Wonderful because for the first time in my life I felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be with exactly the right person.

Terrifying because of that last observation.

Exhilarating because after going to my sister’s wedding, exchanging deeply personal information and having sex for the first time, we fell asleep in each other’s arms, which is something that usually sounds good but is actually cramping and uncomfortable and makes getting up to use the bathroom difficult, but in this case, maybe because we couldn’t get enough of each other’s bodies, it worked.

CHAPTER 14

Edgar’s phone started blowing up while we were having breakfast the next morning at IHOP. His face went very pale as he listened and said, “I didn’t know . . . I have no idea . . . Calm down . . . I’ll be right there.”

“What? What’s happening?”

“I’m not quite sure but we need to visit the British Consulate. Immediately.”

The Midtown British Consulate was as stalwart and stuffy as I’d expected, but I didn’t ask Edgar if he stayed there or just used it for meetings, because he’d swung into his Responsible World Leader mode, which I’d only caught glimpses of. He’d become extremely solemn and preoccupied, and I didn’t want to get in his way.

We were ushered into a conference room with mahogany paneling and framed photos of British landmarks, and I tried not to think, Ralph Lauren ad without the sailboats and three-thousand-dollar cashmere sweaters. James was waiting, along with two other people: a man in his fifties wearing a board of trustees–style blue suit and a younger blonde woman in a plum-colored shirtwaist dress, her Liberty of London scarf knotted with military precision.

“Your Highness,” said the man.

“This is Marc Bracegirdle, my grandmother’s equerry,” said Edgar, “and Alison Talbot, the Palace media liaison.”

“I’m Carter,” I said, but before I could add my last name, Alison cut me off: “We know who you are.”

“A situation is developing,” said Marc, “which is causing Her Majesty great concern. It seems that a photo has been released and gone viral with global momentum. A compromising photo of the two of you.”

Shots had already popped up online of Edgar and me kissing along the Hudson with bridesmaid selfies from Abby’s wedding, but Edgar hadn’t appeared to be bothered. “Let me see it,” he told Alison, who offered her tablet with an image of Edgar and me in bed, shirtless and smiling, wearing our Burger King crowns.

“Who took this?” demanded Alison. “And who leaked it?”

“I took it,” I said. “This morning. But I only sent it to Edgar, and there’ve been other pictures of us together, so what’s the problem?”

“This is an extremely intimate portrait,” said Marc.

“The other photos,” added Alison, “were unfortunate, but you were both clothed and in public places. This verges on the pornographic.”