“So,” he said around a mouthful, glancing up at her, “you pretty much know as much as I do about my family now. Tell me more about yours?”
Ugh. Any time Katy allowed herself to really enjoy her time around David, her utter deception managed to make its way back to the surface. How could she keep this up? Especially when David was right: he had let Katy in so close that she basically knew everything that he did about his newfound family. And David knew nothing about her.
Why lie any further? Her lies were catching up to her, for one—but, more importantly, she could do some real good by telling the truth. She could tell David about Mia Cantor so that they could hire her together and begin the search for David’s mother in earnest. And maybe if he knew the truth, without the lies that always came between them, they could get much closer. Something Katy certainly wanted.
The thought brought a surge of guilt back to the surface. But for goodness’ sake! Cassie’s spending the weekend hanging out with another guy in Maine! It wasn’t like she was showing much fidelity to David, keeping her eye out for “other options.” And David clearly had no romantic interest in her, so it wasn’t like there was a chance they’d get together. Katy wasn’t planning to let anything get too far past “friendship” with David—not before she’d had a proper conversation about him with her cousin—but she couldn’t control her feelings. She’d try to find the right moment to finally talk to Cassie when they returned and figure all this out.
Katy let out a soft breath and looked across the table into David’s patient, compassionate eyes. She trusted David fully. And honestly, she was just sick of lying to the people she cared about.
Katy took a sip from her soup. “David,” she said slowly, her eyes on her bowl, “I need to tell you something.”
She glanced up to see David looking slightly concerned. She paused, trying to choose her words carefully.
“My parents,” she went on, “well, they’re . . .”
She stopped again, her gaze on his face, her stomach in knots. Why was this so hard? Because it sounded so unbelievable? Because she shouldn’t be telling him? Because she was risking her education, her freedom, and her quest to prove that she could do things on her own, all because she had a crush on some boy?
But, looking into David’s kind eyes, Katy reminded herself that this wasn’t just about David. It was about Joseph and Cerise and Mary and Jeanine. It was about trust. It was about moving past her old wounds and insecurities and making decisions for herself again.
And David wasn’t just some boy.
“Whatever it is,” he said, sensing Katy’s reticence, “you can trust me, Katy.”
Katy nodded. She did.
“My parents are actually from Lorria,” Katy said, steadying her voice.
“So, you’re not French?” David asked. Katy was relieved that he seemed curious, rather than angry that she had lied.
“No,” she replied, shaking her head. “And I’ve never lived in California.”
David nodded. “Explains the accent,” he said with an encouraging smile.
Katy smiled in return, though the smile felt nervous, since she was still unsure how to continue.
“So, if you don’t mind me asking, why does everyone think you’re French? Did Lorria exile all of their filmmakers or something?” he asked, a puzzled grin on his face.
“My parents don’t actually work in film,” she replied. “They’re in politics.”
Nice one, Katy. Just get on with it already!
“I don’t understand,” David said. “Did they go into hiding? You can tell me, Katy.”
“No, they’re still there,” she replied. “They’re . . . well, they’re . . .” Katy took a deep breath. “David, my parents are the king and queen of Lorria.”
David blinked.
Katy picked up her glass and took a drink from it, just to escape his uncomprehending stare for a moment.
“So, wouldn’t that make you . . .” he started, trailing off.
Katy looked up at him again. “Yes. A princess.”
26
David
David stared at Katy silently, waiting for her to crack a smile. When she didn’t, he paused to admire her deadpan delivery. It certainly was a random joke. But, alas, it had pulled him in briefly.
David chuckled. “All right,” he said, turning back to his latkes. He had eaten a considerable amount already, but it looked like he’d barely put a dent in the pile. It was a ridiculous amount of food.
“All right, what?” Katy echoed.
“You got me,” David replied. “I was sucked in for a second there, I’ll admit.”
He looked back up at Katy and grinned, embarrassed, but she wasn’t laughing or smiling back.
“I’m serious,” Katy said.
David felt his grin fade, and he put his hands on the table, feeling uncomfortable. If this was some kind of performance piece or practical joke, it was getting a little long-winded for his taste.
“David, really,” the girl across from him went on, “I’m telling the truth. Trust me, it took a lot for me to work up the courage to tell you. And I need you to keep this strictly confidential.”
David shook his head. What she was saying made no sense. “Katy, I’m sorry. If this is some sort of prank, then I have to admit that I’m not really getting it.”
Katy had stopped looking nervous and started looking exasperated. But then her eyes glanced beyond David and homed in on something. She abruptly stood, slid from the booth, and walked away.
“Katy?” David asked. But she kept on walking, right to the front of the deli. Was she leaving? Had he offended her? Now David was supremely confused.
She stopped before she got to the door and began to rifle through a pile of magazines sitting on a small table between two chairs that must’ve served as a waiting area. David watched dumbly as Katy slid magazines around the table, then seemed to find what she was looking for. She walked back to David and threw a magazine on the table between them.
