Twenty minutes later Royce and I are all set.

I’m squeezed into the red skirt that is one size too small and three shades too shiny. If shiny can have shades, that is.

I’m wearing the skirt with the waist belt undone, and I’ve fixed it so no one will see. That’s because the white shirt is like four or five sizes too big.

I’ve solved all of the problems by taking the tight, white, laced trimmed undershirt I wore on the plane yesterday, and made the too-big shirt into what I hope looks like a ‘boyfriend’ shirt. I’ve kept it mostly unbuttoned down the front, yet have left the bottom closed in just the right spot to hide the open button. It also hides most of the horrible skirt. Bonus!

I’d added only one necklace instead of the four I was supposed to wear all at once, then picked one bracelet and ignored all but one of these ten-or-so, odd, fabric friendship bracelets Clara was going to have me wear.

I also didn’t go for the giant dangling earrings she’d sent along, because they sort of looked like Mercedes Benz hood ornaments. Because of that, I’m going without earrings.

I’ve managed to find the brush Clare mentioned and use it, as well as, I’ve applied some of the makeup.

Based on the way Royce stared too long when he came out of the bathroom, then stalked away kind of fast after I asked him, how I looked, while muttering, “Absolutely perfect,” I think I did okay, but it’s hard to know for sure if Royce isn’t just being nice about how I look, like he always is.

When he comes back out of the bathroom again, saying something about how he’d forgotten to brush his teeth, I’ve just squeezed into the heels sent up to match the outfit—the three inch hooker stilettos, that I think have already made my toes bleed.

“Ready?” He asks, eyeing the shoes.

“Yep.” I answer, lying because I know the clothing cart is the only thing keeping me upright and I’m not ready, or capable of walking in heels like these, but I don’t want him to know it. “Totally ready,” I add, starting to pray to God for some assistance.

He glances at the door then back at me, but doesn’t move an inch in any direction.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, deciding that if he doesn’t move, I don’t move.

“I don’t want to go out there. I feel like if we do, this cool time we’ve had hiding out up here will not be recreated. Which is why I’ve been thinking…about your bucket list, about tons of things actually.”

Happy for the excuse that is keeping me from shaming myself in these shoes, I ask, “Okay…and what have you been thinking?”

“That we should pull an Adam-move.”

“An Adam-move?”

“We should run away for a couple of days. Together.” His silver-blue eyes have started twinkling.

“What? How? Why?”

He moves to sit on the edge of the bed, facing me. “There’s no way I can show you the stuff on that list I want to show you, if you and I don’t do it while hiding out. I thought we could get disguises and do it, and then I thought we could try to run away and see some of it fast, waiting for the fans to catch up to us and force us to go back to the hotel, but then I thought let’s do all three. Let’s go all out and really hide and really see some stuff together. Just for a couple of days, what do you say? Could we? At least could we… try to do what Adam did so many times?”

I shake my head once, and then when I realize he’s sincere, I grin and answer, “I’m up for trying it. Sure.”

He frowns, cocking his head to the side. “The face you’re making tells me you think I’m insane. It’s a good idea. We have this whole week off to explore, and I don’t want to do it with the whole world staring at us like we’re under a microscope. Today made me realize I hardly know the real you at all, but that I like what I’m getting to know.”

My heart flutters up to my throat as a flood of embarrassment mixed with pleasure has me answering quietly, “Well…back at you, and…thanks.”

He grins, eyes tracking my flushed cheeks. “Today also made me realize I want to get to know you for real—but like not just in stops and starts how we’re forced to interact. I want to have a few days away with you. With us. Being…us.” He pauses, looking over at me with doubt crossing his features. “If you want to, I mean. Do you? Would you want to…know me better, too? Without all of the entourage, and fame, and fans, and running from thing to thing going on? Without all of the…noise that’s always around us? We could be just two normal friends, hanging out being regular tourists.”

Goosebumps of excitement start trickling down my spine “Yes. I think that would be really cool. I’ve got such experience at being a nobody. I could show you how to do it well. I’m also good at running away, if you didn’t notice how we met,” I add in, joking.

I smile when he laughs, his expression happy, elated even. And…this makes me wonder.

Is he relieved that I said, ‘yes’ to this idea? Does he really want to have days alone with me?

