"In a few days, it’ll be too late. And then I'll talk to him and he can slink away with his tail between his legs."

"Man, I thought I hated my dad."

I shrugged. "Hate is too strong of a word. I just don't care about him.” Years ago, when I needed a father, someone to come and rescue me, I had gone to him. I begged him, frightened, to come and stop what was going on at my mother's house, but he told me I was making it up. My own father. He could have stopped everything. But no, he hadn’t come, and my mother had remained blissfully unaware. For years I'd harbored anger against her too. How could she not have known?

How could she not see? Only later did I realize that my stepfather had kept her on a Xanax and Ambien cocktail to soothe her nerves. She hadn't known. She hadn't been alert enough to save us.

So much of my fury was directed at the old man. He had been alert. He could have saved us, but he'd chosen not to. So nowadays when he asked shit from me, my ready response was, 'Go fuck yourself.'

"I mean, there's still time. Your birthday is not for a few days yet. I know your father is not an idiot."

I shook my head. "No, he's not an idiot. But we've kept this deal under wraps. We got this. Nothing is going to be announced until after my birthday, so it's fine. And once it's all signed, sealed and delivered, I'll be happy to be the one to tell him. Matter of fact, I can't wait."

Nick nodded. "I hear you. We can have a big party when it's all done."

"You know, I think I'm probably done with parties for a bit."

He smirked. "I still can't believe fucking Jean Claude tried to kidnap you."

"The bloke is such a fucking wanker.”

"So, he's trying to keep you ready for what, the apocalypse?"

I rolled my eyes. "The royal apocalypse, which is such bullshit. There's no chance in hell my mother sits on that throne."

He was quiet for a moment, and he reached into his coat to pull out a cigarette and a lighter. He offered me one, and I begged off. It didn't matter how many times I had told him. He couldn't seem to remember that I didn't smoke. He lit it, blowing the smoke out from under his umbrella into the misting rain. "But like, legitimately, you could be a prince."

"Technically, I have a title. But it doesn't mean anything because we're not allowed to go to Nomea. So why use it? Nomea has a king. I'm not it."

Nick laughed. "But you could be it. Imagine, running a whole country. That's the real business."