“Truer words were never spoken,” Ollie sings as he moves past me without a second glance.
For the love of Margaret Thatcher.
“Are you ready to explain what this is all about, Aiden?” Freddie asks, appearing by my side.
“Well, Freddie, since soon your allegiance will be first and foremost to your wife, I thought it might be nice to have one last getaway with your brothers,” Aiden replies before taking Freddie’s bag from his shoulder. I clear my throat. “And with our Aly, of course.”
“To be fair, there were a good few years before puberty hit where the princes probably thought of you as their brother,” Liam teases, taking Freddie’s bag from Aiden. He’s not quick enough this time to stop me from landing a soft punch right in the gut.
A prim and proper lady is right under scholar on the long list of things I will never be. If the universe wanted that from me, I would have ended up in a family that valued the ballet over bloodied and muddied futbol matches.
“Definitely need better security,” I sass as Liam doubles over coughing.
I follow behind as Aiden and Freddie climb into the car. “Where are we going?” Freddie asks.
“Craigowen Lodge,” Aiden replies.
“Aly’s favorite,” says Freddie.
As I get into the car, I take note that the only empty seat is next to Aiden. Even though he’s not looking at me, I watch as Ollie takes a deep breath. “Aly, will you take my seat?” Freddie asks. “You know how Ollie always falls asleep five minutes into a car ride, and you’re the only one who can put up with his snoring without trying to kill him.” I manage a small smile and nod as Freddie moves next to Aiden, and I sit down beside Ollie.
Aiden and Freddie busy themselves talking about the wedding as Liam drives us to the airport. Ollie’s so quiet next to me, that when I finally find enough courage to look over at him, I half expect him to be asleep. Instead, he stares blankly out the window. I sigh as I lean my head back against my seat.
The problem with being unsure of what I want with Oliver is it makes everything unsure. Our friendship. His relationship with Aiden. It isn’t fair to keep all of us in limbo, but it also isn’t right to pretend like I feel otherwise.
But that doesn’t mean I like seeing what my uncertainty is doing to Ollie.
I reach over and take his hand in mine. I wait for him to pull away and turn his back on me. Instead, he interlaces his fingers with mine. I don’t think twice about how easy it would be for Aiden or Freddie to look over and see us holding hands. All I can think about is that I don’t like to see Ollie hurting. That’s all that matters.
…
“I’m all about some good old-fashioned family bonding, but couldn’t you have brought a few servants?” Ollie asks, plopping down next to me on the couch.
“Are you afraid you might have to roll up your sleeves and do a little work?” Aiden challenges as he stares down intensely at the chessboard that sits between him and Freddie.
“More like he’s afraid he’s going to have to pour his own whiskey,” I tease, knocking my knee into Ollie’s.
“No need to have someone pour it for me,” Ollie counters, knocking his knee back into mine. “Especially when I can just drink it straight.” He reaches down and pulls a bottle out from underneath the couch. “Freddie?” he asks, tilting it in his brother’s direction.
“Oh, no. No way,” he replies, vigorously shaking his head. “I think I’m still traumatized from my stag party. I’ll stick with chess this evening.”
“Aiden?” Ollie asks, though with a little less enthusiasm this time around.
“I think I’ll follow the lead of the smartest Dudley son,” Aiden replies as he moves a chess piece.
“You finally have a break, and you’re going to waste it playing chess?” Ollie asks, shaking his head.
“You sure you want to make that move? Wouldn’t it be easier to just let me win?” Freddie jokes.
“Ryans?” Ollie asks, turning his gaze my way. There’s something about the way he says my name…like there’s all sorts of questions beneath the surface. I run a hand down my hair, and the side of Ollie’s mouth twitches. He untwists the cap before holding the bottle out toward me.
I lick at my lips. Ollie scoots a little closer to me on the couch. I start to breathe a little heavier. “Just a taste?” he tempts me, his voice low. My hand reaches up, fingers grazing the bottle, but then I pull back.