Quickly, before the silence hanging between us stretches to awkward instead of awesome, I add in a smile. “Running away could help the whole fake-relationship. We would have a couple of days to just…be real with each other and solidify our…close…close…uh…” I flick him a glance, but he’s looking away from me, as I finish with, “friendship.” I nod, but still, he won’t look up. “Considering I think that’s the direction we’re both going here, right?”

“Yes. Right.” He pulls out his phone. “Going to text Adam to call me so I can ask his advice. That guy hid out with Evie for nearly a year. He will be able to tell me how to hide for a couple of days, right?”

I blink. “Adam’s not here in the hotel?”

“Oh. No. He left with Evie and the baby right after the concert last night. They were driven to her parent’s place in Wales. It’s about a six hour drive from here. They’re spending the week off making the baby’s grandparents happy, but they’ll meet us in Paris.”

“Ah.” I nod, watching his fingers zoom over his screen as he fires off a string of texts.

When there’s no immediate response from Adam, he pockets his phone and grins. “He’ll get back to me. In the meantime. Let’s quickly pack some stuff.”

“Pack?” I frown, nearly toppling off the clothes rack with my surprise. “You mean run away now? Today? As in…after the press conference?”

“Yes.” He grabs his messenger bag and dumps out a load of books and his computer, shoving that into the safe, pausing to give me an impish smile. “Hell yes. You down? This has to be easier than doing a whole wedding in one night, right?”

His grin is so contagious, I have to grin back. “Why not?” When he’s not looking, I save face and manage to teeter over to the spot he’d just vacated on the bed and kick off the stupid stilettos so I can dash around packing my stuff without wearing them. “Hmm.” I mutter, glancing around the room. “I don’t have a lot of options for alternative outfits, because I haven’t sent for my luggage yet, but I have leggings and my grey pajama hoodie.” I hold it up.

He snorts, giving the hoodie a look I can’t quite read. “Bring that thing for sure. It’s necessary, right?” He clears his throat. “Because the UK can be cold.”

“Very.” I laugh at his odd expression, grabbing up the shirt I’d worn on the airplane yesterday along with my black leggings.

“Let’s just take the basics, and then we will try to stop and buy some clothes along the way, okay? Adam will, again, tell me how to do that.” Royce dashes to the bathroom then comes back saying, “I’ve got your toothbrush and little make-up bag thing in here.” He slings it onto his shoulder, then checks how it looks in the mirror. “Does this seem too over-stuffed?”

“Looks fine. What about my designer mega-purse? Too obviously over loaded?” I hold up this horrible, giant, rectangular, hell-purse that Clara had sent up. Red to match the outfit. Bad red, plus shiny, times two. I had meant to leave it hanging on the cart with a big ‘no thanks’ note attached to it, but like Royce has done with his bag, I’ve now slung it on my shoulder. I’m standing at the mirror with him, squishing down the sides of it.

“That purse is…wild.” He gives it a look like he’s as afraid of it as I am. “It’s a wonder.”

“Yes it is. We will need to ditch it as soon as possible,” I laugh, cracking open the top, checking to make sure the hoodie is tucked in, and hasn’t shifted. That hoodie is hiding Royce’s plain canvas VANS and my flat sandals, as well as a wrapped up change of underwear for both of us.

His and mine. Shoes and underwear. Blush.

“These bags all for the ‘just in case’ scenarios. Because honestly, depending on how the crowds act downstairs, and depending on who spots us as we try to make our escape, we could be back here in two hours.” He runs a hand through his hair, grinning even wider, “But maybe not, right?”

His phone starts buzzing in his pocket and his eyes go more gleaming bright as he lifts it out and gives it a look. “Adam. He’s got tips for us.”

He moves in close so I can read along with him: First. You need to change or hide your hair drastically. And do it within minutes of the press appearance for it to work, because people will post live what you are wearing top to bottom. I’ve shaved my head, I’ve dyed my hair, I’ve put on ski caps, hats. Whatever. Robin’s hair is going to be the most difficult to hide.

“I’ll go from hair down like it is now, and swap it up high, into a bun or something. Do you think he means I should change the color?”

“Over my dead body. I love your hair color. Not allowed.”

“Okay. Okay. Fine. Maybe that’s too extreme.”

“We will both get hats, or…something…” he’s saying as I nod, heading back into the bathroom to grab some hair ties and the brush.

When I get back, I see that Royce has pulled a beanie out of his closet. “Just in case we can’t find anything else?”

We shove it, and the hair ties and brush into my purse just under the hoodie, as well as Royce’s phone dings again.

