by Dee Lagasse
“Hannah! Wow, what a surprise,” I say, not bothering to hide the over-dramatically polite tone in my voice. “Never thought I’d run into you here.”
“Yeah, not really my scene,” she laughs. “Or yours either. This is a drastic difference from Dropkick Murphys. I’m here with my mom, what’s your excuse?”
“Girlfriend and the sisters,” I shrug without giving it a second thought.
Until I do about ten seconds after the words leave my lips.
Fuck.
Among Sutton’s abundance of followers on Instagram? Hannah, herself. If Oliver couldn’t get them past us, there’s no way she wouldn’t put two and two together. Glancing over, I see the four of them talking, and within seconds Sutton is making a beeline toward us.
Shit. Shit. Shiiiiiiiiiiiit.
The protective, determined look on her face reminds me of the lionesses back in South Africa. There’s no stopping her now. The fierce presence she carries as she approaches us scares me a little, and I didn’t even do anything wrong.
“I tried,” Oliver huffs once he makes his way over to us.
Putting on her best fake smile, Hannah looks down the line, unsurprised to see Oliver, Helena, and Nora, but she freezes in place when she sees Sutton.
“Holy shit,” she says under her breath. “You’re –”
“Sutton Alloway-DiMarco,” Sutton cuts her off authoritatively, extending her hand to Hannah. “Nice to meet you…”
Trailing the end of her sentence to let Hannah introduce herself, she shoots me the smallest of glances, letting me know that she knows damn well who Hannah is.
“Hannah Gallagher,” Hannah finishes for Sutton. “Formerly Hannah Cambridge. I was married to this guy for a while.”
Playfully slugging me on the arm, her attempt at making us look chummy was desperate and a little pathetic. Sutton answers by raising her eyebrows, unimpressed. I’ve never seen her be anything but diplomatic in public situations, so her disregard for “protocol” when it comes to my ex-wife would be amusing, if we weren’t right in the middle of dealing with her right now.
Just when I’m about to excuse us, Hannah’s eyes grow wide.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
She knows.
“You,” she says, looking at me and then back to Sutton. “And her?”
“What?!” I ask, trying to play it off like I hadn’t said I was here with my girlfriend less than five minutes ago. I won’t lie. I won’t say Sutton isn’t my girlfriend, but I won’t confirm it either.
“You said you were here with your girlfriend,” she gasps, covering her mouth. “The only person here you’re not related to is…oh my God. You’re dating a fucking princess?!!”
“Hello, love. I’m still right here.” Sutton waves, smiling at her. Lowering her voice as she steps forward, placing herself right in front of Hannah. “What is it going to take for you to keep this between us? We’re trying to hold off on the press finding out about us for a bit longer.”
Reaching inside the little wristlet she has, she pulls out a small wad of cash. Quickly sifting through the cash, she extends it to Hannah.
“I have four hundred dollars here, but I can arrange to have more sent to you via carrier, or if there’s something else you want,” Sutton offers, her voice eerily calm and collected as she tries to bribe my ex-wife not to expose our relationship.
This is the first time I’ve seen Sutton flaunt her money or use her royal title to her advantage. Her flat, emotionless tone tells me this is all an act. And I hate it. She’s being everything she stands against in attempt to salvage the integrity of our relationship.
“Oh, don’t you worry. Your secret is safe with me,” Hannah says, attempting to assure Sutton all while forgetting that I spent four years of my life with her and can tell when she’s bullshitting. “But I really have to get back to my mom. It was so nice seeing you all and meeting you, your highness.”
Unlike everyone that has called her that in my presence since I met her, Sutton doesn’t correct Hannah. Offering her a small tight-lipped smile, Sutton moves next to me and slides her money back into her little bag.
“You’re really cute when you’re possessive,” I chuckle, kissing her on the top of the head. “I’m sorry about that. I know I shouldn’t have said anything about who I was with.”
