“It’s okay,” I said, refusing to meet his eyes. My lips trembled, and I hated myself for it.
He put the tray on a small table with two chairs next to a window, and I sat down to eat. I focused on buttering my croissant and slathering it with jam, while trying to ignore Julian.
“It is not okay,” he said sitting next to me and leaning forward in his chair. The sunlight caught flecks of gold in his brown eyes.
“Honestly, I’m fine.” I gave him the fakest of all fake smiles. “We were both tired last night. Let’s not talk about it again.”
Julian looked unconvinced, but he picked up a croissant. We sat in silence, nibbling our breakfast, and drinking our coffee as we watched people walking on the street below.
“Marie called,” he said. “The tour guide and the photographer will be here in less than an hour. Are you certain you would still like to go?”
“Of course.” I jumped up and ran to the bathroom with a mouth full of croissant. “I need a second to get ready.”
It took me closer to forty minutes, but I finally emerged from the bathroom, feeling clean, fresh, and significantly happier. I had on a brown herringbone tweed miniskirt with brown stockings and boots. On top, I wore a cream-colored silk sweater with the prettiest silver belt over my waist and a brown leather jacket. It felt as soft as butter to the touch. I’d dried my hair straight after my shower, and it fell, blonde and shiny, well past my shoulders. I had to use more makeup than usual this morning to cover up the dark circles under my eyes, but I still looked pretty good. After popping a pair of tortoiseshell sunglasses on my head, and grabbing a brown faux alligator bag, I was ready to go.
Julian waited patiently at the table by the window, a newspaper in his hands, and his long legs stretched out in front of him. His eyes glowed when he saw me, but I kept hearing the words “selfish, shallow, and vain” in my head. I’d misunderstood him and thought he might be interested in me. I wouldn’t make the same mistake again.
The tour guide, a sweet, older man named Pierre, spoke excellent English and knew everything about Paris. The photographer, Jean-Claude, was neither sweet nor old. Handsome and slender with a devilish twinkle in his dark eyes, he had a pierced eyebrow and tattoos on his forearms. A few years older than Julian, and much smaller in size, he was an absolute flirt and had me giggling and blushing within minutes of meeting him. Julian hated him instantly.
We walked through Paris, followed closely by our team of bodyguards and occasionally jumping into our limousine for places too far away to walk. Pierre showed us the sights and did a remarkable job. Jean-Claude snapped photos and made outrageous comments to me. Julian got angrier and angrier as the morning progressed, but I decided it served him right. Just because he didn’t find me attractive, didn’t mean others could not.
I spent as much time watching Julian’s reactions to Jean-Claude as I did listening to Pierre. Both were equally fascinating. We finished before lunch, with Jean-Claude kissing my hand profusely and promising to get the photos to us soon.
“Could we meet again tonight, Princess Starr?” he asked, grinning. “I could show you the true Parisian nightlife.” He had white teeth, dark hair, and a goatee. He looked a little like a wolf.
I opened my mouth to answer, but Julian beat me to it. “The princess already has plans for this evening.”
Jean-Claude seemed disappointed but kissed my hand again before leaving. Pierre waited until after he had gone to say goodbye.
“It was a pleasure meeting you this morning,” he said, giving me a gallant little bow.
“Thank you for the tour, Pierre. I was so happy to have a chance to see your beautiful city.”
“Yes, and please tell Marie we send our regards,” Julian said. I scowled at him before turning back to Pierre.
“And please tell Marie how much we enjoyed meeting Jean-Claude too.” I gave him a sunny, little smile. Pierre looked confused. Julian made a noise behind me. It sounded a bit like a growl. I ignored him.
We had lunch in a small café Pierre had recommended. I’d bounced back nicely from last night’s trauma, aided along by Jean-Claude’s kind attention, and got a little giddy. I prattled on and on as we ate while Julian sat in stony silence.
“What’s wrong with you?” I finally asked in exasperation.