Grinning, Royce reads it out loud. “Second: I’m sure you thought to bring sunglasses. Remember you need any little thing like that as you go from point A to point B. And then at point B, do a full costume change en-route or the final destination—point C. That’s how I did it. A. B. C. Run, get to a staging spot, change more as needed, then have extra outfits in case you have to change again. Got me?”

Royce frowns handing me his sunglasses to put in the purse next to the ones I’ve just fished out of my carry on backpack from yesterday. “Maybe we won’t be so good at this.” Royce frowns more, swallowing hard. “I forgot the easiest most obvious thing to bring along. Sunglasses are textbook. Level one kind of shit, and I forgot them. Is this a bad idea?” His eyes have lost their silver-sparkle and are now leaden with worry. “It could be dangerous.”

“We’re fine. It’s a great idea. What else does he say?” I ask, smiling at how his face is so very cute when he’s worried like this.

Royce comes close again so we can both read the next texts together: Third: Tell me and only me exactly where you are going should you need someone to create an exit plan. You need one safe person to know. Besides, I’ll cover for you. Hell, how about once they realize you’ve disappeared, we can hatch a story that you came to see me in Wales. That will buy you a day. Then, if someone catches on, I’ll tell them you never arrived in Wales. That should spin people all over the place in opposite directions for at least one more day. As long as the fans don’t spot you, you’ll be golden.

Quickly Royce texts back: Thanks dude. Will do. I’m formulating my final destination—C plan as you call it—right now.” I shoot him a questioning glance while he finishes texting Adam with: Will keep you updated. In the meantime, prepare for my grandmother to call you wondering if you know where we went.

We read Adam’s reply: Awesome. Be careful. It’s not as easy as I made it look when I did it.

Royce answers, giving me a wink: Dude. You never make anything look easy.

Adam’s answer to that insult? Whatever. Good thing you’re already married. But…don’t you two come home with a baby like we did. Or else.

Royce laughs. Then he types: F-you. ;)

* * *

Royce’s last words to me before we left the room for the publicity appearance were, “Follow my lead and whatever happens, you just play along, okay? I’m trying to surprise you with what I have planned, but I also want you to be safe and to feel comfortable.” He’d grabbed my hand and looked into my eyes. “If you find this stressful instead of fun, you can abort the running away at any time, okay?”

He’d surveyed me top to bottom, then as he watched me put the stupid stilettos, he’d added in a low whistle, “Damn. That red skirt is short, isn’t it? You look amazing in it, but…holy shit I think this is the first time you actually don’t look eighteen anymore.”

“Credit to Clara’s styling expertise,” I say, leaving off the part where I want to tell him how much I hate the skirt as much as the heels.

I also want to condemn this purse as absolute ‘garbage’ because I saw it came with a $5,000 price tag inside of it, but because it’s become our escape bag, I kind of love it now. Because we’re in a hurry and because it doesn’t really matter what they make me wear, I say what I think needs to be said, “Clara and her mom know what’s in fashion. And clearly, I don’t because I’d never wear any of this.” I shrug. “I only want to look like you and I somehow…match. Like a rockstar wife should look, or whatever. I’m glad you approve of the look though because it really helps to know you like what I have on, because these press things freak me out, you know?”

“I never said I liked the outfit.” Royce pulls a face. “I thought you had directed them. Told them what you did like because that’s what me and the guys do.” I shrug, tugging at the skirt and staring at the tips of the shoes. “Robin. I don’t want you wearing what you don’t like. You’re so beautiful and you have your own kind of ‘cool style’. You could stand next to me in a cardboard box and look like you matched me.”

I shrug, still looking away. “Well. Beyond jeans, shorts and hoodies I don’t know what I like in the world of Haute Couture that you all wear, so…maybe what they give me is not what I would choose but it’s cool. Like…I don’t mind.”

He frowns. “Shit. I guess I take all of this for granted, don’t I?”

I nod. “Look. I don’t know how to choose the clothes that belong in your world.” I motion to the outfit. “This buys me some time while I learn despite how whack-ugly this skirt and purse seem to be, maybe they’re straight off the runway, right?”

“Probably.” Royce laughs. “But if it’s not cool with you I can call Clara and ask for her to send something different?”

“Please don’t call her back up here.” He laughs as I roll my eyes, tugging at the skirt again, adding, “I won’t wear this for very long. You say we’re changing straight away, right? So I’m good.”

