Tristan glanced around his room and thought of sitting here all night, knowing that Ele was gracing the halls of the royal palace. “Yeah, let’s go.” He slid his feet into a pair of trainers and grabbed his keys. “The White Horse?”
“Blowing the diet?”
“Need a distraction.”
“Yeah, me too.”
Tristan nodded as if Caleb could see him. “I’ll be by in a bit.” He disconnected and slid his mobile into the pocket of his hoodie.
He checked his wallet for cash and then left his room. In the kitchen, he pulled open a cabinet, grabbed a water bottle, and ambled to the faucet to fill it. When he turned to leave, he noticed something on his counter and stopped short. Propped up against a stack of mail he’d been neglecting was a shimmery gold envelope. The thickness of it and the embossed lettering indicated some kind of an invitation. He’d been distracted when he got home, but he couldn’t imagine missing it. He crept closer but did a visual sweep of his flat. Someone must have been there at some point.
He reached for the envelope, plucking it from the counter. Unsealed, he lifted the flap. A royal-blue card peeked from beneath the golden edge. Pulling it out, he quickly read the gala invitation. He fought the urge to smile. The event started at seven o’clock, and it was already half past.
“Wonder if the invitation comes with a fairy godmother,” he joked to himself.
“No, just a bodyguard.
”
Tristan’s heart thumped in his chest. He startled, his hand reflexively flying out in a defensive strike, sending the invitation flying across the room, as he jumped into the air. “What the actual fuck?”
He turned to find Robert leaning casually against the doorjamb. Tristan wanted to punch him in the face for scaring the shit out of him, but then Robert smiled, and Tristan blinked in surprise.
“You actually smile?”
“When warranted.”
“Scaring the piss out of me warrants it?”
Robert’s smile grew wider, and the beginning of a dry chuckle sounded from him. “Aye.” He pushed away from the wall. “So, did you?”
“Did I what?”
“Piss yourself?”
“About.”
Another chuckle. Robert nodded at him. “I know you have formalwear. Go get dressed.”
“You’re serious.”
“When am I not? You think I came here because I missed you or something?”
“I mean, I’m kinda hard to resist.” Tristan did his best rendition of his goal-scoring celebration.
“Hmm,” was all the response offered.
“Am I really supposed to show up to this gala tonight?” Tristan asked when Robert continued to stare at him.
“You are.”
“Who issued the invitation?” Tristan wanted it to have come from Ele. He wanted her to want him with her. Talking on the phone, being her friend across an ocean, was fine. But he wanted her to claim him publicly. He couldn’t remember a time when insecurity had plagued him. Yet he wasn’t completely sure where Ele stood on being with him as a couple. It was rather bothersome.
“He did.” Robert nodded to the left.
Tristan’s flat wasn’t ostentatious, but it wasn’t small. From the door, there was a direct line to the kitchen, where he was standing. To the right and left was one massive, open space with windows flanking the whole of the outside wall. Leaning up against the sill of the large window was Crown Prince James. Tristan looked back and forth between the two men.
“A prince and a bodyguard walked into a flat …” he mumbled to himself.