We crept into the shadowy square between the buildings, looking for her secret rendezvous place. It was eerie being out in the courtyard in the dark like this, despite the odd straggler stumbling by with an even odder comment we didn’t understand. Drunken Scots were interesting.

But even the jovial people passing by us couldn’t calm my nerves. My stomach ached, probably trying to tell me this was a bad idea.

Mentally, I argued with myself that leaving Linna to meet Seamus alone in the dark courtyard was a worse idea. And being flirty didn’t mean I’d been suggestive. And there was no way it was going anywhere.

“There she is!” Seamus shouted, far too loudly from across the lawn. He staggered forward, admittedly less drunk but only marginally so.

“Shhhh.” Linna giggled and ran to him, grabbing his hand, leading him off into the shadows, leaving me with what I had to assume was the silhouette of Lucas, also across the grass.

Gulping, I followed Linna’s shadow with my gaze until I lost her and then wrapped my arms around myself to battle the chill in the air.

“My feelings aren’t hurt that you haven’t answered my message on Instagram yet. I think it’s three days before I’m supposed to get the hint that you don't want to say hi back and then I’m allowed to be crushed,” Lucas spoke as he crossed the moonlit grass to me.

“You sent me a message?” My stomachache amplified.

“Of course. I found you before I even introduced myself.” Those words worsened my nervousness. “That sounds creepy, doesn’t it? It’s not meant to. When I saw you with the lads, I knew you were trouble, maybe some sort of American celebrity. Thought I would check so I could warn my brother.” His voiced lowered, as he got closer, “And of course, I was right. You are trouble. American. Celebrity. Spoilt. Possibly narcissistic. Dating the Prince of Andorra, soon to be King of Andorra.” He winced. “That’s a tough act to follow as the son of a single mom and a good-for-nothing drunk of a father. Even my education doesn't touch his. I felt good about Cambridge before I read about him. Thought maybe I had a chance.”

“Oh, I don't know.” I took a step back. “Cambridge is quite a good school,” I offered cheekily, trying to lighten the fact he’d researched me. Though I couldn't force myself to believe Lucas was a threat of any sort. He was too cute to be crazy. “And I’m not narcissistic.”

“And I’m not oddly intrigued by the American girl so obviously confused about who she is that the photos on her Instagram feed scream intellect stifled by commonness.”

“Did you just call me common?” I laughed and hugged myself tighter.

“Let me show you.” He pulled out his phone and tapped the Instagram icon. My face popped up as the last thing he’d looked at. “Here we have a selfie, a drop in the bucket compared to the hundreds of them. But then we have this.” He tapped his phone going to my page and hit the flower photo I’d taken at the library in Ireland with a quote below it from Robert Frost. “And this.” He tapped a photo of Mahone Bay with the churches glistening on the water. “And then there’s this.” He tapped the picture of the squad back at Lakeside. Marbles and the girls. “You’re a conundrum. You act like you've got no interests in life beyond lattes, leggings, and lip gloss; the three American Ls. But the reality is you’re deeper than all that and hiding it, maybe on purpose.” He stared at me as he cracked an earnest smile. “The problem is anyone who looks long enough, sees it’s all an act.”

“Maybe I’m not hiding anything, maybe liking leggings, lattes, and lip gloss isn’t as telling as you think. Or maybe being common isn’t so bad.” I tilted my head, giving some good old American attitude. “Not all females who take selfies and like makeup and prefer to look pretty are shallow. Art is art. Whether it’s photography or selfies or a drawing, it’s something that catches the eye and is pleasing.” I tried to sound smart but the words were stolen from a friend’s rant two weeks ago. He was right, I was common.

“That’s weak, at best. And I didn't say you were shallow, maybe obsessed with your looks and making that one face over and over and over. But the elderly you’re clearly friends with and the prince, those are things I didn't expect. Plus the eye, being able to see a photograph before taking it, that’s a skill. I think you’re searching for who you are, and coming up short.”

“I’m eighteen, of course I’m in the middle of figuring myself out.”

“Eighteen.” He grimaced. “Jesus, I figured maybe twenty-two. Late to college. How can you possibly be dating a prince at eighteen? Did your dad strike the bargain with the king, one of those arrangements with spinning hay to make gold?”

“It’s a long story.” I changed the subject, “But if we’re going to analyze anyone, let’s start with you. You’re snobby compared to your brother. I’m guessing you hate where you’re from, and you’re so desperate to change your stars that the only reason you come back to Scotland at all is ‘cause your mom paid for school and you feel guilty leaving them all behind.” He flinched, making me pause, seeing something else. “Or wait. She didn't pay, did she? You’re a scholarship kid. A real giant nerd.” I grinned nodding, figuring him out. “Her two jobs were for something else, weren’t they? What is it?” I couldn't figure that out.

“You’re good.” He sighed and gave it up, “Dad’s ill. Jack doesn't know. He’s dying of liver disease, and she’s paying for extra care and his housing.” He admitted a painful truth to a complete stranger, ruining the smug game of “I can guess better than you.” “Well done. You are smarter than you look.”

“Asshole.” I gasped, desperate to recover from the painful secret he shared. “And even if you’re a jerk, I’m sorry about your dad and mom.”

“It’s okay. He’s been a drunk since I was a lad. What did he think would happen?” He sounded bitter but appeared broken.