He nods, scanning my face doubtfully, while reaching out to grab a long lock of my hair, running his finger down the length of it until it pauses at the hair’s tips and we both watch as it curls around his finger. “If it’s okay, I’m going to at least beg a change of shoes for you. Those don’t look good for running away. I also noticed you can’t walk in them.”

“They’re really tight,” I lie, not admitting that I’m not able to handle myself in heels. “I have the sandals in my bag already, and one pair of black VANS I brought on the flight yesterday. They’ve got a white stripe and they might match this look just fine.”

“Hell yes. Do it. I think you’ll need the VANS for what I have planned, anyhow.”

“What do you have planned?” I try to distract him but he reaches out to offer a steadying arm while I kick the shoes off, frowning again at how red and pinched my toes were in those shoes.

When the VANS are on, his smile is approving. “Okay. Now I feel like you’re half safe—like you could at least run if you needed to. But I’m still worried. You don’t know how bad it can be out there.” He jerks a thumb at the window. “Stalkers, fans, crowds, cameras pointed at you, dangerous mobs chasing you in the street.”

“Come on. It’s only people, after all. Worst case, if we’re spotted, we’ll stop, you sign autographs, and we will both make some new friends. Come on now. Try not to worry so much.”

He’d laughed and escorted me out into the hallway, saying. “That, little wife, is an impossible request.”

* * *

Somehow, while I was packing and changing shoes, Royce had convinced Hunter and Vere to come down and meet us at the press event. Their job was to add some distractions so the eyes wouldn’t all be trained only on me and Royce.

While I was being interviewed, Vere was right there with me, and Royce had stepped away to tell the entourage that the four of us had planned to circle around London on a ‘driving tour’ after the press event.

Then when it was Royce’s turn to be interviewed, Hunter was with him. They’d told everyone in the room exactly what we were going to do and see today. As in, Royce told everyone with a smile we were going to maybe go see the Tower of London together. That, or possibly catch a musical.

I’d smiled happily and agreed while he’d said that, as did Vere and Hunter. It was easy for me to tell that he was lying, but the press bought into all of it.

As the press conference ended, and the four of us entered the limo, Royce paused to whisper something to Hunter and then to Vere.

Whatever he’d said had made Vere color bright red and throw me a huge smile. She gave me one fast thumbs up while we buckled in, which told me that he’d informed them about how we’d planned to run.

So much for telling only one safe person. Royce now had informed three safe people, Hunter, Vere and Adam. But I figure that’s okay, considering they’re all safer than safe.

Hunter, who was frowning and acting more worried than Royce usually did, shook his head then reached into his pocket, quickly pulling out his wallet and passing Royce a huge wad of cash. Then he leaned over to whisper something to Vere who then opened her purse and handed over every bit of cash she was also carrying.

Royce pocketed it with a only a nod, then pulled out his phone, scooting over to me so we could both read Adam’s latest text: Do not use any sort of credit cards. Cash only.

“Ahh,” I say, nodding with understanding. “Very good idea.”

Royce snorts. “My second fail after sunglasses.” He shakes his head at me. “This is stuff I should know like breathing.”

Royce glances up as the driver enters the limo but thankfully the guy has his eyes only on pulling out of the hotel parking area.

Royce tosses me a little excited look as he activates the car-intercom system once we’re safely on to a street. “Sir, excuse me, they told you we were touring around, yes?

“Yes, sir. They did. Whot-do-ye-ken viewing first?”

My brows shoot up and I grin ear to ear, squeaking out, “Scottish. A real Scottish accent.”

This makes Vere crack up and I see the driver smiling at me through the mirror as Royce answers all cool and collected, “Could you drive us past the big flea market place? We’d love to see what that looks like.”

“Sir, there’s more-than-the-one. For touring, most of ye-Yanks go to Greenwich Market. Tis-a World Heritage spot. Verra-pretty.”

My eyes grow wide and I nearly die smiling at how he’s drawled out the r’s in the word heritage, but then nearly gobbled up the last syllable of that word and the word ‘very’ into his throat. I shove my hand over my grin so I don’t shout out more about how cute I find his accent again.

“Greenwich Market, it is, then.” Royce turns off the intercom and leans back, acting all calm. Vere, Hunter and I follow suit, but because I have tourist-issues I shout out and point: “Red phone booth! Holy cow. Black cab! Anyone see the Prince of Wales, or the Queen, you let me know.”

