by S. L. Scott
“We can’t either,” he says. “It took a lot of convincing to let us come to visit.”
The word “visit” doesn’t sit right with me, but I’m not going to ruin the reunion. I embrace my little sister. “Hi.”
Her hug is tighter than usual, and when she leans back, she rolls her eyes. “I know you won’t believe me, but I missed you.”
I give her hand a little squeeze. “I missed you, too.”
Although I’ve been conflicted about Margie recently, I very clearly remember what she did for me a few nights ago. I wouldn’t have been able to leave with Hutton if she hadn’t snuck me my passport. “Hello.” I start slowly, testing the water that flows between us.
“Hello,” she replies and then curtsies.
When she’s up again, I say, “You’re here.”
“I’m not just your secretary, Belle. I’m your friend, and I was worried about you.”
It isn’t an apology, but that needs to be done in a private setting. Taking into account the passport and the fact that she traveled to check on me, I hug her. It could be that I just missed my friend. Or all three. Either way, she’s here. “I missed you.”
Peeking over to Bennett, he sticks out his bottom lip. “No hug? Wow, you act like we just saw each other or something.”
Hutton’s not wearing his watch, but it can’t be much past nine. “Yeah, maybe like, oh I don’t know, seven hours ago.” I go and hug him anyway.
He points at my head when I hug him, and he says, “See, Hut, old man, the women love me.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he replies. “Why didn’t anybody call me?”
I push off him and lean against Hutton, and whisper, “Your phone is still by the bed.”
Jakob says, “I called Hutton, and when he didn’t answer, I bothered Bennett.”
Bennett says, “I sent you three messages that they were here. We finally decided to barge in. Well, we knocked just in case—”
“Okay,” Hutton says, “we get it.”
His arm comes around me, and I hold on to it until Jakob, Marielle, and Margie’s eyes all go wide. I realize too late what I’ve done. Fighting my instinct of propriety and everything I was raised to believe, I stay, then I take Hutton’s hand and hold it. Right. In. Front. Of. Them. With Hutton in Austin, I never felt the need for propriety. Never kept physical distance in front of people. That’s because I was only ever Ally in America. But now as my two worlds collide? Now I’m Princess Arabelle and Ally.
“Guess you’ve done more than kiss,” Marielle deadpans.
“Wow. This escalated quickly,” Jakob says, “You’ve renounced the throne and already look at home. With Hutton.”
Hutton holds me and says, “She hasn’t renounced the throne. Tell them, Ally.”
I catch the flash of annoyance on Margie’s face when she hears the name. I let it go and lead them to sit down. “I’m not giving up my birthright. Why would I? Because I fell in love? Because I shamed the monarchy? No,” I say, shaking my head. “They’re trying to teach me a lesson. They want me to marry the duke—”
“Ew,” my sister says, scrunching her face. “He’s like a brother.” Patting Jakob on the arm, she smiles sweetly. “No offense to you.”
With his hands up, he replies, “Offense taken. The guy is a dick.”
“Literally. And I agree. That’s why I told him it will never happen.”
Margie says, “Never say never.”
“Never.” But that wasn’t from me, though I was about to say it. Hutton crosses his arms over his chest, and says, “She’ll never marry him.”
Margie seems surprised but doesn’t say anything more when she sits back.
The doorbell rings again, and Hutton says, “What the fuck is with the surprise visits today?”
Bennett heads for the security monitor. “It’s Singer. I’ll let her in.”
I smile at the thought of my new friend meeting the people I care about. “Great timing. I can’t wait for you to meet her. She’s pure loveliness.”
Jakob asks, “Is she hot?”
Hutton taps his shoulder when he gets up and walks into the kitchen. “She’s off limits.”
“Says who?”
“My brother.”
“Ah. Yes, that puts her firmly in the off-limits category,” he jokes.
I’ve never seen this side of him, but when I think about it, we’ve really not spent a lot of time in the same place since we turned twenty-one.