Getting wildly drunk with Ollie would be a monumental mistake. I want him. There’s no point in denying that anymore. Sometimes when he looks at me, like the way he just did, I want him in the most ungovernable ways. Animalistic. Man and woman.
“I think I’ll just enjoy the battle royale,” I reply, my voice a bit shaky.
Ollie clenches his jaw and narrows his eyes at me. I look away, unable to bear the way they threaten to expose me.
“So that’s how we’re going to spend our last weekend together?” Ollie asks. “Sitting around staring at each other and playing chess?”
“What would you have us do?” Aiden asks. He sits back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest.
Ollie bolts up from the couch. “I don’t know. Something. Anything. Just not this. It’s our last weekend of freedom together,” he says before taking a long swig of the whiskey. He looks down at me, furrowing his brow. “After this, nothing will ever be the same.”
Oh, Ollie.
What are we doing?
“Nothing’s going to change simply because I’m getting married, Oliver,” Freddie says gently.
“Won’t it?” Ollie asks, rounding on his brother. “You’ll be married, mate. You’ll start a family. You’ll become the king, Aiden.”
The room falls silent as we all look at one another. Ollie is right. After the wedding, things will be different. I thought that when I left, the bond between us all had been destroyed, but it hadn’t. Just suspended for a bit. But we are all grown up now. It’s the end of something. None of us can deny that. Perhaps that’s why things have gotten so messy—we sensed it coming.
The beginning of the end.
“What do you have in mind?” Aiden asks.
“I don’t know. Maybe a game?” Ollie shrugs, running a hand through his hair. Cool, calm, collected Ollie is gone. As if his words are affecting him more than his audience. He brings the bottle back up to his lips, taking another long, deep drink.
“Do you know any games, Aly? Some sort of American one? Maybe from your time at uni?” Freddie asks me.
I raise an eyebrow. “You want to play some American drinking games?”
“Well, what’s the point of having an American around if we can’t bastardize your culture for our own pleasure?” Ollie jokes drily.
“If Mrs. Wright knew we just played a game called Flip Cup with the set of glasses we got from the Chinese ambassador, we’d all be sitting in the Tower right now,” Freddie laughs, wiping a tear from his eye.
“If Mrs. Wright knew how many of them we broke, our heads would be on spikes,” Aiden jokes as he works on sweeping up the shards of broken glass.
“Yeah, I tried to explain that the game is meant to be played with Solo cups,” I say, shooting a pointed look in Ollie’s direction. I’m grinning ear to ear. We all are.
“What?” Ollie asks, shrugging. “It’s not my fault there are no Solo cups in the royal residence. I think they were outlawed during Queen Victoria’s time.”
“How were you so good at it, Aly?” Freddie asks, a slight slur sneaking out between his words. “Is there anything physical that you’re not good at it?”
“No. There isn’t,” Ollie says quietly as he walks past me. He brushes his fingers against my back as he goes to help Aiden clean up.
My face heats up like a three-alarm fire. I bring the half-empty bottle of whiskey to my mouth in an attempt to distract myself from the way everything inside me tightens at the implications of his words.
“What other games do you know?” Freddie hiccup
s.
“Well,” I say, handing him the bottle. “There’s a game called Never Have I Ever.”
“That sounds downright scandalous,” he replies.
“Oh, it is. Trust me! One time I was playing with the Lacrosse team, and I found out—” My voice is cut off by the chiming of all three of the princes’ phones. Whatever it is, it can’t be good. All three of their phones going off at the same time? That usually signals some sort of emergency.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” I ask. The color drains from my face as the boys look down at their phones.
“Do you mind turning on the telly, Aly?” Aiden asks gravely.
I look over at Ollie, but he refuses to meet my stare. He walks over to the couch and sits. He slumps, placing his hands into his head. “What…what is it? The Queen Mother? Is everyone all right?” I ask, my voice cracking.
“It’s nothing like that, Aly,” Freddie says quietly. He shoots a glance at Ollie. Despite his assurance, I stand frozen in place. Aiden sighs and walks over to the television, turning it on.
