It’s another day later—maybe two—when Nate drives me back home from the date with Mariana Moretti. As the streets of Sainthall roll by outside my window, an image of Jessica, riding through these same streets—in what, a taxi? It must have been a taxi, I guess—pops into my head, accompanied by a fresh jolt of pain.

I’ve spent the last two hours sitting across from Mariana Moretti at the Diamond Circle, smiling like nothing is wrong and listening to her speak rapidly in her charming accent about a wide variety of topics ranging from Italian politics to possible vacation spots in Saintland to Black Mirror, a television show that’s apparently sweeping all of Europe up into a fan frenzy. I’ve never heard of it, but that doesn’t mean anything. I didn’t watch a lot of TV before I became crown prince—I prefer movies—but now that I have so many other things to do, I hardly have downtime for anything else, much less watching TV.

That’s not what occupied my mind all through dinner.

It was all I could do not to completely lose myself in endless comparisons between Mariana and Jessica.

They’re nothing alike. The glint of light on Mariana’s dark hair made me think of how Jessica’s auburn hair would shine in that same light. The way she laughed, high-pitched and pure, made me think of the way Jessica’s voice pitched low when she was hot for me, her panties already soaked…

I run a hand through my hair and try—for the millionth time since she left—to push her out of my mind.

“That could have gone significantly worse,” I say while we’re waiting at a stoplight.

“What could have?”

“The date with Mariana.”

“Oh?” Nate’s voice is carefully neutral. He’s waiting to hear what I think of the situation.

“I’ll talk to my father about it. It’s possible that a longer-term arrangement could be very beneficial for—.”

Nate interrupts me with a deep sigh, and I stop speaking abruptly. We’re old friends, but Nate strives for professionalism.

“Something bothering you?” I say. Did I miss something that happened in traffic? It’s not particularly heavy this evening.

“Listen to you,” Nate says, not taking his eyes from the road. “‘A longer-term arrangement?’ Alec, that’s not you.”

“Oh?” I say, bristling, letting a hint of irritation underscore the word.

“No,” Nate says, his voice calm and even. He’s not bothering to take the bait, and since I can feel my old habits slipping back, I press my lips together and wait to hear what he says. “And you know it, your highness. You’ve become your brother, and I don’t think that’s a good thing.”

“My brother was excellent at what he did.” At the mention of Marcus, my heart jerks painfully in my chest, but I swallow the pain away and resolve again not to lash out at my best friend in the entire world.

“Your brother was a deeply unhappy man,” Nate says, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter, his knuckles turning white. “You must have known that. God knows everyone else did.”

“I’m doing what’s best, Nate.”

“Best for who?”

“Saintland first, obviously. What other choice do I have now that I’m crown prince?” And now that Jessica is gone, I remind myself, a lump rising in my throat.

“First off, you could choose to go get her any time. You chose to flee the country in the first place, remember?”

“I can’t do that, and you know it.”

“What good is it,” Nate says, running a hand over his hair, “of doing any of this if you’re going to be a shell of yourself?”

“I’m not—.”

He cuts me off again. “You are. And what’s more, it doesn’t have to be like this. Things got hard when your brother died, I know it. We all know it. And I get it.” Nate’s sister Natalie died when we were seventeen. “I also know that she was the one person you wanted to see at the end of every day. You didn’t have to say it. Everyone in the palace knew that you were always going to her, always wanting to be with her. It was clear as day to everybody, Alec. Everybody. And you can’t ignore the fact that you’re the one who brought her here in the first place, despite the risk, and I think you knew that it was a bigger risk than you let on.”

As Nate speaks, something bursts alive in me, somewhere deep in my core, firing an electric energy down my spine.

He’s right.

But what can I do about it now?

I’m the one who fought with her, dismissed her ideas, told her she needed to find a different man. How am I supposed to take all that back?

There is no taking it back. That’s the answer in all of it. There is no undoing what I said. There’s only replacing it with something else.

I have no idea how I’m supposed to go about doing that.

“She’s back in New York, Nate.”

I see him roll his eyes in the rearview mirror. “Again, that didn’t stop you from meeting her in the first place.”

“My schedule—.”

“Are you a crown prince or not?”

“That’s exactly why—.”

Nate pulls the car around in front of Sainthall Palace and shifts it into park before he throws an arm over the seat and turns to look back at me.

“I’m only going to bring this up one more time. Your brother—he let this job eat him alive. If you want something to change, you’ll be the one to change it. The Alec I know would never let something as small as a schedule keep him away from the love of his life.”

My heart pounds against my ribcage. I look at Nate for a long moment in silence, and then he salutes me and opens his door, coming around to open mine. Protocol.

His words thunder in my head as I walk across the terrace to the palace entrance, my mind racing, phone already in hand, plans already in the works. Getting back to her is my only choice. Because…

“The love of his life. The love of his life. The love of his life.” Nate’s words echo in my head. And in my heart.

Jessica is the love of my life.