Chapter 22

Alexander

In all the years I’d occupied this apartment, the carpet had never seen such abuse. Tamara’s quick strides took her from one end of my sitting room to the other, then back again. The electricity of her nervousness crackled through the air, and I struggled to think of ways to calm her down. I’d already tried alcohol.

Hank, distressed both by Tamara’s mood and by the oddity of having someone else in my apartment, whimpered from his bed in the corner. Apparently, I was the only one able to keep a cool head.

“Tamara,” I said softly. I stood by the fireplace, holding a glass of wine. Tamara clutched hers in a claw-like grip but hadn’t drank from it.

“This is crazy,” she muttered. I wasn’t sure if she was talking to me. “I’m about to meet the king. The king! And your brother and sister...oh god. What if they don’t like me? What if they hate me? What if they have me deported?”

She stopped on a dime and spun to face me. I thought that letting her chew through it on her own was the best way to go, but the look on her face said otherwise. I placed my glass down on the mantle and approached her, twining my arms around her back and nuzzling into the top of her head.

“You’re going to do just fine,” I said. “They have no reason to dislike you.”

“That’s not what the tabloids say.”

I pulled back and guided her chin up so our eyes met. “Don’t listen to those cheap fluff pieces. The only thing they’re designed for is selling papers, not perpetuating truths.”

Her lips turned down in a pout. I kissed them until they formed a smile.

“We should go,” I said, checking my watch. “They’ll be waiting for us.”

Tamara knocked back her wine in two gulps and then ran her hands down the front of her dress, smoothing the wrinkles. I tossed Hank a bone on our way out the door and led Tamara by the hand to the reception room.

Edward, Clarissa, and Victoria were waiting there for us. My father always arrived exactly on time, not one second before or after, and Nana was going to meet us in the dining room after she finished up some work downstairs.

Victoria bounced over to us, grinning like a madwoman. “It’s so nice to meet you!”

“You as well,” Tamara said, extending a hand. She’d smoothed her expression into one of cultivated calm. “And thank you for having me for dinner.”

“Are you kidding? There’s no way we’d skip out on a chance to meet Alex’s first girlfriend.”

Tamara glanced over questioningly.

“Did I not mention you’re the first girl I’ve had over for dinner?” I asked.

I would object to Tamara being my first girlfriend, except I couldn’t remember another woman in my life who’d fit the title. I’d gone out with a few girls, but none had ever met my family, nor had I discussed any sort of label with them. I suppose that did make Tamara my first girlfriend. Huh.

“I’m not sure whether to be flattered or concerned,” she joked.

Victoria giggled. “When it’s Alex, concerned is always a safe choice.”

“Now, now,” said Edward, arriving beside Victoria. “It would be terribly bad form to scare her away before the first course.” He winked. “Wait until dessert, at least.”

Clarissa stood beside him serenely, a polite smile on her lips. “I’m a fan of your work, Tamara,” she said. “I never miss an episode of your show.”

Tamara blushed. “Thank you.”

“That makes two Princess of Nowhere fanatics in this place,” I said. “Soon I’ll be outnumbered.”

The carved double doors at the side of the room opened and my father entered in a pressed navy suit, regal even without his crown. He didn’t hide his initial inspection of Tamara, but thankfully he appeared to like what he saw.

“Miss Callahan,” Father boomed, taking her hand.

Tamara performed a small curtsey, just like we’d practiced. I’d insisted that a full-length bow was strictly unnecessary but she wouldn’t meet a king without at least doing a curtsey.

“Your Majesty.”

“Please, call me Henry,” he said.

He released her hand and turned to me. “Shall we?”

I nodded.

Nana arrived in the dining room just as we all took our seats, and her face glowed the minute she set eyes on Tamara.

“You are even more beautiful in real life!” she crooned.

I chuckled. “Tamara, this is Violet, who I’ve told you about.”

“Nobody calls me Violet,” Nana said with a dismissive hand gesture. “Call me Nana.”

Nana shook Tamara’s hand with gusto and took her seat, and the servers came out with our drinks.

So far, things were going very well. I figured they would, since I found it unlikely that anyone would find fault in Tamara, but it was a relief all the same. I had no idea what to expect, after all.

“Tamara,” said Victoria. “This must all seem crazy to you. What was it like growing up in America?”

Victoria had an insatiable curiosity about life across the pond. She’d visited a couple of times but I had a feeling a move was in her future. Sometimes I worried that she would feel too trapped in royal obligation to pursue her dreams, a situation I only exacerbated by providing the wrong kind of example.

