Majesty (American Royals, #2)(52)

If they kept up this relationship, the entire world would see Marshall in a place of honor at a royal wedding: dancing the opening song, standing next to the Washingtons in official photos. Sam was aware how powerful that kind of imagery could be—maybe even powerful enough to change the national discourse.

But at what cost to Marshall and his family?

I’ll understand if you want to call the whole thing off, she forced herself to write, pulling her lip into her teeth.

Nope. The media attention sucks, but it’s worth it.

Sam’s heart gave a strange lurch. She began tapping at the screen, but before she could reply, another text appeared from Marshall.

Kelsey texted this morning. Your plan was genius.

She leaned back on the barstool to catch her breath. Right. This was all just for show.

Of course I’m a genius, she managed, striving to match his irreverence. Btw, next time we make out, can we face the other way? I want to make sure the photos get my good side.

Sam stared at her phone, but there was no immediate answer. She turned it over, shoved it away from her, leaned her chin in her hand, then impatiently flipped it back over. The three little dots of the typing bubble had appeared on Marshall’s side of the conversation.

Sure, he replied. Lucky for you, both my sides are gorgeous.

Sam sent an eye-roll emoji, then tossed her phone forcefully into her bag.

Her eyes caught on a girl sitting across the bar, in sunglasses and a green dress with wispy sleeves. She’d hunched her shoulders forward, deflecting attention, though no one seemed to pay her any mind.

“Daphne?”

The other girl removed her sunglasses with obvious reluctance. “Hey, Samantha,” she said, and glanced down at her phone.

“You’re waiting for someone,” Sam realized. Of course, girls like Daphne didn’t sit at the bar of the Patriot alone. The way Sam did.

“No. I mean, I was waiting for someone, but he probably isn’t coming.”

“It was Jeff, wasn’t it?” When Daphne didn’t answer, Sam knew she’d guessed right. “Hey, if it helps, I guarantee he’s not in any shape to be out right now. Not that I’m doing much better.”

To her surprise, Daphne made a strange spluttering sound that was almost a laugh. “I should have known not to make plans with your brother the morning after one of your parties.”

“In that case, want to join me?”

Sam didn’t know what had prompted her to ask. It felt like a violation of her friendship with Nina to sit here with Jeff’s other ex-girlfriend. Although…just last night, Nina had insisted that she liked Ethan.

And right now, Daphne didn’t seem like her usual shiny, perfect self. She seemed as disappointed at being stood up as any other girl, and Sam liked her the more for it.

“All right.” Daphne slid down from her barstool and moved to the one by Sam. She crossed her ankles, her hands folded in her lap, the way photographers always asked Sam to sit for her formal portraits. Actually, it looked quite regal.

The bartender came over, his smile carefully polite. He was far too professional to reveal that he knew who they were, or that Sam had been all over the headlines that morning. “What can I get for you ladies?”

“Coffee,” Sam groaned just as Daphne murmured, “A cappuccino, please, extra dry.”

When the bartender turned aside, Sam glanced curiously at Daphne. “So, I saw you talking to Jeff at the party.”

“For a while,” Daphne said carefully.

“Are you guys getting back together?”

“I don’t know.” Now Daphne was the one looking meaningfully at Sam. “I mean, I keep wondering if Nina is still in the picture…”

So, Daphne was fishing for information. Sam hesitated, feeling suddenly protective of her best friend. She wasn’t about to tell Nina’s secret—but she also didn’t want it to seem like Nina had been waiting around all these months, pining uselessly for Jeff.

“Actually, Nina has moved on,” she said carefully. “She’s into a guy at school.”

There was a funny note in Daphne’s voice as she replied, “Oh, you mean Ethan?”

Sam was too hungover, and too confused, to hide her surprise. “How did…”

“I saw them together last night,” Daphne said easily, and Sam nodded. She hadn’t realized things with Nina and Ethan had worked out, and in such a public way that Daphne had seen them. Then again, Sam had been pretty distracted toward the end of the party.

The bartender returned to deliver their coffees. Sam was too impatient to wait for cream or sugar; she immediately took a sip. But the coffee’s bitter heat did nothing to settle her nerves.

“How do you handle the press?” she asked abruptly. “I mean, obviously you never ended up in photos like mine. But still…you never seem bothered by the media.”

“Oh, they bother me plenty.” Daphne stirred a sugar packet into her cappuccino, then delicately tapped her spoon against the side of the cup. “You think it was fun for me last summer? The paparazzi chased me for weeks after your brother broke up with me, trying to get a picture of me crying. It took every ounce of my self-control to ignore them.”

Sam felt suddenly guilty that she’d never considered Daphne’s feelings once, not during the entire time Jeff had dated her. It was just…Daphne hid her emotions so well—the way Beatrice did, the way Sam was supposed to do—that it usually seemed like she didn’t have any at all.