They all laugh at me again, and Royce gives me this look I can’t decipher, but it’s warm and makes my belly churn because his eyes seem to be alight with laughter or admiration…or something, but I get that he’s trying to hold back.

Hunter, after a long moment finally whispers, “Dude, are you sure this is a good idea? I mean, really. The flea market might not be the best launching point. Maybe Vere and I could come along with you? Just in case you need back up?”

‘You’d draw too much attention.” Royce shakes his head. “I want you to stay in the limo, then return to the hotel and make some sort of second appearance to cover for us, and then spin some story to Gregory and Mrs. Felix as well as any of the entourage or bodyguards who will be flipping out when we don’t come back with you? Robin and I have never really been alone together—and I mean alone-alone. Minus the circus that follows us all around. I want a chance to get to know my wife how you got to know Vere, and how Adam got to know Evie. Even if it’s just for one day or two, I want what you two had.”

“One or two days? Where? Wow. How romantic.” Vere leans forward, locking her eyes onto mine in this way that makes me feel guilty and blush all at the same time.

“Nothing’s romantic,” Hunter protests. “She’s your fake wife. Not even your girlfriend.” Hunter grits out, then glowers between us. “So…you already don’t have what me and Vere have or what Adam and Evie have. Unless…” He flicks me a worried, rather stressed-out look. “Unless. Dude. What the hell, because I thought you promised. Double promised.”

“I did!” Royce sighs out, sounding both frustrated and embarrassed. “We’re friends, Hunter. That’s all. We’re trying to make this.” He makes fake quote marks out of his fingers before continuing, “relationship work. We can’t do it well if we’re not better friends and we think this will fast track that.”

“Robin. Do you agree?” Hunter looks at me like I’ve grown two heads.

Before I can answer, Royce gives him a shove, his shoulders going as taut as his expression. “Dude. You’re not my dad. And what the hell? I don’t need this shit from you, too. I’ve already got my grandmother and Gregory living in that space.”

Suddenly my cheeks are burning so hot, I don’t know what to think or how to answer so I only nod.

“Hunter.” Vere pipes in. “What’s your problem? Why do you just keep staring at them? I think it’s a good idea.”

Hunter shakes his head. “I guess I wanted to remember Robin and Royce, and this moment—the very moment the girl next door stole away Royce’s—”

Royce punches him in the arm. “Shut up, would you? No one’s stolen anything. We’re having a tourist-adventure. We’re making friends. Nothing else.”

“Yeah,” I finally choke out my response, relieved that Hunter didn’t finish that sentence. Because what would he have said? Stolen Royce’s Sanity? Mind?

“Which reminds me. Vere, do you happen to have some of those make-up remover wipes in your bag? I wanted to take this gunk off my face. Look less…obviously…pretty.”

“As if that’s possible,” Royce laughs out, making my cheeks go hot again while, drawing another odd look and a whole bunch of head shakes from Hunter.

“Of course I do.” Vere pulls out a flat package of Aloe loaded wipes. “And Royce is right, I’m not sure if you’re more beautiful with makeup, or without. Either way, this pretty face of yours…” She’s pulled out one wipe and is quickly wiping off my cat’s eyes eyeliner. “It does draw attention.”

I shake my head at their compliments. “Well, I’m more comfortable without.”

Royce has handed me the bag with the change of clothes and on turning back he’s punched Hunter hard in the arm while saying, “Turn away, jackass. She’s changing into leggings.”

With Vere making this face like she’s about to crack up laughing, I quickly scoot the leggings up first, then peel the offensive skirt down and off. I decide to keep the white shirt as is, buttoned up and hanging long for under the hoodie.

“You all can turn back now,” I say, shoving my head through the top of the giant hoodie.

I hand Royce his VANS so he can change out of his shoes, while Vere hides my rejected skirt into her purse, then shoves Royce’s leather shoes into her bag as well.

Royce folded the soft suit jacket, and I tucked it into the spot vacated by the hoodie for ‘just in case it gets cold in the evening’ as he pulled on his beanie cap and dragged it down low over his forehead.

In silence, everyone watched me part my hair down the back and pull both sides of my curls into two, small, tight buns at the base of my neck.

When I was done, Vere grinned, saying, “Wow. Those are so cute. I’m stealing that hairstyle. You look adorable.”

“But do I look completely different?” I whisper.