He glared. “How do you think Adrian would feel if he saw you carrying on with your Frenchman?”
“My Frenchman?” I stared at him in shock. “Why is it any concern of yours?”
“It isn’t,” he said and went back to attacking the delicate slices of roast beef on his plate.
I leaned forward. “Julian, in France, flirting is to be expected. It’s almost like an art form here. It doesn’t mean anything.”
He looked up, his brown eyes hard. “I’m sure Adrian would not feel the same way.”
I blew out a sigh. “You don’t even know Adrian.”
He leaned forward and studied me carefully. “I know Vegonian men, Princess. We do not share our women,” he said sternly.
A thought occurred to me. Usually, boys who made grand comments about women had no experience with women themselves. I suspected the same was true about Julian.
“Have you ever even had a girlfriend?”
He looked away. I’d made him uncomfortable, but I wasn’t letting him off the hook so quickly, and apparently, he realized he’d have to clarify.
“There is someone to whom I am promised.”
“Oh,” I said, my voice soft. I hadn’t expected that. I felt like someone had kicked me in the stomach.
“But it doesn’t matter.” He tilted his head to one side. “We are talking about you and Adrian. I feel I must let you know something; no Vegonian male would tolerate someone like Jean-Claude.”
He practically spat out the words. I leaned forward on the table, folding my hands in front of me. “And I feel I must tell you this is none of your business. Adrian would understand, which is one of the reasons why I like him. So you worry about your girlfriend and leave Adrian to me.” I stood up and waited while Julian paid the bill.
“Once again I have angered you,” he said, as we strolled outside.
I folded my arms across my chest. “It seems to be your new hobby.”
“And once again I must apologize to you.”
“Apologizing seems to be your new hobby too,” I said with a little smile. “Can we make up and be friends?”
Julian offered me his arm. “Let’s go for a walk. You ate an entire cow in there.”
I punched him but took his arm. “If I ate an entire cow, you must have eaten two, Your Grace.”
“But I am twice as big as you,” he said, looking at me and trying not to smile. He didn’t succeed.
We walked through Paris, and I endeavored to store each moment in my memory. Notre Dame, the Champs-Élysées, the Arc de Triumph, Montmartre, and the Seine were now all etched into my mind, and I wanted to keep them there so I could cling to them once I returned to Vega. I said goodbye not only to Paris, but to all the dreams I had growing up in Middleton. A lot had changed since then, including me.
Julian took me to Printemps Haussmann, the epitome of what a department store should be. I bought macaroons for my family at Ladurée and insisted on Julian trying one. The flavors were terrific—pear and chestnut, black forest, red fruits—and the colors were equally as spectacular.
On our way back to the hotel, we ended up at the shop of Patrick Roger, chocolate artisan. “In France, selecting chocolate is an art form in itself,” I explained to Julian.
We tasted several different types before choosing a bar of lovely dark chocolate for my mother. We bought some cream and fruit-filled truffles for ourselves and ate them as soon as we returned to the hotel. We sat on Julian’s bed, which had been neatly folded up while we were gone and was now a couch again, and silently enjoyed the chocolate.
“Ummmm,” I finally said, licking my fingers.
“I agree,” he said. “Did you know chocolate
was originally brought to Earth by Vegonians?”
“Get out.”
He looked confused but seemed to figure out what the expression meant. “I speak the truth. We gave it to the Mayans and taught them how to grow it.”
“Hooray for us.” I leaned back on the couch and patted my belly, pleasantly full of chocolate and a little high from the endorphins the chocolate had released into my bloodstream.
“There are lovely chocolate shops on Vega. I’ll show you them when we get back.”
My happiness deserted me in one fell swoop. We would leave Paris tomorrow. We would leave Earth only days after that, and I would never see any of this again. Suddenly I felt tired.
“I think I’ll take a nap,” I said, and Julian looked at me with concern, but didn’t say anything. “Wake me up in time for dinner.”