“Look,” she said. Still standing, she pointed at a small picture in the corner of the front cover. It showed a blonde woman with dark sunglasses on, shielding her face from the sun. It was a blurry shot that looked like it had been zoomed in on from a distance. David didn’t recognize the woman; she seemed too blurry to be proof of anything. Beneath the picture, a cover line read: Missing Princess Spotted in Morocco?
“Who is this?” David asked.
Katy sat. “I have no idea. But I’m that missing princess. The princess of Lorria. They’re looking for me. Luckily for me, they’re not doing very well.”
David looked up at Katy again, trying to force his brain to function. What did he know about Lorria? It was a tiny country with a massive gross domestic product, famed for its wealth. It had great chocolate and a famously sketchy bank that quite a few international billionaires took advantage of. He knew it had a monarchy and recalled vaguely some talk in London about a socialite princess—perhaps he could dimly remember seeing some of these headlines himself and paying them little mind. But this was too weird. I mean, it’s Katy! She was his friend from Harvard. She loved Shakespeare and she baked to blow off steam and her parents worked in film and . . .
Well, and she had a weird accent that he’d never been able to place, an accent that popped up at the oddest of times. And she shut down any time he tried to learn more about her parents or her past, as though every time it caught her off guard. And her every mannerism was regal; her very bearing always screamed class and dignity. And . . . back when she was just Window Girl, he could’ve sworn he recognized her face from somewhere.
Oh, wow.
“Princess?” David asked again, this time addressing Katy by her . . . title. He felt like he was trying it on her to see if it’d fit.
“Don’t you dare start referring to me like that,” Katy replied, in a way that was clearly only half-joking. Did she really think he might start doing that? Was that . . . normal for her?
The waitress walked over, unsmiling as usual. “Cheesecake? Coffee?”
“Both, please. Cream and sugar for me,” Katy replied quickly.
The waitress turned expectantly toward David.
“Umm,” he said, trying to clear his head. Now he was the one stumbling over his order. How could he think of food right now? “Black, please.”
When the waitress walked away again, Katy clasped her hands together on top of the table. She was looking at David nervously, fidgeting a little, biting her lip.
“I’m sorry I lied to you,” she said, looking down, her voice soft. “I wanted to tell you, David. Truly. I just . . . I didn’t want to risk my freedom at Harvard. This is the first time I’ve ever been able to be myself, not just some talentless celebrity to be gawked at. I didn’t want to risk anyone finding out.”
David nodded, his eyes still wide. He felt like Katy wanted him to say something—anything—but no words came to him. Katy went on after a long pause.
“But I’m still Katy,” she said. “Actually, technically I’m Katerina. But I really go by Katy! And I haven’t lied about the person I am, the things I love. When we hang out, that’s really me. Maybe it’s more me than I usually get to be. I only lied about . . . well, everything else.”
David seemed to consider it all for a moment. “So Cassie didn’t really grow up with you? Did you just meet her at Harvard? Or . . . is she from Lorria too?”
Katy sighed and nodded slowly, her eyes nervous as she watched him processing. “She is. She’s also using a cover story. To help me.” Katy’s face softened with emotion as she went on. “We did grow up together, though . . . and I really do think of her as my best friend. Actually, we’re cousins.”
Best friends and cousins with the Lorrellian princess? Maybe that explained Cassie’s big protective streak.
The waitress returned with a towering slice of cheesecake dripping with strawberry sauce and two steaming mugs of coffee. She set them down on the table and walked off again.
Katy immediately grabbed a spoon and carved off a massive scoop of the thick dessert.
“Rage-bake and nervous-eat,” she quipped before stuffing the cheesecake into her mouth.
David chuckled. He still wasn’t sure what to think, of course, but . . . if she was telling the truth now, the Katy he had sat down with at the deli was still the Katy who was demolishing cheesecake now. A couple of extra syllables in her name couldn’t change that.
And neither could a crown. Or political power. Or immense riches. Or celebrity. Or—
Actually, maybe he shouldn’t think too hard about it.
But David understood. After all, didn’t he try to keep certain details about his past quiet as well, to avoid people thinking of him as a sob story? Didn’t he also know what it felt like to be judged unfairly and feel guarded because of it?
Katy looked up, her mouth full. She swallowed.
“So, are we okay?” she asked haltingly.
“Things are a little more bizarre than they were five minutes ago,” David said honestly. “But of course we’re okay. I just needed a bit to process it all.”
“And you’re not going to tell?”
“Never,” David replied. That he was sure about. “Big or small, I would never spill your secrets. I take your trust very seriously.”
Katy dug into the cheesecake again, looking down. “So . . . you’re not mad, then? That I didn’t tell you the truth originally?”
She must still be nervous. If this really was true, then it must have been a big leap for her to tell him. And David was honored by that. He reached across the table, laying his hand on hers and steadying that destructive spoon. She looked up at him.
“I totally understand,” David said firmly. “And I’m honored that you’re sharing this with me now.”
Katy’s eyes softened, and her shoulders relaxed for the first time since she had told him the truth of her identity. David patted her hand, wobbling the cheesecake on its metal precipice. Then he grabbed a spoon himself and took a bite.
