Her Royal Highness (Royals #2)(4)

It’s been two weeks since I’ve seen Jude, two weeks since we were kissing in the tent in my backyard, and she was supposed to get back from visiting her nana three days ago. I’ve been waiting on a text, but so far, no dice.

It’s hard not to make a connection between the return of Jude’s ex-boyfriend and her sudden radio silence, but trust me, those are dots I’m really trying not to connect, no matter what Darcy said.

I know what me and Jude have, and it’s not just “a distraction” or whatever. It’s real. It’s an us, like Jude said . . .

There’s a buzz from the table, and I lean over, snatching the phone up only to deflate back into Aunt Vi’s uncomfortable-but-extremely-stylish white leather chair.

It’s a text, but it’s from Lee, asking me if Jude texted yet.

No, I type back, bagpipes and heavy breathing in the background. But she’s still hanging out with Nana?

Another buzz, and there’s a series of

Thanks for the positive vibes, I text back, frowning.

The phone buzzes again, but I ignore it this time, focusing on the show, where Callum and Helena are now lying down, thankfully covered up.

“Everything okay, kiddo?” Aunt Vi asks, and I nod, forcing myself to smile at her.

“Yeah, just . . . you know, worried about Callum and Helena. Soon this British guy, Lord Harley, shows up, and he’s bad news.”

Aunt Vi gives me a look, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. She’s my dad’s younger sister, and was born when he was in high school, so she’s sometimes more like a big sister to me than an aunt. But every once in a while, she also tries the Mom Thing on for size, and I can tell that’s what’s about to happen now.

“You don’t seem okay,” she says, turning on the couch to face me. “Is it school?”

“It’s summer break, Aunt Vi,” I remind her. “But yes, in general, school is fine. School is always fine for me, you know that.”

She screws up her face, looking an awful lot like me as she does. “I don’t know where you got your nerd gene from,” she says, “but it is strong with you.”

I shrug. “From Mom, maybe?” And Aunt Vi’s face immediately crumples into a sympathetic frown.

“Of course,” she says. “Your mom was super smart. Way too smart to have married my brother, I thought, but there’s no accounting for taste.”

I smile back at her, not wanting her to feel weird, which is a thing that can happen when you bring up a dead parent, I’ve learned. Even with other family members. So I lighten my tone, crossing my legs as I say, “And being good at school equals scholarships, which equals money, and you know I love the hustle.”

Aunt Vi laughs. “That you do.”

Picking up one of the roughly five thousand throw pillows on her couch, this one in a slightly different shade of white—Aunt Vi is all about the monochrome look—she squeezes it to her chest. “So not school. Boy?”

I nearly glance at my phone again, but just manage to avoid it. “No boy,” I say, which is true to the letter of Aunt Vi’s question if not the spirit.

I can tell she’s about to press further, but then, thank god, Helena and Callum start making out again and her attention is diverted.

“I miss Kyle,” she says on a sigh, and okay, yeah, that’s about enough of that.

Rising to my feet, I put my phone in my pocket and point to the empty cookie box on the coffee table. “Oh, look at that. We’re out of cookies. I’ll run and get some more.”

Her focus now back on the television, she gives a faint nod, waving a hand toward the kitchen. “There’s a twenty in that Himalayan salt dish by the front door.”

I walk toward the bowl she mentioned, fishing out the twenty-dollar bill from a sea of change and ponytail holders. Once it’s in the pocket of my shorts, I look again at the bowl, holding it up briefly, then, after a second, tentatively touching my tongue to it.

“This isn’t actually salt,” I call to her. “It’s probably just a pink quartz.”

“Nerd!” she calls back, but I smile as I put the bowl back down and head out the door.

It’s warm outside—hot, really—and the sky is almost painfully blue overhead. Aunt Vi’s apartment complex is in this new little community they’ve built that’s supposed to re-create the experience of small town living, so just down a redbrick sidewalk, there’s a little square with a drugstore, some restaurants, and a handful of boutiques.

I make my way past the fountain, letting my hand trail along the wrought-iron fence, my rings making a satisfying clinking sound as I do. I think my dad feels bad that we haven’t gone anywhere this summer, but my stepmom had to work, and my little brother isn’t even one yet, so this didn’t seem like a great year for a Quint Family Vacation. I don’t really regret it, though. It’s given me a chance to do extra studying for the AP Environmental Science exam next year, plus I’ve gotten to hang out with Aunt Vi, who clearly needs me.

And then there’s Jude.

As I step on the mat activating the automatic doors to the drugstore (just a chain store, but with a redbrick entrance and striped awning to make it look nicer than it is), my phone buzzes again in my pocket, and my hands fumble to pull it out.

Still not Jude, and my heart sinks a little.