I took off my boots and jacket and curled up on my bed. A few minutes later, Julian covered me with a blanket.
“You can lay down with me,” I said with a yawn. “Your bed is all folded up.”
He hesitated for a moment before the mattress dipped slightly under his weight. In spite of my vow never to embarrass myself in front of him again, I snuggled up against his big, warm body and fell asleep within minutes.
I woke up a few hours later. He had his arms wrapped around me, and his cheek rested on top of my head. I’d thrown my legs and arms across his body. My mini skirt was wrapped, almost indecently, around my waist. I gently pulled away from him and stood to adjust my clothing. When I looked up, I saw him watching me.
“Good morning, Princess,” he said, stretching. My large bed looked almost too small for him.
“You mean good evening, Your Grace,” I said, fixing my sweater.
Julian sat up and glanced at his watch. “We have reservations in an hour. Can you be ready?”
“Of course. I’ll be just a second.”
He rolled his eyes. “I have heard those words before.”
A little less than an hour later, I came out of the bathroom. Julian wore his new Valentino suit and looked even more delicious than the chocolate we’d eaten that afternoon. I wore an almost scandalously short cream-colored dress. I twisted my hair on both sides and gathered it into a bun in the back. Simple and yet elegant. Satin high-heeled shoes and a little sequined clutch were all I needed before throwing on a long cream-colored jacket.
Julian’s eyes widened when he noticed the length of my skirt, but he wisely didn’t say anything. He was trying to be on his best behavior, so I decided to do the same.
“You look nice, Julian,” I said, as we rode the elevator to the lobby.
His eyes stayed on my legs. “You look….is your dress supposed to be that short?”
I smacked him with my handbag. “Of course, it is. Don’t be so darned Vegonian,” I said, sucking in my cheeks so I wouldn’t smile.
“I will try,” he said, looking so serious I had to laugh.
“Where are we going tonight?”
He grinned. “It is a surprise.”
“Another one,” I muttered, but he knew how much I enjoyed this.
Dinner was at Le Meurice, one of the grandest and most elegant restaurants in all of Paris. It was opulent, sophisticated, and perfect.
Cream-colored columns edged with gilt stretched to touch the high, lavishly decorated ceilings. Paintings covered the walls as well, and sparkling chandeliers hung throughout the room. It felt like stepping back in time and into a palace. I half expected Marie Antoinette to show up and ask for cake.
We sat near a window, at a table overlooking the Tuileries Gardens. As we sipped champagne and enjoyed a fantastic meal, my eyes kept going to Julian. He seemed comfortable here, as he had in every setting — the mark of a true aristocrat. I touched his hand.
“This is wonderful. Thank you for another perfect memory of Paris, Julian.”
I thought it would make him happy, but he seemed a little troubled. “I’m sorry, Starr.”
I looked at him blankly. “For what?”
“I’m sorry about what you are giving up by coming to live on Vega. I understand a little better now.”
I stared at my lap and played with my napkin while I formulated what I wanted to say. I’d been thinking about it all day, and I knew I had to say something, but wasn’t sure how to do it.
“I have to tell you something.”
“What?” he asked, looking nervous.
I gave him a shaky smile. “Thank you for being my friend. I’ve never had a male friend before. All the boys I went to school with wanted to date me, not be friends with me. I wasn’t sure how to act with you at first, but now I understand,” I said. “I’m going to think of you as the brother I never had.”
“The brother you never had?” He didn’t look pleased, which confused me, and I thought I should explain it further. This was what he wanted, and I had to convince him I wanted it too.
“Yes,” I said firmly. “And it is such a relief to be with someone who has no interest in me at all. I know you have a girlfriend; you know I have a boyfriend, and it is so wonderful we don’t have any romantic feelings for each other, and we can be ourselves and have fun together.”
“It is?”