What follows is a series of news reports and commentary from a slew of reporters about the boy I shared a passionate kiss with only days before. A tawdry story about an illicit affair between the youngest royal prince and some heiress from France. Excerpts from supposed texts between the two that leave absolutely nothing to the imagination as to what went on behind closed doors. The revelation of a baby, and the horrifying attempted bribery by Ollie to keep it secret.
No one speaks as the story is repeated over and over again for nearly an hour. No one jumps to Oliver’s defense as the reporters drudge up pictures of him partying, or as former girlfriends call in to say they aren’t surprised.
At some point, I look up to find Aiden in the corner of the room, talking in frenzied, hushed whispers into his phone. Ollie still hasn’t lifted his head. I stand rooted in place. Both of us trapped by the words spewing from the screen. I don’t know what move to make here. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to do or how to feel.
I just stand there, staring openmouthed at the screen.
“Is that the girl from the Birmingham Social last spring?” Freddie asks, finally breaking the silence.
“Yes,” Ollie mumbles.
“Father wants us on the first flight home in the morning,” Aiden interjects. He shoves his phone into his back pocket.
“Yes, of course,” Freddie replies, running a hand over his face. “I better go drink some water and get some sleep.”
“You should call Sophie,” I suggest. “She’ll be worried—”
“Worried Oliver’s latest shenanigans are going to upstage her wedding, no doubt,” Aiden cuts me off.
“Don’t,” Ollie growls.
“That’s not what I meant,” I plea, begging silently for Ollie to look at me. There’s no way for me to know what, if anything, from the story is true. Some parts are easier to believe than others. I don’t believe the part about the bribery. But the other parts about the girl and him… Even if it is true, Ollie is hurting, and I can’t bear it. I need him to know I’m there for him. I ran before and abandoned him. I won’t do so again.
Besides, I’m certainly not a saint, so who am I to judge?
“There’s no need to explain yourself to him, Aly,” says Aiden, his face darkening, his voice low and rough. “He doesn’t deserve it. He’s the one who owes all of us an explanation.”
“Stop,” Ollie warns again, a raw bitterness seeping through. One hand clutches at the hair on the side of his head, knuckles white.
“I get the affair, Oliver. It’s the sort of rubbish we all expect from you, but the bribery? That’s low. Even for you. What kind of man does something like that?” Aiden demands. He stalks over until he’s towering above Ollie.
“Maybe it’s best we talk about this in the morning,” Freddie suggests, shooting me a worried look.
“The kind of man who always runs from his responsibilities,” Aiden continues, ignoring Freddie’s request.
“Tell me, Aiden,” Ollie says, still refusing to look up at any of us. “How happy has that made you? Was it Father who told you to stay away from her? Mrs. Wright? How long did you regret it? Do you still?”
I stumble back at the accusation. Was that why Aiden ignored me after going off to school? He did return a changed man. He stopped drawing. His behavior toward me was indifferent. Had someone told him to back off? Counseled him that I was the wrong choice? Not good enough?
Worse off, had Aiden agreed?
“Oliver, we’re all a bit knackered, and it’s been a trying night. Let’s all go to bed before we say things we cannot take back,” Freddie begs.
“Is that what happened?” The words fly out of my mouth before I know what’s happening. Now certainly isn’t the time, but I can’t help myself. Ollie slowly lifts his head, and his eyes meet mine. That deep, penetrating look that demands why do you still care?
Ollie shakes his head as he pulls himself to his feet. He pushes past his brother, stalking over to me and snatching the bottle of whiskey from my hand. “Let’s do it. Never Have I Ever. We need something to liven up this damn morose night.” He laughs, bitterly. “You first since you know how the game is played,” he says, pointing a finger in my face. I flinch.
“No one is in the mood for some blasted game,” Aiden snarls.
“All the more reason to play,” Ollie replies, a crazed, less happy, more man-on-the-edge grin crawling across his face. He nods in my direction and narrows his eyes. Daring me to say no.
