Page 69 of Once Upon A Royal Christmas
No matter how many times Gracie protested, people kept calling him that. She was starting to get used to it.
“I can’t say that I have. But I’ve eaten my fair share of cinnamon rolls, so I’m betting I’ll be pretty good at this.” Nick grinned.
Gracie’s great-grandmother’s cinnamon rolls had been a Christmas morning tradition for as long as she could remember. After her great-grandmother had passed away, her grandma had taken over, rolling out the dough late every Christmas Eve so it could rise overnight.
A few years ago, after her grandmother died, her mom had taken up the tradition and it had become a family affair, with everyone chipping in on the process. Helping form the dough into soft spirals and inhaling the familiar, comforting scents of cardamom, vanilla, and warm brown butter was Gracie’s favorite part of Christmas morning. A cherished holiday ritual.
And now she was sharing that tradition with Nick.
“I can ladle soup with the best of them, but baking is new to me,” he said as he tied one of Ingrid’s frilly Christmas aprons around his waist.
Gracie bit back a smile. He looked ridiculous, albeit in an adorable sort of way. “I suppose you haven’t had much of an occasion to bake. You really don’t know what you’re missing.”
His forehead creased. “I don’t?”
Gracie shook her head as she began getting the ingredients together and lining them up on the kitchen island. “Nothing beats making a pan of brownies when you’re home alone on a Friday night.”
“Does that happen often?” Nick asked.
“Making brownies?” Gracie glanced at him and paused when she realized his expression had gone soulful—just like the way he’d looked at her in the photograph from the Christmas tree maze.
“Finding yourself home alone on a Friday night.”
Their eyes met, and Gracie forgot how to breathe for a second.
This was new. They’d spent so much time together this week, but they’d never had a direct conversation about either one of their dating lives. It felt like they’d been dancing around the topic for days. Sure, they’d talked about Philip and Sarah Jane, but those discussions had been in the past tense. Gracie had no idea if Nick dated or if he had plans to marry someday.
Surely he would, eventually. He probably felt immense pressure to do it. Wasn’t marrying a princess and raising an heir and a spare a crucial part of being a prince?
“There aren’t that many children’s parties on Friday nights,” she said, failing to directly address the question. She wasn’t sure she was ready to admit to making brownies from a box and binge-watching Fairy Tale I Do while he was probably waltzing his way across Europe. “What about you?”
She tried not to look at him, measuring the sugar with excruciating care so he wouldn’t notice she was holding her breath.
“Oh, I’m never home alone on Friday nights,” Nick said.
“Never?” Gracie’s stomach clenched. “Wow.”
He gave her a shoulder bump, prompting her to glance up and meet his gaze.
“I’ve got Mittens to keep me company.” Nick winked.
Gracie couldn’t stop the smile that came to her lips. Relief flowed through her, although she wasn’t even sure why. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve. This would be the last Friday night she’d ever spend with His Royal Highness, Prince Nicolas of San Glacera. What he did with the rest of his Friday nights—the rest of his life, even—was none of her concern.
“Hey,” Nick said softly. “You disappeared for a minute. Where’d you go?”
Gracie shrugged. “I guess I was just thinking about home.”
He took the measuring cup from her hand and poured the sugar into the mixing bowl. “Do you miss it?”
“I kind of do.” She felt bad admitting it. This week had been like a dream, and she didn’t want him to think she wasn’t grateful for the experience. “Not so much the place, though. I meant my family. This is the first Christmas I haven’t spent with my mom and dad.”
“I suppose that makes baking these cinnamon rolls bittersweet, then?”
“A little bit,” she admitted. But if she was going to make them with anyone other than her family, she was glad it was with him. “I love that we’re doing this, though. I wanted to do something special to help Ingrid and Max with Advent Night, and nothing’s more special than this. Thank you for suggesting it.”
“My pleasure. You spoke so fondly of the tradition. I thought it would be nice to bring a little bit of a Clark family Christmas to San Glacera. You’ve been so gracious about taking part in our holiday customs.” He pressed a hand to his heart. “I’m eager to experience one of yours.”
“I hate to tell you this, but you’re off to a messy start.” She pointed at his chest, where he’d just left a perfect flour handprint on his fancy pressed dress shirt.
