Of course, I was all of these things, but I cautioned myself sternly, Expect nothing. This is a week off, a fun vacation abroad, and that’s it. The second I rated this trip as anything beyond a fling, I’d be fooling myself and attracting the most savage emotional crash. This would be my mantra: protect yourself at all costs. Ruth Ginsburg’s voice advised me, “Be careful, bubbelah, but don’t be a jerk. Have a good time and tell the queen I say hello!”

Okay, I gave myself exactly five seconds to inwardly scream, I’M IN LONDON WITH PRINCE EDGAR AND WE JUST HAD SEX ON HIS PRIVATE JET AND NOW WE’RE HEADED TO HIS HOUSE! FUCK ME! LITERALLY!

“And here we are,” said Edgar as the uniformed sentries kept the onlookers at bay, the huge wrought iron gates swung open and the car glided smoothly across an immense courtyard, right toward:

BUCKINGHAM PALACE!!!

“Stop shouting,” said Ruth.

I had to quit delivering the breathless voice-over for a docu-series called Carter’s English Adventure, and I couldn’t continue leaning on Ruth. But calming my inner spokespeople wouldn’t be easy. My life was a mash-up of live-action fairy tale, queer rom-com and a video game encapsulating elements of both. Abby always told me to keep saying yes, and I was holding on for dear life. Edgar was helping me to stay somewhere in the vicinity of grounded, but what if he was a flickering hologram, a projection of my fantasies who’d vanish once I removed my virtual reality headset?

The car halted outside the stately front entrance as the security team drove in behind us and additional staff members retrieved my luggage, greeted Edgar in respectful, low voices and opened the massive oak doors. This was something else I wasn’t accustomed to: the sheer number of ultraefficient people who facilitated Edgar’s every move. He was like a serene A-list movie idol forever inching toward a soundstage as he was being fussed over by a small army of handlers, assistants and hair and makeup people. Edgar dealt with this constant attention in a spirit of gratitude and common sense, rather than annoyance or vanity. Being famous can be a skill and a contact sport. Edgar had a champion’s ease.

“Shall we?” said Edgar, gesturing to the palace interior, as James said, in my ear, “There are cameras everywhere. Don’t take anything.”