Majesty (American Royals, #2)(19)
It felt a little strange, talking about this with Ethan, but he did know Jeff better than anyone. Maybe he would understand the strange paradox of Nina’s feelings.
“Things were never simple with me and Jeff after the news of our relationship got out,” Nina began. “It was fine when it was just us. But once everyone knew, so many things kept getting in the way.” Primarily, Jeff’s ex-girlfriend.
“The media really put you through hell, didn’t they.”
The usual sarcasm had evaporated from Ethan’s tone, and to Nina’s surprise, he seemed the handsomer for it. A bit of earnestness added depth to his brown eyes, smoothed away his careless smile.
“The thing is, I didn’t realize how much our breakup would impact my relationship with Sam, too.” Nina sighed. “I should have known better than to date my best friend’s brother. Clearly you know better,” she added, glancing back toward Ethan. “You never made a move on Sam, all these years.”
He scoffed at that. “Trust me, Sam isn’t my type.”
“What is your type?”
The question had come out oddly flirtatious, but to her relief, Ethan didn’t seem to notice. “It’s complicated enough being Jeff’s best friend. I don’t need to add another Washington relationship to the mix.”
“I know what you mean,” Nina admitted. “Honestly…sometimes I wonder why Sam and I are still friends.”
She felt a stab of disloyalty, saying this to Ethan. But then, who else could she talk about it with? Ethan was the only person who understood how it felt, being inextricably bound to the royal family without actually being one of them.
“Why do you say that?” Ethan asked. Not judgmental, but simply curious.
“We just don’t make sense as best friends.” She paused, searching for the right words to explain. Nina’s parents had taught her to be skeptical, and practical, whereas Sam hurtled forward without ever asking questions. Nina hardly dared to want things, and Sam always seemed to want enough for two people.
“We have next to nothing in common, except the fact that we’ve known each other since we were six.”
“But that’s just it—you’ve known each other since you were six,” Ethan argued. “You don’t need to be similar to your friends, not when you have so many years of shared history. Besides, your friendship is probably stronger because of all the ways you’re different. Jeff and I aren’t all that like each other, either.”
“Really? You seem pretty similar to me.”
“In some ways, sure.” Ethan shrugged. “But Jeff is actually as easygoing as he seems, while I’m just pretending. Also”—he lowered his voice conspiratorially—“I secretly hate the way the royals travel.”
Nina raised an eyebrow skeptically. “You don’t like staying at five-star resorts, with a small army of staff?”
“I’ll admit there are perks.” Ethan waved away her words. “But I’d rather travel without the royal press pack, without even an itinerary. Just wander around with a backpack and a passport.”
“Is that why you’re taking Intro to Journalism? To be a travel writer?” Nina asked, curious.
“I thought we’d agreed that I took Intro to Journalism so I could hang out with you.”
Nina laughed and took another bite of her sandwich, wondering why she’d always been so irritated by Ethan’s sarcasm in the past. She was beginning to sense that Ethan wasn’t the type of person you could get to know at first glance. You needed a second glance, and then a third.
Which she had never given him. Because he’d always been standing next to Jeff, and when Jeff was around, she’d never had eyes for anyone else.
Nina winced at the realization that she’d treated Ethan as dismissively as everyone had always treated her—when they’d stared through her as if she were a pane of glass, to focus on Sam.
She held out the bag of M&M’s as a peace offering. “Want some?”
“Careful what you offer; I might eat the whole bag,” he warned, reaching for the candy.
“And—Ethan? Thank you. For talking about all of this, I mean.”
“Of course,” he said gruffly. “It’s not like anyone else would understand.”
“I’m not sure,” Beatrice repeated, the same thing she’d said a dozen times already. She stared at the mirror, where the wedding gown—long-sleeved, with a voluminous tiered skirt—was reflected back at her. She looked like a stranger.
Queen Adelaide cast an apologetic glance at the designer before turning to her daughter. “Why don’t you walk around a little, see how it feels?”
Beatrice sighed and took a few steps forward. She wished Samantha were here, if only to hear the sarcastic commentary she would have provided on all these dresses. Except Sam had gone completely MIA. Normally Beatrice wouldn’t have given it another thought; Sam frequently skipped the events on her official schedule. This time, though, Beatrice knew her sister was punishing her for announcing her wedding date.
In typical Sam fashion, she was acting like she didn’t care—Beatrice had seen her at the museum gala, flirting outrageously with Lord Marshall Davis as if to prove something. But when Beatrice had tried to talk to her later that night, her sister had slammed the door in her face.