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“And if anyone starts publishing stories about you and the Prince, your whole career will be called into question.”
“I’m a hypocrite, Rhea.”
“You’re not. It’s perfectly possible to like a man while still wanting to change the politics of this country.”
“No one will see it that way.”
“Well, if no one’s published anything it’s because they have no proof. Don’t panic until you need to. Even then, let me do the panicking and you try to stay calm.”
I let out a humorless laugh, shaking my head. “This is so not like me.”
“When Annie told you to sleep with at least one available man while you were on tour, that is not what she meant.”
I snort, finally picking up a breadstick and crunching into it. The dry, crumbly texture is satisfying—oddly, more so than usual. I grab a second, then throw Rhea a glance. “At least I finally made use of those condoms you gave me. He wasn’t impressed by the googly eyes.”
Rhea, who had been reaching into her jacket pocket, freezes. Her head turns slowly, eyes crawling up to mine. There’s something in her face I don’t recognize. Fear, maybe? “You used the condoms I gave you last year?”
I nod. “Yeah. It was all I had. Why, they weren’t expired, were they?”
“Jazz, those weren’t actual legitimate condoms. They were from a gag gift store. The wrappers had massive cartoon penises on them with googly eyes for balls!”
“I… I don’t…” Frowning, I let her words sink in. “What…wait… I thought you put the googly eyes on.”
“Holy shit.” Her eyes widen as she stares at me, at the space where the prawns used to be, then her gaze drifts down to my stomach. She gulps, then waves a hand to the waiter.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting the bill.”
“Why?” My voice is so small. I’m afraid of what she’ll say. Afraid of what she realized.
She flashes a huge, false smile at the waiter. “Bill please, darling. We’ve been unexpectedly called away.”
As soon as the waiter leaves to get our bill, Rhea pulls her jacket on and follows him to the till. I trail behind like a lost puppy. “Rhea, you’re overreacting. It’s not… It’ll be fine!”
Panic burns at the edge of my voice, sending ash floating through my veins.
Rhea taps her card on the machine, waves off the offer of a receipt, and drags me out the door by my arm. “Get in my car. We’re going to the pharmacy and getting you a pregnancy test. Stat.”
24
Jazz
I don’t know what I’d do without Rhea. I’d probably be on one of those shows about women who go to the hospital for a stomach ache and end up giving birth, never knowing they were pregnant in the first place. Never admitting to themselves that they knew what was going on. I’d be living my life in denial for forty weeks.
Well, denial isn’t an option with Rhea. She puts me in her car, clicks my seatbelt into place like I’m a child, and commands me to sit tight. She drives to the nearest pharmacy, repeats her order for me not to move, then rushes inside.
It’s not until I’m peeing on the end of a pregnancy test and setting a timer to let it process that reality sets in. For those few minutes, a sort of fatalistic doom settles over me. I know what’s about to happen. I can feel it deep in my bones, in the little corner of my heart called female intuition. When my buzzer goes off and I look at the test, it’s no big shock to see that I’m pregnant.
Pregnant with the child of a prince. Pregnant with the child of the man I’ve denounced in my articles for years—maybe not him personally, but his family. What he represents. I’m carrying a child with royal blood, when I don’t believe in royalty at all.
Scanning my body as I stare at the test, I try to figure out what I feel. My heart thumps a bit harder than usual and my mouth feels dry. My vision is clear, but it’s hard to take a full breath. Panic? Not really. Excitement? A mix of both?
My emotions are dulled under the steady thumping in my chest. I can’t form full thoughts, and the only thing I can truly recognize is that this surprise is no surprise at all.
You know what is a surprise, though? When I walk out of the bathroom holding the test to show Rhea, and I see her standing in her living room, staring at her phone with a hand clapped over her mouth. Her eyes are wide when she looks at me, shock written all over her face. Shock and something else—outrage.
My arm hangs limply by my side, dangling the positive pregnancy test between my fingers. I take a step, then stop. “What?”