Shaking his head Royce passes my sunglasses saying, “If this is you trying not to stand out, we’re in big trouble. I think we’re going to need to get you a hat as well.”

I point up at his beanie and toss him his own pair of sunglasses. “Well you picked a beanie color that makes your eyes even more beautiful and bright then the black hair peeking out does. No one is going to be looking at me if I’m standing next to you, anyhow. It’s possible we both need way better disguises.”

“Hell yes you do. And fast.” Hunter’s still shaking his head at Royce but says to me, “Take care of him, will you, Robin? Guy is not street smart.”

“I will. You know I will.”

Hunter nods, adding, “That’s the only reason I’m letting him leave the limo with what I think is a very bad idea. Gregory and Mrs. Felix are going to freak.”

“We should be allowed to go and do and see what we want, right? Be free for a little while?” Royce’s grin turns into a defiant glare.

“Yes. You should. But what about your biggest fear? That Robin might get—”

“My new biggest fear is that Robin might not get to see what she wants to see in and around London. And then I’m even more afraid she won’t get to see what she wants to see in Paris. Meaning as a normal person, not like a prisoner or like a goldfish in a bowl, how we all live. I want to try this.”

“Wait.” Hunter crosses his arms. “You can’t be saying that you mean to do this on all of our other European stops.”

Royce shrugs. “If this works, why not. One city at a time, right?”

“Uh. Royce. Please no. Once is okay, but like…only once.”

Before he could say more, Vere interrupted, “Aww. It’s so cute. I know it’s going to work.”

“Vere, you would say that, because you think you are going to win the lottery every time you buy a ticket.” Hunter picks up her hand and gives it a squeeze.

“Are you saying I’m not going to win the lottery?” Vere pulls a face.

Hunter shakes his head, sighing out, loud and long while Vere claps her hands, her sparkling brown eyes going wide and soft as she adds. “Does this mean we get to make an appearance at the Tower of London, to greet the fans that I’m sure are gathering there to meet all four of us?”

Hunter sighs out. “Oh, hell. Speaking of our hellish life inside of a fishbowl. I must love you dude, because the shit I do to cover your ass. The Tower of London is going to be one long day for me.” He pulls out his phone and opens Instagram and shows us the crowds forming there all because Royce announced that we were going to be heading there.

Vere claps her hands again. “Not it’s not, it will be amazing. I’ve always wanted to see it.”

“Thank you both,” Royce whispers, eyeing the street outside the limo as it starts to slow.

The driver pipes in over the intercom. “Excuse me. Sir? We’re nearing the market, but it’s rather extensive. Do you have a particular spot you’d like me to stop?”

Royce leans toward the driver and pushed the intercom for the chauffeur. “Is there a portion of this flea market that sells clothing?”

“Yes sir. Many booths inside. The market opens just now, so it won’t be crowded. I know where to go.”

Royce grins. “Thank you. And if possible, when you park, could you be a ways down the road, and not get out of the car to open our door, okay? We’re trying to slip out and inside unnoticed.”

“Yes sir,” the chauffeur calls out again, pulling into a spot on a narrow side street. “It’s just up there.” He points ahead of where he’s parked. “You’ll see a white arch with capital letters spelling Greenwich Market on it.”

“Perfect spot.” Royce sits back, eyes gleaming with excitement as he looks out.

Hunter ducks to look out the windows, too, but eyes flashing with worry, as Royce continues, “I’ve got this app that says there’s a London tube entrance right near here. Hold on.” Royce opens the app. “Let me look up which trains connect to here.” After a moment he grins. “Well, heck yes. So many that will connect to larger stations. We’re good.”

“The tube? You can’t mean to be going on the London Tube in the middle of the day with no bodyguard and you mean to go to larger stations?” Hunter is almost shouting now.

“It’s not the middle of the day yet, it’s still morning. And, how about you don’t shout that out? Yes, we’re going on the tube, if all goes well on the tube, we’re going to ride a real train and we’re going eat fish and chips as well as see a castle today. One with a moat.”

I pull my hands up to my chest and half laugh. “Castle? Moat!”

“Oh, hell-no.” Hunter’s face has turned nearly purple. “Public transportation is not allowed. You know what happens.”

“Nothing is going to happen. Dude. Calm down.” Royce opens the door and jumps out, before holding up his hand to help me out. “Ready?”

Vere had leaned out and said in a rushed whisper, “Good luck, Robin. Call if you need us to get you an escape route.”