Bracing myself for lectures from both Sutton and Nora, I know I deserve whatever they’re going to throw at me. I got caught up in the moment and forgot that no one’s supposed to know about our relationship yet.
“She just took a picture!” Helena exclaims as Hannah disappears into the crowd of people.
“You do know this is going to be all over the internet within hours,” Oliver exhales, tipping his head back in frustration. “Probably sooner.”
“Yeah,” Sutton sighs. “You guys should stay. Enjoy the show. I need to head back to the house. I need to call Luke and give him the heads up and figure out our plan.”
“Yeah, there’s no way in hell I’m letting you leave by yourself,” I tell her. “I fucked up. I told Hannah I was here with my girlfriend. This is my screw up and we’re in this together, babe.”
“We shouldn’t have even been here,” she argues. “You tried to tell me this wasn’t a good idea.”
“Well, I should be there too,” Nora adds. “I am Bodie’s agent and publicist. We should all be on the same page.”
“And I’m her business partner,” Oliver shrugs. “I need to be kept in the loop too.”
“I’m his…” Helena shrugs, pointing at Oliver, as she tries to come up with her excuse. “Wife? And you guys are going to need Chinese food. Which I can totally go get.”
“Oliver’s house?” Nora suggests. “Just in case the media does get wind of it and decides to show up at Bodie’s looking for Sutton?”
Speed walking, we make our way down to the parking garage. As soon as he’s within distance to the car, Oliver unlocks the Jeep and we all hurry inside. Just like on our way into the city a little while ago, the ladies file into the back seat. As much as I want to be with Sutton, I know right now isn’t the time or place to be fussing over the seating arrangements. Begrudgingly, I climb into the front seat.
“Good idea,” Oliver nods, putting the keys into the ignition starting the vehicle. Because everyone is inside the building waiting for the concert to start, we’re able to leave the parking garage in mere minutes.
It seems to lessen the farther we drive away from the Garden, but tension is unmistakable. Sutton’s voice is the only sound that fills the Jeep as we pass the brightly lit Zakim Bridge. Just a little while ago, she had been fascinated as we drove over it, impressed by the fact she was on the largest cable-stayed bridge in the entire world. She had spent a week here a few months ago, but with her busy tour schedule, she didn’t have much time for sightseeing.
Excitedly, Helena had suggested a girls’ day. Growing up in South Boston, Helena could show her the city better than any guided tour. The way Sutton’s eyes had lit up at the idea, you would have thought someone had told her she was getting another puppy. And now, they probably can’t. All because of me and my big fucking mouth.
I shouldn’t have let Hannah get under my skin. I shouldn’t have felt the need to let her know I had moved on, that I was happy without her...that I was doing better without her. Sutton would never blame me, that’s not who she is. She would try to shift it from me and try to put it all on herself, but I knew better.
No one else speaks a word as Sutton goes back and forth with Luke the entire twenty-minute ride to Oliver and Helena’s house, saying goodbye not a moment after Oliver puts the Jeep in park.
Helena, Oliver, and Nora head inside quickly, undoubtedly to give Sutton and I a moment to talk before we join them.
“I’m sorry,” I apologize, reaching for her when I see the frustration and worry on her face. “I’m so sorry, Sutton. I shouldn’t have said I was there with my girlfriend. I shouldn’t have let her get to me.”
“
No, I’m the one that’s sorry,” she says as she falls into me. “I shouldn’t have even put us in that situation. I wanted to go to the concert. I wanted to get snacks. You tried to talk me out of doing both. If anyone’s to blame, it’s me.”
“Can we both just blame Hannah instead?” I offer, kissing the top of her head as I hold her. “What’s the plan?”
“To go inside,” Sutton laughs as her teeth chatter. “It’s freezing out here.”
It’s thirty-one degrees in Willoughby tonight. One degree below freezing. If going into the warmth of Oliver’s house is the only comfort I can give her in this moment, I know I have to.
“Hannah wasted no time. You’re already on TMZ,” Oliver points to the open laptop on the kitchen table. “Nora is in the office talking to Luke about releasing a statement.”
