Red- White Royal Blue -

Outside, the lights of London glittered like a minefield. And Alex smiled—a real, unguarded, politically catastrophic smile. He was the First Son. He was red, white, and blue. And he was falling, headfirst, for the prince in the grey suit.

“The cake is not the issue, Alex.” She finally looked up. Her eyes were tired. “The issue is that for six seconds, the world saw the First Son of the United States looking at a British prince like he was the last helicopter out of Saigon.” Red- White Royal Blue

Henry gave him a tight, polite smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “After you, Mr. Claremont-Diaz.” Outside, the lights of London glittered like a minefield

Alex stood in the Oval Office, wishing the Persian rug would swallow him whole. “Mom, I swear, it was an accident. He tripped. I caught him. The cake was a rogue agent.” He was red, white, and blue