Zara cuddled into Noah’s side as the sun sank lower and lower into the ocean. The wind really whipped out here, and she was glad she’d grabbed a hoodie from her bedroom before they’d left. At least her hair wasn’t flying out of control this time.
She’d decided to start with a text to Krisha, just to see what the family’s plans were in the near future. That had turned into quite the texting marathon, and finally Zara shoved her phone in her pocket.
“Krisha knows something’s afoot.”
Noah burst out laughing, the sound joyful and his chest vibrating with the strength of it. “Afoot?” He snorted as he started laughing again, and that got Zara laughing too.
He kneaded her closer, and she thought back over the past few weeks in the mansion with him. She’d been terrified that Petra—his mother—would ask for her money back. But she’d never asked if Noah had met the house sitter or not. She’d never asked if Zara had run into Noah.
Of course, he hadn’t told them about her yet. Every time she thought about that, her chest pinched a little. But he’d explained why, and she didn’t want him to be dragged halfway around the world by royal security. Or give back her house-sitting fee.
He’d made every phone call in private, either while she was at work or behind his closed bedroom door. But she believed everything he reported to her. Apparently, it was a much bigger deal for him to leave the country than either of them had thought.
The longer the drama dragged on, the more remote the possibility seemed that Noah would be able to move here. He’d said he’d start looking for a place of his own on the island, as his parents still visited Getaway Bay a couple of times a year. He thought that might sway them to allow him to relocate permanently.
To her knowledge, he had not looked for a place of his own, but she didn’t care. If she thought the house was huge with him and Boomer there, she couldn’t imagine how it would feel if they weren’t.
“What else did she say?” Noah asked, bringing Zara back to this moment on the beach. This sunset. This breath. Zara spent so much time thinking about tomorrow—her next show. Her next paycheck. Her next boyfriend.
As she’d gotten to know Noah over the past month, she’d realized that she wasn’t living right now. And she wanted to change that.
“She said she thinks everyone will be at the restaurant tomorrow. As far as she knows, all the sisters are scheduled to work, and Mom and Dad eat there ninety-nine percent of the time.”
“So we can go.”
Zara drew in a deep breath, admiring the pink and purple among the gold and navy in the sky. “Yes,” she said. “We can go tomorrow.” She just wished she didn’t feel like she was marching Noah up the side of a volcano and sacrificing him to the gods.
It’s not that bad, she told herself. Her sisters would be nice, at least. Yes, some were more traditional than others, but they generally supported one another.
Noah ran his thumb up and down her arm, and she tuned in to the fact that he had some nervous energy of his own. “Are you worried about meeting them?” she asked.
“Five sisters and your parents in one go? Grandparents, aunts, uncles, the whole shebang?” He chuckled and added, “Nah. Should be easy. Nothing to it.”
“You’re such a liar,” she said, giggling. “And look who’s using outlandish words now. Shebang?”
Noah chuckled too, and Zara melted into the sound of his voice. Several moments passed, and then he said, “Of course, I’m nervous about it, Zara,” his voice soft and sober now.
She pushed away from his chest and looked at him. “Really? Why?”
“I don’t know.” He watched the horizon line, and Zara couldn’t read the emotion in his eyes.
“You’re a prince,” she said. “If anyone should be nervous or worried about not meeting expectations, it should be me.”
“I’m just a regular guy,” he said, something he’d told her a few times over the past few weeks. Zara knew that. Well, deep down inside she knew he was just a normal man. But there was something kingly and royal about him she didn’t think just anyone could learn.
“Should I go buy a new suit tomorrow?” he asked.
“Do you even have a suit here?” she asked.
“No.”
“Then, yes,” she said. “You should go buy a new suit tomorrow.”
“Great,” he said, seemingly glad for the opportunity. “At least I’ll be able to get out of the house.”
Zara giggled, but she knew the walls of the mansion trapped Noah from time to time. He didn’t go volunteer at Your Tidal Forever every day, and while he rode in the front seat now, he wasn’t exactly traipsing all over the island either.
She watched him, this handsome man that had come into her life unexpectedly. No, they had not gotten along in the beginning. But as she learned more about him and as she shared more about her, her heart had opened to the possibility of a real future with him.
“Thanks for doing that,” she said, lifting up to kiss him. He received her willingly, and she sent a prayer up to whoever was listening that her family would accept Noah.
That seemed a bit far-fetched, so she amended her plea to just be, Let them be kind to him, and snuggled back into Noah’s side to watch the night steal the last breath from the day.
