Chapter 4

C HAPTER 4

DAYS SINCE I'VE SEEN THEO: NINETY-ONE

The first time I met Theo, I had no idea who he was. Once I figured it out, I didn't particularly care. Three months that feel like a lifetime later, I'm just another one of his intense royal-watcher fanatics.

I stop breathing.

"I can't see anything," I say as more and more people flow into the garden. Naomi and I stand on our bench to get a better look as my stomach tightens with familiar anticipation. I tell myself it doesn't mean anything that my blood hums at the thought of him.

"Those are the royal protection officers," Naomi explains, although for once, she doesn't need to. I summoned men just like them to Santorini to handcuff Theo and drag him away. "I wonder if Major Winston is here," she says. She sees my bewildered look and explains, "He was one of the Queen's bodyguards before her death."

"How do you know that?"

"He's kind of famous. You really don't know who he is? He's younger than the rest of them. Twenty-fiveish, I think? Hot. Biceps for days?"

"Not ringing any bells." The garden continues to fill as film crews, photographers, and a mob of overly excited weirdos anticipate the arrival of the royal family. "Who are all these people?" I demand. Flickers of contempt burn in my chest as I clock the tremor of excitement swirling around us. "The royals are just people, not zoo animals."

"Pot, meet kettle." Naomi motions from us to the crowd.

"We're not gawking; we're here for a dog heist," I remind Naomi as a cheer erupts from the crowd. I catch a glimpse of dark blond hair. The princess has arrived.

"This is their first royal walkabout since the Queen died," Naomi whispers.

"Their first what ?"

"Walkabout. It's when members of the royal family go outside to greet and shake hands with the public—they walk about. "

"Does the King do walkabouts?" I ask, and I cannot believe the words that just came out of my mouth. It's such a silly sentence, made even sillier because the answer has the power to annihilate me.

"The Queen did," Naomi says. "But it's also possible that he has something else on his schedule and sent his sister out to connect with the public."

"Theo hates this kind of thing," I say, but I realize immediately how ridiculous I sound. Like I know anything about the person he is after losing a parent and ascending the throne.

I bite my lip to distract myself from the painful riot happening in my stomach. The sound of my own blood rushing in my ears is deafening, the thud of my own heart bruising. So this is how I die. Not from a world-ending comet, but from the excruciating anticipation of waiting to see a boy. When did I become so pathetic? I hope whoever writes my obituary takes it easy on me.

I've only had a moment to prepare for my imminent demise when I see him: the yellow Labrador of my heart, the dog who never left my side until I put him on Theo's plane, the reason I drove eight hours through the night.

Comet darts around a guard as he sprints to catch a tennis ball thrown by Princess Victoria. He returns the ball to her side, his heavy tail thumping happily against her thighs, his big tongue lolling to the side of his mouth. She crouches to give him a scratch behind his ears before handing the ball to a young boy in the crowd. When he tosses the ball, Comet leaps to catch it.

"I hate to say it, but he looks happy," Naomi says.

"I know." It's a double-edged sword, because I want my dog to be happy (I'm not a monster), but I want him to be happier with me. (I'm not a saint, either.)

She leans her head on my shoulder. "I really hate to say this, but I don't think Theo's here."

I know that too; the ranks have closed around the garden entrances, and Theo's nowhere to be found. (He's probably doing something more important, like shining his crown or bedazzling his scepter.) My stomach bottoms out from a painful mixture of relief and regret. Seeing him again would have been fraught, but now I'm doomed to spend the rest of my life under a cloud of what if.

Naomi's expression is crestfallen. "I'm sorry."

I shrug as the knot in my throat expands, making it hard to say anything.

"Do you want to try to get closer to Comet?" she asks. When I nod, she surveys the guards blocking all four garden exits. "I don't know how we're going to be able to sneak him out of here."

"We're not," I say, finally accepting the truth. There was never any plan that would have worked. What I did in Europe was the result of impossible circumstances. I don't have any power compared to the royal monarchy. "I'll just say hi and give him a hug and tell him I miss him."

"Is that enough?"

It's not, but it'll have to be. "You'll cause a distraction?" I ask.

"Of course. Too bad the weather couldn't help us out at all." She side-eyes the cloudless sky. (Naomi loathes sunshine. She calls it uninspired. ) "We could use a little help from nature's distraction right about now."

"You are so weird. And thank you for doing this for me."

"Ride or die," she confirms, giving my hand a quick squeeze before we split up.

She approaches the crowd from the left and I walk a far arc out to the right. I unzip my backpack and retrieve a handful of Wally's favorite peanut butter dog treats. Comet is chasing a bird when Naomi lets out an earsplitting shriek. "Victoria! I love you!" She sounds completely unhinged, and several nearby guards turn their attention toward her. Perfect.

Victoria raises her hand in a hesitant wave as Naomi shoves her way to the front of the crowd. When Comet's about fifteen feet from me, I whistle. He stops running and cocks his head.

"Comet!" I kneel behind the crowd of spectators and toss a treat in his direction while Naomi causes a ruckus. Comet's head swivels toward me, and a new fear zips through my system: What if he doesn't remember me? Then I say his name again and he takes off like a shot, crossing the distance between us in seconds. He leaps into my arms, knocking me flat on my back and licking me straight across the face like every dog in those "soldier returning home" videos that make me cry until I'm dehydrated. I'm not returning from war or anything, but tears prick the corner of my eyes at our reunion anyway.

I don't want to leave him again.

I sit up, my hand firmly around Comet's collar, and glance around. His tail hammers my side with a dozen painful thuds. Behind us, not too far away, is a newly unmanned street entrance. "What do you think, boy?" I ask, wrapping an arm around his torso. "Can we make it?" He eats the treats I dropped on the grass, perfectly content to stay right here in my arms where he belongs.

Indecision tugs me in two directions, which isn't like me. If I have any chance at this, I need to run now. "Let's go," I say. "We'll meet Naomi back at the car."

I turn to see if I can catch her attention, just in time to watch in horror as a royal protection officer slaps a pair of handcuffs around her wrists and leads her away from the crowd.