“Yes,” I said again, lying through my teeth and deep into self-preservation mode at this point. I did have romantic feelings for him. Lots of them. Waking up cozy, safe, and warm in Julian’s arms today had been the icing on the cake. I was falling for him hard, harder than I had ever fallen for anyone before, and I knew he didn’t feel the same way about me at all. I desperately tried to save face in the only way I knew how.
Julian lifted his champagne flute to me, and we clinked our glasses. “To our friendship,” he said, with a strangely unreadable expression on his face. I smiled, but was heartsick inside, and I could never, ever let Julian see it.
Twelve
“Life’s uncertain voyage.” William Shakespeare’s Timon of Athens
Before flying back to Middleton, Julian took me to the Louvre Museum. He let me roam alone past ancient statues and priceless works of art while he followed a few steps behind. I could sense he didn’t want to crowd me, and appreciated it, since I needed this quiet time for myself.
I stopped in front of the Mona Lisa and tilted my head from side to side, trying to figure out what made the painting so special. Julian came up to stand next to me.
“What is this?”
“The Mona Lisa by Leonardo Da Vinci. Her smile has inspired people for hundreds of years.”
“Why?”
I thought about it carefully. “Because it seems to show several emotions all at once. There is something about her expression, something sad and yet wistful. I don’t know what it is, but it stays with you.”
“Do you think she is beautiful?” He looked directly at me and not the painting.
“Not classically beautiful, but there is something about her that is lovely.” I gave him a little smile. “I’ve thanked you so many times already, Julian…”
“So don’t thank me again. Thou art my friend, remember?” I nodded, unsure about why those words made me sad.
Too soon, we arrived back in Middleton, and it was nearly time to go back to Vega. The night before our departure, I sat on the old swing in my backyard like I had with Astra many weeks ago, staring at the stars from a place I would never see them from again.
Julian joined me and sat silently next to me for a long time. When he spoke, his words shocked me so much I nearly fell off the swing.
“If you wish to stay here, Princess Starr, I will not force you to come back with me.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. He looked tired and somehow a lot older than eighteen all of a sudden.
“I no longer feel justified in making you return to Vega. This should be your decision and yours alone,” he said. “I want you to come back, and your parents want you to come back, but you must want it too.”
I stared at him a moment before I answered. “There is nothing for me here,
Julian. I understand now. I love Earth and Paris and my home, and part of me will always miss living here, but I’d never be happy anywhere without my family.”
He heaved a massive sigh of relief so heartfelt I had to laugh. “Thank goodness,” he said, with a little smile. “If I had returned without you, the queen would have been most displeased.”
“Would she have chopped off your head?” I giggled since it was impossible to imagine my gentle mother hurting a fly.
“Her royal consort, your father, may have.” He stared at me in the darkness. “Wilt thou be happy there?”
“Where there is a wilt, there is a way,” I said, making him groan.
“We need to work on your Vegonian.” He put his arm on the swing behind me. It didn’t bother me this time. I leaned back and let myself relax as I enjoyed my last night on Earth.
The trip back to Vega was a lot more crowded, and noisier, than the journey to Earth had been. I stayed in my original room in the Royal Suite, but Julian gave up his place to some little old ladies traveling together. I’d gotten settled in my room when I realized he intended to sleep the entire two weeks of the trip on the tiny couch in the sitting room.
“Julian,” I said, watching him try to make a bed out of the couch. “This is ridiculous.”
He ignored my protests. He still wore the jeans and t-shirt I’d bought for him on Earth. His hair had grown out a bit and curled around his ears. He looked a lot more like an Earth boy now, but he still had his Vegonian Duke-ishness.
“There are many refugees and little space. I shall be fine.”
“But there are two perfectly good beds in my room. Why don’t you sleep in one and I’ll sleep in the other?”
He shook his head. “It would not be appropriate.”
I rolled my eyes. “We slept together in Paris, Julian, in the same bed. What is the big deal?”
His eyes grew huge, and I knew someone was right behind me. I turned to see Captain Augustus standing there with a frown on his face. He didn’t say a word. He simply turned and stomped away.
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