The following evening, Zara twisted and turned and looked at herself in the nicest dress she wore. She should probably be dressed in her nicest sari, but something about it felt false. Almost like she’d be manipulating her mother by wearing such traditional clothes.
She pulled on the hemline of the black fabric, sure it had always fallen a little lower than it currently was. She’d steamed it, and it fell down the lines of her body nicely, but would it be modest enough for her mother?
“I don’t know why you care,” she muttered to herself. Over the past decade, Zara had blazed her own path, unconcerned about her parents’ feelings. But that wasn’t entirely true, and she knew it. She did care about them, and how they felt, and her cultural traditions. She simply wanted to be her too, and her family still loved her.
She fluffed her hair one more time and deemed herself as good as she was going to get. Her heels clicked on the marble hallway as she made her way into the kitchen. Noah wasn’t there, which meant he was probably twisting to look in a mirror and tugging at something to make it lay right.
She opened the fridge and promptly closed it again. She was starving, but they were eating at Indian House. With the way her stomach vibrated with nervous energy, she wasn’t sure how much she’d actually be able to eat.
Noah’s footsteps finally echoed off the steps, and he came into the kitchen a few seconds later. Zara froze, the breath in her lungs absolutely solidifying at the sight before her. If she’d thought he was good-looking before, she now had a new definition for the term.
He wore a suit the color of midnight, and it fit his frame perfectly. His shirt held the color of a pale winter sky, and his tie had pink, blue, and yellow checks among the black.
“How do I look?” he asked, as if he didn’t know he was the best-looking man on the planet.
Zara stared, sure this man was not her boyfriend. He seemed so far above her, and her self-confidence took a nose-dive.
“Zara?” he asked, stepping toward her. He smelled like musky cologne and soap, with a hint of mint from his toothpaste, and Zara wanted to breathe him in, hold him tight, and kiss him senseless.
He touched her elbow, unfreezing her, and she managed to say, “You look great,” in a throaty voice. She cleared her throat and grabbed her purse from the kitchen counter. “Should we go?”
With a curious look on his face, he said, “Sure. Can I drive?”
She stalled in her flight toward the garage. “Do you remember how?”
“Ha ha,” he said. “You think you’re so funny.”
“Well, you never drive, and you said even in Triguard, you’d get chauffeured around.” She threw him a playful smile, hoping that would somehow elevate her to his status. But it was hopeless. A synchronized swimmer had no business being with a prince. “I’m just trying to make sure I don’t die tonight.”
Though she did risk her life with her car every time she got in it, as she still hadn’t had a second of time to get it looked at or fixed. It kept starting, though, so that was something.
“You won’t die.” He put his hand on her back and guided her into the garage, grabbing the keys that had literally hung on the hook beside the door for a solid month.
She sank into his sports car—a rental he seemed to need to take up space in the garage—and adjusted her skirt while he settled behind the wheel. She buckled her seatbelt and cut him a quick look out of the corner of her eye.
He seemed utterly nonplussed, like he remembered where all the important pedals and switches were, and he backed out of the garage just fine.
Zara squinted into the bright sunlight and reached into her purse for her sunglasses. With someone else navigating the twisty roads, Zara simply enjoyed the sunshine and the way it glinted off the ocean in the distance.
Once they made it down to the town, she directed him down Main Street to Indian House. The parking lot was full, and every cell in her body rioted. Neither of them had said much on the drive down, and Zara took a few steadying breaths while Noah parked the car.
“Ready?” he asked, and while every stitch of him was in the perfect place, she could see the anxiety in his eyes. Somehow, it brought her comfort, and she nodded.
“Ready.” She got out of the car, and Noah arrived on her side to close the door and link his fingers through hers.
“They’re just people,” he said as they walked toward the entrance. “We’re people. It’ll be fine.”
“Is this your speech to yourself?” she asked.
“I mean, yeah,” he said. “I haven’t eaten all day, and I feel like I’m going to faint. My brain isn’t working totally, so yeah. This is the best I’ve got right now.”
“Why didn’t you eat something?”
“Too nervous.” He reached for the door and pulled it open to let out a blast of Indian music. Three or four couples waited in the area in front of the podium, and Abi looked up, a harried look on her face.
When she saw Zara, her smile erased the stress. “Zara,” she said as if Zara could cure the crazy currently happening inside the restaurant. But it looked like a tour bus of Japanese travelers had arrived for dinner, and the whole place was packed.