“Nora has the statement,” she says, entering the room. “Say hi to Luke and Clementine, everyone.”
Turning her phone to face us all, Luke passes the phone to Sutton’s stylist and best friend.
“We leave you two out of our sight for less than twenty-four bloody hours,” she jokes, laughing. “But! I already started looking for a new dress and Bodie, I’m going to need your sizes for a tux for Sara and Sterling’s anniversary party. You need something amazing. All eyes are going to be on the two of you.”
Chuckling at her casual take on the situation, I’m certain Clementine is the only non-royal on this earth that can get away with casually calling the next in line to the Windham crown “Sara.”
“Also I know it’s a lot to ask,” Luke’s voice adds from next to her. “But the sooner you can get back here, the better. While I don’t doubt Bodie, Oliver, and Pat will do their best to keep you safe, you have no security there, Sutton. If the media wants to find you, you know they will.”
“We can leave first thing in the morning,” I assure him as Sutton shakes her head, opening her mouth to argue the matter with him. “Oliver, can you call Dad? I know it’s late for him, but I’m sure he’d like to see Sutton before we leave, and we should probably fill him in before he turns on the news tomorrow morning.”
“Alright,” Nora starts, handing us each a piece of paper. “The sooner we do this, the sooner we get control of the situation. I need you two to look this over and let us know if it’s okay. As soon as you give us the ‘go ahead,’ we will post this on both of your social media accounts and send it to your grandmother’s press secretary to release on behalf of your entire family, Sutton.”
Taking the paper from my sister, I read:
From the offices of Luke McHugh, secretary of HRH, Princess Sutton and Nora Cambridge, publicist of Mr. Bodie Cambridge. To be released immediately.
HRH, Princess Sutton of Windham and Mr. Bodie Cambridge are releasing the following joint statement in response to being seen together in Boston tonight. While they had been planning to formally announce their relationship by attending the fortieth wedding anniversary party given in honor of HRH’s parents Princess Sara and Prince Sterling next week, they feel it is best to release this statement tonight.
Both Princess Sutton and Mr. Cambridge understand that due to the public nature of their lives, there will be many questions and interest in their relationship going forward. They are both excited to share important moments and milestones with you and hope that you can respect their privacy as they adjust to this new stage in their relationship.
When I finish, I look over at Sutton, who is staring at me expectantly. Shifting my eyes down to the paper and back to Sutton, I don’t need to say anything to ask her what she thinks. Giving her approval in a small nod, I look at my sister, taking a deep breath.
“Alright, let’s do this.”
Chapter 13
Sutton
“A head nod only and everyone is ma’am and sir, except your grandparents and they’re Your Royal Highness.”
As Bodie vocally goes over his royal event etiquette checklist for the fifth time this hour, I slide into a pair of black leather pumps.
“Unless my grandmother specifies otherwise, which she probably will, yes,” I confirm, straightening his bowtie. “It’s going to be fine, babe. You’re going to do fine.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” he swallows. “You were born into this. It’s second nature for you. And if you screw up, they’re your family. If I screw up, I’ll be banned from the country.”
Laughter erupts from the doorway as my brother-in-law enters the room.
Jameson is from right here in Abington, but he isn’t from a family of high standing in society’s eyes. When Simone met Jameson, she knew he was it though. They were only sixteen. He was her first boyfriend, and everyone thought it would just be a silly short-lived childhood romance.
No one thought they would last, no one except Simone and Jameson. Eighteen years together, a marriage, a baby, and another one on the way, and they’re still proving the world wrong.
“She’s right, mate” Jameson pipes in. “You’ll be fine. I mean, I’m still around. They didn’t send me into exile.”
“Yet.” My sister, who has now joined the room, winks. “Whoa, sister. That dress is…just whoa.”
“Too much whoa?” I ask, suddenly self-conscious of the teal ruffled-sleeved jersey dress.
