Page 46 of Heavy Crown

We’re the only ones here so far, but Posey and Brent said this is a popular place to snorkel. Would this be something the royals do? For some reason, I can’t imagine Alex out here, and it makes me sad to think he wouldn’t do these things or might not have time for them.

While we swim, I mull over the complexities of Alex. His declaration that he can never marry me should have stunned me because there’s nothing overtly romantic going on between us. We’ve barely known each other a week. But from the minute I woke up in the hospital, there’s been an intangible between us. A connection. A string. Pieces of us are woven together in a way I’ve never experienced with anyone else.

When I came to visit Bellerive with Derrick, this country felt more like home than Canada ever had. I associated my sense of belonging with Derrick and our relationship. So, when he suggested I move here with him after graduation, I was sure he was my fate. Bellerive was right, and therefore Derrick must be right too.

Except, when I was a child, I dreamt of the cottage I now live in. Vivid, visceral dreams I never forgot. As foolish as it sounds, I’ve wondered whether my gut reaction to the island was tied to Alex all along, even before I knew him.

How is that possible?

Such a silly notion.

A few days ago, when my head throbbed at regular intervals, I could pretend these fanciful thoughts were linked to my concussion, my trauma. Of course I wanted to believe a prince who rescued me could be my very own Prince Charming. Who wouldn’t?

But the clearer my head gets, the harder it is to justify these notions. They’re there whether or not I want them. I keep trying to talk myself out of falling in love with a prince, but it’s not his status I crave. If anything, his notoriety is a drawback. Being lured into another family whose personal lives are tied so intimately to their livelihood is my worst nightmare. My family and Derrick’s family are proof of the dysfunction. I shouldn’t want anything to do with him in a romantic way.

Except when I look at him, I don’t see a prince or his family. He’s Alex. Stern, funny Alex. In my eyes, Prince Alexander isn’t a real person. Alex is.

When we climb onto the boat later and put away our gear, Posey loops her arm around my shoulders. “Did you like that? You were pretty quiet.”

“No, I loved it.” I grin. “The massive shark Brent pointed out across the reef near the end almost gave me a heart attack. But it didn’t eat me, so I’ll put that in the win column.”

Brent laughs at the front of the boat as he draws up the anchor. “Always a good day when no one gets eaten.”

“Brice and Brent are going to chill out in Brice’s wing of the palace while you and I get glammed up at your place. Sound good?”

For the millionth time, it strikes me how much better my life has been since Alex found my car. Many of Derrick’s friends were nice, but none of them were ever mine. They were his, and they tolerated me.

Whereas Posey’s friendship is a gift, quite literally from Alex, but nothing has been forced between us this week. She’s introduced me to her circle of friends, and while every person is wildly different, they all exuded warmth and acceptance, just like Posey. “You are rapidly becoming one of my favorite people,” I admit on impulse.

Posey grins and slides her sunglasses onto her face. “I think you’re a gem, too, Rory. Honestly. Makes me so sad your year here has been so shit. Done right, nowhere in the world is better than Bellerive.”

“I’ve got one more year, and the bar is set so low, I can’t do any worse.”

Posey nods. “We’ll drink to that later tonight. To a second year that far exceeds the first.”

“You ladies ready?” Brent asks over his shoulder, and his hand rests on the throttle.

Posey and I sink into the bench seat at the back of the power boat and give him the thumbs up. We roar away from the shipwreck. I stare out at the ocean, and for the first time in a long while, I’m consumed by contentment. This is where I belong.

Being in a group with someone as famous as Brice Summerset is like journeying to an alternate version of reality—similar to grocery shopping with his brother. When we arrive at the wine bar, we enter via a side entrance and an employee who was instructed to meet us there. We slink down narrow hallways until we get to another concealed entrance, which leads into the VIP area for the Wino Wine Bar. While the name isn’t classy, the place certainly is. The décor is deep, lush colors, and the lighting is low. The three of them assured me there was no hotter spot in Bellerive for casual, expensive drinking.

We’re led to a red leather couch and two black armchairs with a small coffee table between us. Everything in Bellerive is expensive, but when the wine menu we’re offered doesn’t even have prices listed, we achieve the next level of wealthy. If you have to ask, you can’t afford it.

When it’s my turn to order, I ask for water. Brice scoffs beside me. “You can’t order water at a wine bar. It’s illegal.”

I peer at Posey for confirmation, and she laughs. “It’s not illegal.” She searches my face for a beat and then orders me the same wine as her and tells the waiter to put it on her tab.

On day three of our week together, she rooted out my financial troubles over scone making.

“I have my concussion assessment tomorrow,” I say. “I shouldn’t drink too much.”

Brice waves me off. “No such thing as too much. Power through, Wilson.”

Posey slaps him on the arm. “She needs to pass her assessment to be allowed to work. You’re not going to be a bad influence tonight, or I’ll regret inviting you.”

“I invited myself.” Brice smirks. “My specialty.” He sighs. “It’s great Nick and Jules are attached at the hip again, but I miss my partner in crime. He would have gotten drunk with me. Brent’s training. Rory has a concussion. Posey, you’re my only hope.”

“We could have invited them,” I say. While I’ve met Julia a few times this week thanks to my new best friend, I haven’t seen Nick.