“Coffee or juice?” Hutton asks, taking orders.
I hear Singer chatting away like a bluebird when she enters the living room with Bennett. Stopping in her tracks, she holds her hands out in front of her. “I didn’t know you had company. I can come back later.”
“No,” I say, standing up. “Come in. I want you to meet my family and friend.”
She blushes and giggles. “Sorry. I’m sort of freaking out inside right now.”
Bennett gives her a side hug. “Not just on the inside.”
“Stop teasing me. It’s like a royal trifecta in here.”
That earns her a rousing round of laughter. I introduce her to my family, and Jakob kisses the top of her hand, and then says, “I hear you’re married?”
Singer laughs. “Happily.” When she meets Marielle, she says, “You’re even more beautiful than you are on TV.” That instantly wins my sister over. Singer’s smile momentarily slips when she meets Margie. Her tone changes, but her etiquette is still intact. “It’s nice to meet you.”
I still don’t get Margie, especially when she replies, “And you, Mrs. Everest.” It’s not the words but her tone that comes across as rude.
No more. We will talk today.
Hutton turns on the coffee machine, and asks, “It’s nine fifteen in the morning. How did you guys know we’d be up?”
“Ethan told me you were working out earlier,” she replies matter-of-factly.
“How’d he know?”
“He knows everything.” She narrows her eyes and points a finger at her brothers-in-law. “Don’t tell him I said that, though.”
Bennett laughs. “Your secret’s safe with us.”
She gets up and heads for the kitchen. “I stopped by to see if Ally—”
“Princess Arabelle,” Margie grits, correcting her while she stands in opposition.
“Margitte,” I snap.
My sister asks, “Who’s Ally?”
Bennett squeezes between her and Jakob and drapes his arms along the back of the couch. “I was going back to bed, but maybe I’ll stay and watch the fireworks.”
From the kitchen, Hutton yells, “Go home, Ben.”
Popping right back up, he says, “I’m out.” But then he turns back. “Want to hang out at my place, Marielle?”
“Oh, um,” she stutters, and her cheeks turn pink.
“No,” Jakob snaps, “she doesn’t.”
I’ve been stewing in my anger for minutes. So I finally stand. “Singer, I hate to be rude, but can I call you in a little while? My family and I have business to discuss.”
“No problem at all. Just call me if you have time.”
I walk her to the door and say goodbye before marching back to the living room, realizing I’ve not explored the apartment since I arrived. “Hutton, do you have a room where Margie and I can talk privately?”
“Down the hall past the front door. Take your pick of rooms, or there’s another living room you can use.” He comes to me with a cup of coffee and also hands one to Margie.
“Thank you.” I lift up on my bare toes and kiss him. I don’t even care if the whole world sees me. Screw stupid, outdated laws. We’re in America anyway. Let the Bruden police come get me.
Margie and I carry our coffees with us as we walk past a row of guestrooms and into the sunshine of another smaller sitting room. Like how I see Margie these days, I see this apartment with a new perspective. Hutton feels like home, but could this place be the one we call home?
“Please sit,” I direct and sit
across from her.
“Are we talking as friends or you as my princess?”
“I want you to speak freely as my friend.” I turn my mug around in my hand, and ask, “What are you doing, Margie?”
“What are you doing, Belle?” She lowers her voice. “Did you take a shower with him?”
Thinking about my wet hair, I volley back a question, because I don’t owe her answers, “Why did you come to New York?”
“I’m your last saving grace, Princess. Your father has reviewed the security tapes that date back to your teens. He knows I was with you half the time. That I was an accomplice.”
“To what? To having a good time. Jeez,” I say, rolling my eyes. “You’d think the man never partied before he was a prince.”
“He was allowed to. You were not, and you knew that.”
“I know it, but that doesn’t make it fair or right.”
“Fair?” she scoffs. “You’re spoiled.” She stands as I sit in shock. “You’ve been given everything, and you’re tossing it away like it means nothing. My mother worked her ass off, and here I am, trying to do what’s best for you instead of me, and you don’t even care.”