“You’re being a right git,” I fume. “But fine, you want to play, Oliver, let’s play. Never have I ever slept with an heiress and it made international news.”
“There it is! That’s my girl. Always ready to go for the kill. Willing to do anything for the win. The fiercest of competitors,” Ollie laughs. It sounds stale and empty. He snatches the bottle from my hand and takes a long drink.
“My turn now?” he asks me. I take a deep breath and nod. Nothing good will come of this. “Never have I ever loved a girl and let my father convince me not to go for it out of some sense of royal duty,” he says, turning his glare toward Aiden.
Aiden’s eyes dart to mine before he clenches his jaw and fixes his stare on Ollie.
“Ollie, please,” Freddie implores.
“No, she deserves to hear it. For once, just tell her, so she can move on and—”
“And be with you?” Aiden scoffs. “Don’t you think if she wanted to be with you, she would be with you, Oliver?”
I run a shaky hand down my hair, taking a step back. “Stop,” I whisper. This isn’t healthy or helpful. Freddie was right—soon, we’re all going to say things we can’t take back in the morning.
Ollie storms over to where I’m standing. Stuck. Frozen. He places his hands on my face. His eyes desperately search mine for something. “Don’t you want to know, Ryans? You need to know, right? That’s what you need?”
I do, but not for the reasons Ollie thinks. Even though he is a giant pain in my ass. Even though he is currently the center of a tabloid mess. I love him. There it is. I love him. I don’t know what that means for us. But it surely means nothing at all if the king had told Aiden to stay away from me because I wasn’t good enough.
Yes, I needed to know.
It’s only what I had feared for years. If the king thought I wasn’t good enough for Aiden before, he certainly won’t think I am good enough for any of his sons now that I’ve really made a mess of my life.
I will have to walk away.
I won’t bring any more trouble to this family.
I nod.
“Whatever happened, it was the past. Why do we need to bring it up?” Aiden asks, his voice breaking.
“Just. Tell. Her,” Ollie demands.
Aiden lets free a long, heavy sigh as he sits down on the couch. “Yes, Father asked me to stay away from Aly,” he admits, clearly defeated.
There it is. And it’s a real kick to the gut.
I pull Ollie’s hands from my face, turning around so none of the boys can see the tears that fill my eyes.
“But not for the reasons you suspect,” he continues. “He thinks you’re lovely, Aly. Just like I do, but he worried that maybe…” He clears his throat. “That maybe you weren’t made for this life.” Aiden pauses. He takes a deep, shaky breath before continuing. “He pulled me into his office, and he told me I should end it. For your sake,” he clarifies. “He just didn’t think you had it in you to be queen, and it wasn’t something I was willing to ask of you.”
“What are you talking about” Ollie demands, his voice rising. I turn around to look at Aiden.
“Can you imagine what the press would be like if Aly was with me? I’m the bloody future king of England. Not only is she not a royal, she’s American. And she grew up with us. They would be relentless. And Aly…”
“…hates the press,” Ollie finishes. He sits next to his brother on the couch.
“The press hounds Sophie, but it isn’t unbearable,” says Freddie. He pulls up a chair to sit across from his brothers.
“They wouldn’t be the same with her as they are with Sophie,” Ollie explains. “Her father is Knighted, and her mother a duchess.”
“…and you’re not going to be king,” Aiden adds dully.
“It’s not like Aly is just some girl. She’s the daughter of an ambassador,” Freddie replies.
“An American ambassador,” Aiden reminds him. “The only thing worse than the British press is the American.”
All of the anger and bitterness that laced their voices before is gone. Now, they sound tired and beat down. I know the feeling well. And even though they’re talking about me, it’s like I’m not in the room. Like I’m some problem they all have to work together to solve.
I’m not sure how I feel about that. On the one hand, it touches me to see them like this. Together. Brothers in every sense of the word. But it also makes me feel like I’m alone.
“I didn’t want to risk what the press would do to her,” Aiden admits.
“She’s too important to risk,” Freddie says, nodding.
“She is,” Aiden agrees.
Royal Attraction Page 15