Desperate for a different topic, I turned to where Linna had gone. “She’s okay with him, right?”

“Honestly, I’m far more worried about him. He’s a sweet boy. Doesn't actually drink much either. Really strict, religious parents.” He laughed and walked to the bench under the dark and leafless tree. “I told him fifteen minutes and I was taking him back to the hotel. Since we have about twelve minutes left, explain the prince”—he patted the bench next to him—“because that’s madness.”

“Fine.” Groaning and freezing, I forced myself over and sat, wincing at the cold of it. I didn’t want to tell the story, but I also hated that we came off as insane, me dating a prince. The story was innocent and I wasn’t some money-grubbing soul sucker. “We met at the retirement community.” I hesitated, realizing I needed to go back further. “Jess, the sexy puppy, she’s my stepsister. Her mom, my stepmom, hates me, always has.”

“Your stepmom hates you?” He lifted a dark eyebrow, and I tried to ignore the way his eyes sparkled in the dim light or the depth of his stare. “This story is getting to be eerily like Cinderella.” He sounded skeptical.

“I know. Bear with me. Anyway, she never liked me.”

“And your father never interfered?”

“No. He took her side. I didn't make it easy for him to choose my side.” That was painful to admit. “So one night I was partying and she framed me, drugged me, and I fell into a rosebush. She told my dad I’d tried to hurt myself.” I kept Linna out of the story. Adding her furthered the complications and made for a longer explanation. “My dad sent me to Nova Scotia, to my aunt’s house. Aunt Hattie. She works at the retirement community and made me work there too. Aiden was there with his aunt and uncle, who were old and dying.”

“And the rest is history?”

“No, it’s friggin’ drawn out as hell and boring.”

“Did you know he was the Prince of Andorra?”

“No.” I laughed. “I didn’t even know Andorra was a country. How did you find my Insta so fast?”

“Face recognition. I took a photo and searched the internet for you. I was sure you were a celeb of some sort. I did figure actress.”

“Creepy.” I feigned offense, but it was actually genius, and I would be adding it to my arsenal of internet stalking tools.

“Indeed. Terribly creepy.” He stared so intently I blushed from nothing more than his gaze. “And yet I’m not sorry at all.”

“Well, you should be,” I said, barely getting my words out. I needed to leave. First, I needed to get Linna.

“How serious is this relationship? ‘Cause I have to admit, since we’re sharing our deepest secrets and all, the idea of you being with a prince, a man I cannot compete with, makes me sad.”

“Very serious.” I laughed nervously and glanced down, shaking my head. “You don't even know me. You can’t possibly care who I date.”

“It’s the weirdest thing, Finley Roze. I’ve never wished someone bad luck in love, though I find myself praying your relationship doesn’t work. But the idea that I only met you tonight and will likely never see you again, gives me this claustrophobic feeling, like I can’t fully breathe.”

I had nothing to offer in response to that. Absolutely nothing.

“I shouldn't have said that. Forgive me. I’m tired and being forward.” He didn't sound apologetic.

The words created a level of discomfort in my stomach that hit like a ton of bricks. It was deep and painful regret. I needed to get away from him and his secrets and confessions. This was a mistake. But I couldn't leave Linna.

“Has it been twelve minutes yet?” I asked, a bit scared, not just of him but of the inappropriateness of this moment. He was hot and funny and uncomplicated, and he said the right things. And it was dark and we were alone.

“Four. Eight minutes left. I expected that story to be longer. I think you need to work on it.” He smiled and tried to avoid my eyes the same way I was his. “How did he win your heart?” he pried, hard-core pried.

“Letters,” I blurted, desperate to talk about Aiden and not Lucas finding me attractive. “He was cute and funny and sort of snooty. But he wanted to be my friend right out of the gate, sort of forced a friendship on me. Which was intriguing. But then he had to go home, so he sent me handwritten letters.” I gushed a little remembering, “And set up day trips for me to explore Nova Scotia. I’d never been there before so he sent me to his favorite places. That picture with the three churches, that’s Mahone Bay. It’s stunning.”

“That’s in Canada? Really? Looks like Germany or somewhere with history and culture.”

“Canada is actually pretty cool,” I defended the place I’d grown to love, though I’d only seen one small corner. “And Aiden is one of those amazing people who does things to watch you experience them. He’s selfless and perfect.” And I missed him too much. “He’s adventurous and passionate and crazy. He wants you to try food that no one knows about from some random restaurant, and he wants you to see from a viewpoint no one else notices—”

“Miss Finley?” Isaac’s voice interrupted us. “What are you doing?”

“Uhhhh—” Busted!

“Chaperoning, sir,” Lucas added, pointing to a shadow as Linna giggled from it.

“Perhaps it’s best if I wait for Miss Linna with the young man.” He wasn't asking.

“Of course.” I stood abruptly and smiled at Lucas, trying to forget he’d said he was dying from the thought of never seeing me again. “It was nice meeting you. Have a great life, Lucas Reid. And I hope your mom and dad are okay.” I turned and left, noting the strange hollow feeling inside me.

It wasn't just being caught talking to a guy in the dark.

It wasn't just the fact he was cute and had tried to hit on me.

It was knowing Aiden would be crushed if he knew. That sickened me. I stared at my phone, at the kissy face, before going to sleep, reminding myself of everything I had.

Sometimes a girl needed a reminder.