Standing, I walk to the window, allowing a moment for her words to sink in. She thinks I’m spoiled. Selfish. “I do care. About you. About my family. About my country and the people of Bruden.”
“Your country because you basically own it. I’m just a simple servant to the monarch.”
“You’ve been given a life of luxury and still have the right to quit any time you like. What really keeps you there if you hate it so much?”
“You, but you’re too blind to see that everyone is trying to help you succeed. That passport was a peace offering to help you out.”
“I appreciate you doing that, but what happened to us?” I turn away from her and look out over Manhattan. It’s easy to feel like queen of the world from up here, but do I need the world or just the little country of Brudenbourg anymore? “When did we become enemies?”
“When you put your own needs in front of your country’s.”
“I can’t win with you. I love my country, but when does loving my country mean I’m not allowed to live a life I love too?”
“It’s never been this way before—”
“I know. Isn’t it time we catch up with the times? You and I both know I’ve had sex and that alone could knock me out of the line of succession. But why? Why does that mean I’m not fit to be queen? My mother is the queen, and news alert, she’s had sex.”
“I didn’t make the rules, the laws, nor have a say in the matter. But you knowingly broke them, and if there are no consequences, then what keeps everyone else from cherry-picking their way through our laws?”
“I didn’t murder anybody. I had sex with somebody I love. Heaven forbid.” Shoving my wrists in front of me, I add, “Lock me up and throw away the key.”
“That’s just it, Belle. You didn’t love Hutton when you had sex. You simply gave him the best part of you for free.”
Her lack of tact in delivery hurts. Yet I try to overlook the bluntness and take in her words. Sitting, I lean my head back and cover my face with my hands. This is where we are—we will never see eye to eye. It makes me sad to lose this friendship. It makes me mad that she won’t see my side. It’s so frustrating, but most of all, it’s hurtful. I sit up and look at my friend, the one I used to play dolls with, dream of what our Prince Charmings would look like one day, and keep each other’s secrets under a vow through a pinky promise that meant something. With no energy to continue a losing battle, I say, “That you think my body is the best part of me, that it’s the best I have to offer, says it all. I have so much more to offer than being a pretty talking head for Brudenbourg. If that’s all that is expected of me, maybe I don’t want to be the queen.”
Standing back up, I take my coffee and sip, savoring its taste. What I see as the best part of me is the man who loves me selflessly. He made sure this coffee was exactly how I like it . . . with a little dash of cinnamon. I won’t take that lightly, and I will never take Hutton for granted.
“That’s ridiculous.”
I’m about to leave, knowing this conversation is as over as our friendship, but add, “If you can’t support me and my relationship with Hutton, then we’re done here.”
“I can’t and won’t.” Her words are like daggers. “Your parents know you’ve had sex.”
“What?”
I thought I was only stabbed in the heart, but no. I’ve been stabbed in the back. I’m almost too angry to cry, but this stings. “You’re my friend. My best friend since we were eight. How can you do this to me?”
“I’m a servant of the monarchy. I was raised to fulfill my role, and I intend to. By doing this, I am being your friend.”
“No, you’re not. You’re a traitor.”
“To you. To your country, I’ll be a hero.”
“If that’s what helps you sleep at night . . .” She’s not even worth the fight. I leave her standing there mentally armored to battle me. Fighting this battle isn’t worth losing the war. Things have changed, so I have to prepare for the onslaught.
31
Ally
Hutton’s sitting with my siblings when I return. By everyone’s ease, it solidifies my decision. Like Singer said, everyone loves Hutton. If my parents truly want me happy, they will have to make the choice to get to know Hutton. To see the incredibly loyal, intelligent, and wonderful man he is. And . . . most importantly, accept him as a part of me.
He stands when I cross the room. Catching his eyes, I say, “I need to speak with you privately please.” I head for the hall that leads to our bedroom. Our bedroom. Exhaling when I enter our sanctuary, I turn with my hands behind my head. What am I going to do? “Can I really do it?”
