Vivienne’s father shoots me a grateful glance, and the queen takes the opportunity to excuse herself from the uncomfortable situation as well.

“I’d better get back to the palace. Good to see you, Charles,” she says before heading toward the line of cars waiting just past the boathouse.

I glance to Viv, and she gives me a small nod. I know she’s more than capable of handling herself, so I follow Robert inside the boathouse. A massive boat sits on stilts in front of us.

“Wow,” I repeat for the umpteenth time. “This is quite a boat.”

“Isn’t she a beauty?” Vivienne’s father replies. “She needed some restoration, but she’ll be back in the water next week.”

“She?” I ask.

The king nods to the rear of the boat, where Queen Vivienne is painted in an elegant, scrawling script.

“I had that done when she was only two years old,” Robert remarks.

“She’s exquisite,” I respond. I’m not just referring to the boat, and Vivienne’s father seems to understand that. He nods, then proceeds to show me several other boats in his collection. Eventually, we end up back by the main door we entered through.

“Charles is a good kid,” Robert states. I take this to mean he overheard some of our conversation.

I sigh. “I’m sure he is.”

“He’s threatened by you.”

“He shouldn’t be. After tomorrow, I’ll be gone. She made it clear I shouldn’t change any plans.”

Vivienne’s father nods. “I see.” His expression is unreadable as he glances outside. “Looks like we’re good to go,” he informs me.

I follow him outside to see Viv leaning against the side of her convertible, staring out at the water we just returned from. Charles is gone.

“I’ll take one of the other cars back,” Robert tells me. I nod.

I walk over to Viv, and her gaze meets mine. Her face is completely neutral, purposefully so. Her hand twitches, and a flash of silver flies toward me. I catch the car keys easily and walk around to climb in the driver’s seat. Viv settles beside me.

“Are you okay?” I ask as I insert the ridged metal into the ignition.

“I’m fine,” Viv replies.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Nope.”

“I’m sorry about before. I was…jealous,” I admit.

“I know,” Viv murmurs. She looks out toward the ocean again. “The fucked-up part?” I look at her in surprise. She hardly ever swears. “I liked that you were. Even worse? The whole time you were being an asshole toward Charles, I was thinking about all the awful things I would want to say if I ever met Miss South Carolina.”

“It’s just a publicity thing, Viv.”

“I know. But one day it won’t be.”

“You can’t say shit like that to me, Viv. You can’t—” I huff out a sharp breath.

“I know. I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry.”

She casts her gaze down at her knees when I look at her.

“I’m sorry,” she repeats softly, and I know she’s talking about more than just her words now.