“I’ve got a pretty varied experience in the States,” Tamara answered. “I grew up in New York and that’s where my family lives, but I live in LA now when I’m not over here shooting.”

“Do you like it here?” Victoria asked.

Tamara smiled, eyes flitting to me. “I do. More than I expected to. I became a bit of a sun worshipper after my LA move, but the longer I spend here the more I’ve grown to appreciate the wet.”

“I would love to visit California,” Victoria said in a dreamy voice. “I hear there are redwoods big enough to drive through.”

“You would love it.” Tamara nodded. “That’s one thing I do miss a lot from home—big, open forests. There’s nothing quite like it here.”

“Maybe we can go exploring in California one day!” Victoria said brightly.

Tamara’s smile flickered and she cleared her throat. “Yeah, maybe.”

Father watched the exchange without participating, chewing thoughtfully. He studied Tamara as if she were a strange animal I’d brought home with me, and in some ways she was.

A girlfriend.

My girlfriend.

I could tell my refusal of Svetlana made more sense to him now, though I still couldn’t make heads or tails of whether he approved. Not that it mattered. I had no problem defying his wishes over things I didn’t give a shit about. When it came to Tamara, he’d have an easier time trying to make the sun set in the morning than separating us.

“What do your parents do?” Edward asked.

I bit the inside of my mouth, but Tamara didn’t seem to mind. She obviously didn’t know he was mining for status, the bastard.

“My mom’s a teacher,” she said. “Dad does construction.” She chuckled. “They’re no monarchs, but they enjoy the work they do.”

I should have guessed Tamara would navigate my brother’s needling with grace and dignity. It was how she did everything. I smiled inwardly and slipped another forkful of salad into my mouth.

“Did you always want to be an actress?” Nana asked.

Tamara nodded. “Since I was a little girl. I fell in love with Katherine Hepburn and Judy Garland at a young age, and playing a role is the ultimate game of dress-up.” She smiled. “My life so far has been a dream come true.”

The rest of dinner flew by. If not at ease, Tamara at least appeared in her element. It wasn’t until we got back to my apartment, bottle of wine in hand, that she showed how taxing the evening had been.

“Jeez,” Tamara said with a breathy sigh, sinking onto the couch. “I feel like I’ve been wrung out.” She looked to me hopefully. “Was I okay?”

“You were marvelous.” I poured her a glass and passed it down to her before filling my own. “Victoria was eating out of your hand.”

“It’s not Victoria I worry about.”

I chuckled and slid next to her, pulling her so her head rested against my chest. “Don’t worry about Edward. The only person in this place he disapproves of is me.” I took a sip. “Besides, I think he quite liked you.”

“I don’t think he cared much for my lackluster lineage,” she remarked. “Though I suppose it can’t matter that much. It’s not like we’re getting married.”

At the mention of marriage, an image of Tamara in a floating white gown passed before my eyes and I smiled without thinking. Then reality settled back in and I remembered she was leaving soon. I pushed the thought away.

“Are you feeling less anxious about the garden party next week?” I asked.

Tamara sat up and took a hefty gulp of wine.

I laughed. “I guess not.”

“Even if it matters more to them than anyone else, your family is bound by honor or whatever to be nice to me.” She wrinkled her nose. “But all those other hoity-toity rich people...who knows what they’re going to be like.”

What could I do to make her more comfortable? I thought meeting my family and getting that whole business out of the way would help, but there wasn’t much I could do to prepare her for the ups and down of societal company.

“Why don’t you bring Jo?” I suggested. “That way you needn’t feel so alone. I’ll be with you, of course, but it could help to have one of your own.”

I didn’t mean for it to come out so patronizing, and for a moment I thought I’d offended her. The moment passed.

Tamara nodded. “Yeah, that would be good.” She knocked back some more wine. “Between that and giving her the apartment for the night tonight, you’ll be her new favorite person.”

I laughed. “And here I thought she was jealous she didn’t get to spend the night in the palace.”

“She gets to spend the night with Tristan,” Tamara said. “That’s more than enough of a consolation prize. They seem to be getting pretty serious.”

“What do you think is going to happen at the end of the summer?”

I meant with Tristan and Jo, but I couldn’t ignore the parallels their situation shared with ours.

Tamara must’ve thought that too, because her eyes glazed over for a moment in thought. Then she gave a short shrug and finished the rest of her wine. “Que sera sera.”

I kissed the top of her head.

Que sera sera, indeed, I thought. Whatever will be, will be...