“Do what?” Hutton asks, closing the door behind him.
I lower my hands back to my sides. Not wanting to hide anything from him anymore, I say, “Abdicate.”
“What? Why would you do that?”
“I’m not. I . . . we need to talk about everything. I thought we had more time.”
“We don’t?”
“No. Margie said my parents know I’ve had sex.”
“How?” he asks, coming to sit on the bench under the window.
“I assume she told them. She’s the only one who knew. Well, other than the duke’s wild accusations.”
“They’re not wild if they’re accurate. Did you tell him?”
“I didn’t have to. He could tell.”
“How?”
I shrug. “Maybe I’m not good at hiding how I feel about you.”
And there’s that roguish grin reflecting his mood, or maybe a sense of pride. Either way, I can’t let it distract me like it usually does. I say, “I need to talk to my siblings.”
I wait for him while he gets up, my heartstrings pulling him closer. His arms come around me, and he kisses my temple. “You’re not in this alone, Ally.”
“I know,” I whisper.
“Whatever you need.”
“I know.” I take his hand and lower my lips to the inside of his wrist and kiss him. I taste him and the salty mix of his skin, the soap from the shower, and me. My gaze goes up to look at this man, who came into my life so unexpectedly but is willing to fight to stay forever. “I love you.”
“I know.” He squeezes my ass, and says, “I’ll always be wherever you need me, so go do what you need to do.”
I kiss him on the mouth because it’s Hutton, after all, and those amazing lips should be kissed regularly. I return to the living room, and Jakob and Marielle are standing at the windows, pointing at different buildings while Margie sits at the table. Her eyes go from the flowers to mine when I walk into the room. She stands as if she still respects me. I walk to my sister and brother, stepping between them. With my eyes on the vast view, I say, “What have you heard?”
I don’t need to go into the backstory. They’re both well aware of the hot topi
c of me back in Brudenbourg.
My sister says, “It’s wrong if you don’t become queen.”
“You understand what you’re saying, right?”
She turns to me and nods. “You deserve the throne; not just because it’s your birthright, but because you’ll bring life to our queendom. We haven’t always been close. I used to see you as someone I didn’t understand.” Touching her lips, she pauses. “But now I’ve come to admire you. You didn’t wait for life to happen. You created your own. You’re so brave, Belle. One day, I hope to find the same courage to live the life I want.”
Taking her left hand in my right, I say, “I hope you do, too.” I start getting choked up.
Jakob says, “What are you going to do, Belle?”
“I love Hutton.” We all glance back at him.
Sitting on the couch, he says, “That’s me.”
Jakob’s face twists. “And how do you feel about my sister?”
Hutton, my Texas gentleman with his easygoing smile, replies, “I’m in love with Arabelle, my Ally.”
“That’s settled then, but when did this happen? It seems sudden.”
“I’ve loved him since we were together in Texas.”
Marielle asks, “You dated before?”
Jakob is rubbing his left temple. “So you weren’t strangers when he came to Brudenbourg? When his company came to . . . Okay, that’s a lot to take in right now. Let’s focus on the here and now.” Unlike how he usually acts, he takes my hand, and says, “What do we need to do?”
The three of us hold hands as a united front, giving me the strength to know I have an army of my own willing to fight alongside me. “I need to return to Brudenbourg and talk to our parents.”
“When?” Hutton asks as if he’s been waiting for this shoe to drop. I look back and see him approaching with concern etched in his forehead.
“I guess as soon as possible.”
“I can have the jet ready within a few hours.” Nodding, Hutton touches my shoulder.
Jakob releases my hand and crosses his arms over his chest. The stance is defensive, but hearing the tone of his words, he’s calm. “We have our plane here. We’ll leave tomorrow. We just arrived. Anyway, we’re supposed to be talking some ‘sense’ into you. If you hop on a plane today, you’ll make me look good but yourself bad for folding.”
