“Thank you,” I tell her.

She gives me a small smile and then hurries away again. Vivienne lets out a small scoff, and I look at her as I quickly switch our water goblets.

“I didn’t do it for her,” I whisper, smirking.

She blushes.

“So, Jace, do many people end up playing football professionally where you’re from?” Vivienne’s father asks, continuing our previous conversation.

“No, not too many, sir,” I reply truthfully.

“It’s more competitive than making it into the Royal Guard, Papa,” Vivienne adds. “There are thousands of players who try to play professionally, but only a couple hundred are selected each year. You have to be incredibly talented and hardworking to even be considered. Jace broke almost every record when he played at Lincoln, not to mention he was the very first player chosen at the draft. It’s a tremendous honor.”

Pride saturates her words, and it wrecks me. I’ve listened to my parents brag about me, I’ve gotten countless compliments from teammates and friends over the years, but I’ve never heard Viv boast about me before. The closest thing to a compliment I’ve ever received from her is when she said she admired me in my parent’s kitchen. Witnessing Viv vaunt about me knocks down every defense I erected around my heart in anticipation of this visit.

“That’s very impressive, Jace,” Vivienne’s father says. There’s a new layer of respect in his voice. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you, sir.” I respond.

“Your family must be very proud.”

I shift in my chair, uncomfortable with the accolades. “Uh, yes. I believe they are.”

“Your family lives in Nebraska, Jace?” Vivienne’s mother asks, rejoining the conversation as our salad plates disappear and are replaced by individual pot pies.

“Yes, that’s right,” I reply, surprised she knows that detail about me. Vivienne’s mother does not look like the type of person who would know Nebraska exists.

“And what do your parents do?”

“They’re farmers. The land has been in my family for generations.”

A new server enters the room, distracting me again. How many people work here? Dozens? Hundreds? I’ll have to ask Viv. This server is carrying a glass chalice of water and a fresh goblet that he sets down next to Vivienne.

“Your Highness, my apologies. I just realized you were served sparkling water by mistake.”

“It’s fine,” Viv replies. “Thank you.”

A brief silence descends as both of Vivienne’s parents eye the extra water glass.

“This dinner is delicious,” I finally jump in with. “I wasn’t sure what to expect from Marcedenian cuisine, but pot pie is one of my favorites.”

For some reason, Evelyn looks miffed by my compliment. I’m certain she wasn’t the one who actually made it, so perhaps that’s the reason why. I glance at Viv for some clue, but she’s studying her plate.

Robert asks me about football again, this time about my training schedule and role on the team. The topic guides us through the end of dinner. Evelyn and Viv stay mostly silent, although Viv does chime in after her father incorrectly asks about the downs.