Danni is thrilled at the idea of spending Valentine’s Day together in public. Less thrilled at the prospect of Alfie joining, and even less than that at the promise of his friend. But she does agree it’s a smart tactical move—and when she finds out she gets to be excused from classes that day to participate in important palace business, she softens even more.

I collect her from her bedroom carrying a large package wrapped in gold paper. She answers the door in her army-green parka. The one she was wearing at the rugby match where we got to know each other, and the night we kissed in the woods. There’s so many wonderful memories attached to that jacket, seeing it makes me glow.

She noticed my gift instantly, and she looks nervous. “Okay, so, we didn’t really establish this,” she says, “because it’s an uncomfortable topic, but I don’t have a whole lot of money. Like, at all. So when it comes to gifts—”

“I don’t expect a thing,” I say.

“Well, you shouldn’t expect nothing, because I do have something for you. But it’s not going to be something flashy. You didn’t get me something flashy, did you?”

I look down at the box in my hands, and then back up, guiltily. “Define flashy.”

“Awesome,” Danni says, rolling her eyes, but she’s smiling, at least.

“It’s not a car or anything,” I say, following her inside her room.

“Well, thank god!” she cries. “Thank god you didn’t get me a car for Valentine’s Day.”

“You know,” I say, “if I had gotten you a car, you’d be making me feel rather bad about it right now.”

“Not as bad as I’d feel, I promise you. One day soon we are gonna have a chat about what it means to give gifts when you’re in two different tax brack—wait, do you even pay taxes?”

I open my mouth to reply, but she barrels on. “Never mind, it’ll just work me up. Today, I am going to love whatever you got me, because I’m sure it’s really nice, and you put thought into it. And I am going to spend zero time feeling weird about the fact that I couldn’t buy you a gift.”

“Excellent plan,” I say, handing over her present. “Although now I feel as though I’m setting some wild expectations here. I didn’t get you anything even in the realm of a car.”

Or, for that matter, a Vacheron Constantin watch.

“Even better.”

“I don’t like you that much yet,” I add. She sits on the bed with the gift in her lap and shoots me a glare. “Open it,” I urge.