Page 93 of Prince of the Palisades

“It’d be rude to deny a prince.”

Mrs. Hayes glares, so I say, “I promise not to burn down your home.”

A stubborn line forms between her brows, the same one Reiss gets. She sighs. “What did you have in mind?”

I roll up my sleeves. “Do you have milk and eggs? Also sugar, flour, and butter? Oh, and a whisk?”

We work side by side, Mrs. Hayes and me. I walk her through the crêpe recipe Papa taught me. Mr. Hayes plays old-school R&B from a Bluetooth speaker. In the entryway, Reiss watches us. Sadly, he’s fully dressed now, but I don’t let that distract me while cooking.

Dinner is noisy. Breakfast at 9:00 p.m. brings out the best in everyone. While spreading Nutella on her crêpe, Mrs. Hayes doesn’t hesitate to recount her sons’ most embarrassing stories. Four-year-old Dominic stripping naked while in a plasticball pit at a friend’s birthday party. Ten-year-old Reiss vomiting over the side of the Pacific Wheel.

Chuckling, Mr. Hayes adds, “We were midair. At the very top! It got all over the poor guy operating the ride.”

“Dad,” Reiss says, pouting. “We’reeating.”

I raise my eyebrows at him until he facepalms, then says, “It’s called acrophobia!”

“It’s called eating too many churros,” Mrs. Hayes corrects, giggling.

I laugh so hard my cheeks ache.

Crammed around the small dinner table, Reiss’s family happily talks over each other. Point accusing forks at one another when a story is told wrong. I love it. But I miss when my own family was this close. Before Papa became king.

Dominic stares up at Ajani, awed. “Have you ever killed anyone?”

Mrs. Hayes gasps. “Dom!”

“No,” Ajani deadpans. I can’t tell if she’s lying. Her poker face is too good.

“You look like a superhero,” Dominic says while chewing.

Ajani’s lips quirk. “Would you like to be an honorary member of Réverie’s Royal Protection Guard?”

Dominic shrugs self-consciously. “I can’t. Everyone says I’m too scared to be a hero.”

Ajani clucks her tongue.

“Every hero is scared of at least one thing,” I say, smiling widely at Dominic. “That’s what makes them super. How can you be brave if you’ve never been afraid?”

Dominic’s face lights up. Mr. Hayes tugs him close.

Across the table, a pair of dark eyes crinkle. I blush, staring at my half-eaten crêpe.

After dinner, Mrs. Hayes refuses to let me help with the dishes. “I have to draw the line somewhere.” While Dominic shows off his drawings to Ajani, Reiss quietly leads me down the hall to his bedroom.

We’re barely inside before his mom yells, “Door stays open!”

“Babe, that’s a prince!” Mr. Hayes hisses.

“A prince who’s also ateenage boywho’s clearly into our son. Don’t tell me you didn’t see the way Reiss looked at him.”

Pink spreads from Reiss’s neck to his ears. “We can hear you!”

“And we can hear you, because the door stays open!”

Mortified, Reiss flops like a dead starfish on his bed.

His room’s nice. Citrus-orange walls peeking from behind film posters. His laptop is collaged in stickers of movie logos and quotes. Hoodies piled on a desk chair. No sign of his sneaker collection, but there are USC brochures and leftover tickets from our trip to Playland Arcade on his bedside table.

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