boys. I always suspected Agnes had a bit of a wild side tucked away in there.
“It seems you’re having a good time there.”
“I am.” I turn my attention to my teammates, my friends, engrossed in conversation punctuated with laughter. I am home. I feel it in my gut. “Has the king said anything about my absence?”
“He’s been focused on other things.” Her voice hitches for a moment, giving me pause.
She continues before I can follow up. “I cancelled all of your December events and reworked your schedule for January, so there’ve been very little bumps with you gone.
Aside from attending the ceremonial tree lighting and judging the national Christmas bake-off, you aren’t missing much. ”
“I do love judging the bake-off.” I gain at least five pounds, but the cakes and cookies I get to eat are worth the tighter clothes.
“I can set up a bakery tour when you get back.” She then lists out meetings scheduled for next month. Dinner with the Dutch ambassador. Attending the World Economic Forum. Board meetings for various charities. Reality begins pushing in. My royal life is waiting for me. I blink hard to push it away.
“Thank you for everything. I am sorry if this has been a taxing time for you. Please know how appreciative I am.”
I may joke about Agnes’s strict schedule, but I’m grateful to have her by my side. The woman should be running a multi-national corporation. I wouldn’t have been able to live this fake life without her support.
“You needed this. I get so bogged down with keeping your affairs in order that I rarely stop to wonder what it’s like to be you, the challenges of living such a public life.” A maternal warmth coats her words.
“What have you been up to?” I ask her.
“Inspired by you, I went on a blind date.”
“Did you really?”
“It was all going swell, until he said I reminded him of his mother. And immediately after, he tried to kiss me. As they say in America: hard pass.”
Agnes rarely talks about her personal life, and I’ve never heard her mention a dating life.
I know she never married or had kids. I wonder what she sacrificed to take care of me all these years.
Hopefully, this is the start of a dating renaissance for her.
I can live vicariously through her when I return to Ardenia since I won’t be able to live this openly.
“Have you met any gentlemen?” she asks.
“Actually, I have. He’s funny, and cute, and just…everything. It’s better than I could have even imagined.” Joy doesn’t fill my chest when I say that, even though it’s true. There’s an expiration date and a huge lie between me and Hank.
“I’m happy for you, Your Highness. Nick. A fun diversion before diving back into royal duties.”
Right. This is supposed to be a temporary fling. Come January, I will be Prince Nicholas again. No dudes allowed.
“You sound like you’re someplace fun, so I will let you go.”
“Thank you for everything, Agnes. I mean it. I’ll see you soon.”
“Same. And Your Highness,” she says before I hang up, “enjoy your gentleman.”
My heart swells as I check out Hank. I can’t remember a time when looking at someone felt like this—like warmth sinking deep into my bones, like something in the universe finally clicking into place.
I let myself stare, taking in the curve of his smile, the way his eyes drift over the room and then land on me like they always do.
For once, I’m not reaching for something out of grasp.
I have it. I have him. And I’m so, so happy.
Too bad our cutest couple status is set to end soon. But dammit, I’m going to make the most of every day together.
I return to the table and throw my arms around him.
“Hey.” I lean down and kiss him.
“So this is a thing now?” Bill asks.
“I think it is.” Hank’s full face crinkles with his grin. The guys all beam with approval.
“Love it,” Bill says matter-of-factly. “But remember: keep it out of the locker room.”