They sat quietly for several seconds, finishing their dessert and sipping their coffees. David wanted to assure her that everything was okay. He could sense that she was still nervous and unsure about everything that had transpired between them over just a few short minutes. But, truth be told, he was still a little too caught up in his own thoughts for that. First he’d found out that he had a biological family, and now this? It had been a whirlwind few days.
So no one spoke until the check came. Dutifully, without really thinking, David grabbed it.
“No,” Katy protested.
David shook his head gently. He wasn’t one to let a guest pay for their meal, regardless of gender. It was part of how his adoptive parents raised him.
But Katy pulled out her wallet.
“Katy, don’t worry—” David began. But she cut him off.
“Look, David. Now that you know, there’s no point in pretending anymore. I have more money than I could ever spend. And if you can’t let me pay for a couple of sandwiches and some cheesecake, then you’re definitely not going to like what’s coming next.”
Taken aback by Katy’s sudden burst of assertiveness, David didn’t argue when she reached over and snatched the bill. The credit card she lay down looked luxurious, the kind that has the dark color and unnecessary heft meant to signal an impressive bank account. When the waitress came back to pick it up, she offered her first smile of the entire meal.
“I didn’t just tell you to clear my conscience, David,” Katy said once they were alone again, her voice sounding stronger. “I told you because I want to help, and I want you to understand that I have the means to do it. Which means no arguing.”
“Katy, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” David said. Help? Help how?
“I want to help you and your family find Jeanine,” Katy said, her bright green eyes boring straight into his.
David couldn’t help but stare at her for a moment. His heart ached with gratitude. First, Katy had cared for him enough to accompany him to New York City. Then she’d trusted him enough to share her deepest secret. And now she wanted to help him find his mother? It struck him suddenly just how much Katy meant to him, and how much he must mean to her, if she was willing to do all this just for him. But—
“But I have no idea where to start,” he said to her, not trying to hide the sorrow that came with his gratitude. “All I know is that she lived in New York City and traveled to South America before she disappeared. And if her sister knew all that and more and still couldn’t find her . . .”
“Your cousins said they hired a bad PI,” Katy interjected. “But a good PI can figure things out with even the slightest of details. And I happen to know a really good PI.”
David felt his eyes widen again. But, as he started to understand exactly what Katy was saying, his brow furrowed.
“Katy,” he said firmly, “I can’t allow you to spend that kind of money on me.” It didn’t matter how little it affected her. It wouldn’t be right to accept such a monumental gift, especially if he didn’t know when—or if—he’d be able to pay her back.
“Then I won’t spend it on you,” Katy retorted. “I’ll spend it on Mary, for her birthday.”
David laughed, but he was still feeling anxious. “Katy—”
“David, please. Just let me help. I’m not just doing it for you.”
That stopped David’s worried thoughts. She was right. He could protest a gift for himself, but what right did he have to try to turn down a gift that would undoubtedly also mean a lot to his cousins and his aunt? Especially when Mary might not have time to waste.
“I can’t thank you enough,” he finally conceded. “I’ll . . . I’ll never be able to thank you properly for this.”
“Just don’t sell a story to the paparazzi about me, and we’ll call it even,” Katy said, but he could tell she was joking by the twist in her mouth, the trust radiating from her eyes.
David smiled, pl
aying along. “How much do they pay for that kind of thing?”
“So not funny,” Katy replied. But she chuckled anyway.
* * *
“How was the deli?” Cerise asked cheerfully as she opened the door for them.
“Full of surprises,” David replied, shooting Katy a sideways glance.
His cousin shut the door behind them and walked back into the living room. “Got some bad news from Joseph. He said to have dinner without him, since he has to stay late. Said he was really sorry.”
“Oh, I hate to hear that,” Katy said. “But we completely understand.”
We. No wonder Cerise didn’t buy the “just friends” thing—he’d seen it in her skeptical glances and comments. Now, however, it really hit him how very much like a couple he and Katy had been acting during, well, the entire trip.
“Yeah, well, I tried to tell him I’d help more. Get a part-time job or something,” Cerise replied over her shoulder, still talking about Joseph no matter how David’s mind had wandered. “But he said college comes first.”
“He’s right about that,” David ventured.
“I used to think the same thing,” Cerise said. “But Joseph works twenty-four seven. I don’t think he’s ever home. What’s the point of getting a degree if that’s the end goal?”
David couldn’t deny that he understood that sentiment, too.
“What do you want to do with your degree, Cerise?” Katy asked.
Cerise smiled wistfully. “I want to be a teacher. Joseph said they don’t make enough money, but I don’t care about that.”
David hated to hear that Joseph was so worried about money. And he must’ve been incredibly overworked if he couldn’t even take one weekend off. But, remembering how nice Mary’s hospital had been, David understood why it was necessary. That place couldn’t be cheap.
“I was going to make dinner tonight,” Cerise went on. “But with Joseph being gone, would you guys mind if we do takeout again? There’s a curry place nearby. Or we could do burgers. Italian. Pretty much anything you could want, really.”
A Love that Endures Page 22