Abi’s eyes flickered to Noah. “Let me tell Mom and Dad you’re here. They haven’t taken dinner yet.”
“Busy,” Zara said, and Abi ran off. She turned back to Noah. “Maybe we should go. Try another night when things aren’t so hectic here.” She looked up at him, but he surveyed the restaurant, his dark eyes sharp and taking in every detail.
“Can’t do it,” he murmured, nodding toward something behind her. “Here come your parents now.”
Zara spun around, her heart thrashing inside her chest. Sure enough, her mother and father were navigating through the restaurant toward them. Noah’s hand slipped into hers and squeezed, and Zara tried to swallow.
Her throat stuck to itself, but she moved forward anyway. This was not the introduction she’d envisioned, and she hurried to press her hands together and say, “Namaste.” Then she said, “Mother, we can reschedule.”
“Nonsense, nonsense,” her mom said, her eyes drifting past Zara to Noah. It wasn’t like Zara could conceal him.
“You’re terribly busy tonight,” Zara said, tugging Noah to her side. “Really, we can do this another time.”
“Nani and Dadi have a corner booth,” her father said, nodding to Zara. “Come with.”
“Come with,” her mother said, gesturing with her hands. Always the hands.
Zara swallowed, a little moisture in her mouth now, and looked up at Noah.
“Let’s go with, sweetheart,” he said, barely loud enough for her to hear. And she really had no other choice. She went with.
She bowed to her grandparents, who watched Noah like he was a fascinating film. He was much taller than anyone else, and she finally stepped back and said, “This is Noah Wales, His Royal Highness, Prince of Triguard.”
Her words hung in the air, and she could tell her family had not been expecting that. She’d asked Noah how he’d have been introduced in his country, and she’d written down the words and memorized them.
“It’s just Noah,” he said with a smile, reaching to shake her father’s hand. He pulled it back quickly and instead pressed his palms together, his fingertips at exactly chin-level, and nodded. “Namaste. Nice to meet you, sir.”
Her father bowed too, and said, “I’m Samir. Please sit down.”
Noah bowed to her mother first, and he looked so odd performing the Indian customs she’d grown up with. At the same time, he seemed perfectly natural doing them, and she felt herself falling a little bit farther toward being in love with him.
Which seemed impossible. She’d only known him for a month, and there was still so much to learn about him. But what she did know, she liked.
“Sit,” her mother said, and Zara slid into the booth, realizing that once her mother and father joined them, she and Noah would be sandwiched in the middle. No way out.
She kept her smile in place, and spoke to Dadi, her mother’s father about her upcoming show.
“Your sisters can’t join us tonight,” her father said. “But we’ll have a celebration at the house soon.”
Zara exchanged a glance with Noah. “Oh, we don’t need to do that. We’re not engaged, Dad.”
“Are you really a prince?” her father asked, and Zara’s gaze whipped back to Noah’s.
“Yes, sir,” he said. “Triguard is a tiny island off the coast of Italy. My father’s king there, and my older brother, Damien, is set to rule one day.”
“So you will not rule,” her mother said.
“No, ma’am,” he said, taking Zara’s hand on top of the table, right in front of everyone. She was surprised her skin didn’t incinerate with the way everyone looked at their joined fingers. “Barring an accident where every member of my family is killed, I won’t rule. In fact, I’m probably going to move to Getaway Bay permanently.” He lifted his arm around Zara’s shoulders and smiled at her.
Her mother’s eyebrows went up, as did everyone else’s at the table. “You can’t move?” she asked.
“Not without permission.” He reached for the glass of water in front of him and drank from it properly. He’d had some serious training in entertaining or etiquette, and Zara had never seen this side of him before.
He was charming, and dashing, and absolutely everything he needed to be to satisfy her parents. Auntie Tanvi appeared and swept her eyes around the group. “Family tray?” she asked, her eyes landing and staying on Zara.
Her father nodded and said, “Yes, Auntie,” and Tanvi left. She wasn’t really related to them, but she’d been a family friend for decades, and Zara had grown up calling her auntie. In most social situations, she’d expect her parents to ask Noah questions, but they just sat there, looking at him. She couldn’t tell if they were star-struck or just nervous.
“So the show is coming along well,” she said to get the conversation started. “We open in eight days.”
No one said anything, and Zara felt this evening slipping away from her. Out of her control. And crashing fast. Her mind blanked, and she couldn’t think of a single way to salvage this conversation, this meal, this relationship.