The bateau neckline and the shirring gathering at the left waist was tasteful, but still very far from the typical simple, black dresses I normally wore to royal dinners. Beige during the day, black at night, that’s the standard I have gone with since I was seventeen and was given the freedom to choose my own clothing choices for events like these.
“Just enough whoa,” she assures me. “It’s nice to see you in some color. Clem did good.”
Tonight, Bodie and I would make our first official appearance as a couple. The frenzy since Hannah sent our picture to TMZ and our joint press release has been a lot to take in, for both of us.
After months of having it be our own little inside secret, someone pieced together our matching black hemp bracelets from Africa, and it has been pointed out in every single picture either of us posted since then.
“Wait.” Bodie gently grabs me by the arm, getting my attention. “What am I supposed to say when people ask who I am?”
“You say you’re Bodie Cambridge, silly,” I chuckle. “A three-time World Series winning pitcher for the Boston Red Sox, and if you want to add in that you’re my boyfriend, you can.”
Two black cars wait outside of Pearce Cottage. Simone and Jameson disappear into the first one as Bodie and I slide into the second one. The eight-minute drive to Briallen Palace is filled with more questions from Bodie about the people that will be attending the party tonight.
As we pull up to the gates, I can physically feel his nerves as they radiate off him.
“We got this,” I tell him, sliding my hand in his. The bright flashes from the photographers outside of the gates go off in a fury when they realize who has gotten out of the car.
As a little girl, I never saw Briallen as anything more than Granny and Papa’s home. It’s where I needed to be quiet inside, where I learned to ride a horse, and it’s the home of the prettiest Christmas tree in the entire country of Windham. It’s the house that you don’t touch anything because there’s a good chance it’s over one hundred years old and irreplaceable.
As an adult, I can recite the basic facts in my sleep.
“Briallen Palace has been part of the Alloway family for two hundred and fifty-seven years. It has served as the official residence of the Windham sovereigns since 1845 and is the present administrative headquarters of the Monarch. In addition to many official events and receptions held by Queen Jane, the State Rooms at Briallen Palace are open to the public annually during the months of April, May, and June.
“There are seven hundred and seventy-seven rooms, including seventeen staterooms, fifty-four Royal and guest bedrooms, one hundred ninety-nine staff bedrooms, ninety-five offices, and eighty bathrooms. The palace has its own post office, a theater roo
m, swimming pool, surgical room, and a jeweler's workshop.”
But watching Bodie as we step foot in the foyer brings a whole new perspective to me. With wide eyes and the smallest gasp, he grabs my hand and gives it the smallest of squeezes. For the first time in, I think my entire life, I look at the room in front of us with new eyes. Though never given an official title, two sets of red-carpeted stairs leading to the second floor have been dubbed the “grand staircase.” Small columns featuring an intricate pattern of bronze leaves are topped by a mahogany rail lining the outside of the staircase, while painted portraits of my ancestors fill the walls on the inside.
As my sister and brother-in-law walk up the stairs, I pull my fingers from Bodie’s, tucking my arm under his. Picking up on my cue, he opens the space between us slightly, allowing me to fully wrap my fingers around his bicep. While I know this is not the time or the place to fully appreciate the small, hard bulge of muscle as he looks down at me, I offer a smile.
“Those are my great-great-grandparents,” I whisper as I try to inconspicuously point to the two paintings at the top of the staircase. “The whole idea of having these paintings when you first walk in is to give the impression that the royal family, past and present, are here to greet you.”
“There’s no way you could have prepared me for this,” he says quietly, tilting his down to face mine. “Sutton, this is incredible.”
“Oh, baby, you haven’t seen anything yet,” I smile up at him as we begin to make our way to the ballroom the reception is being held in. “There will be an onslaught of photographers and press as we enter the room. Remember, you don’t even have to acknowledge them. Look at me, look ahead. I know it’s hard to imagine it, but just pretend like they’re not even there.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice to look at you,” he chuckles. “By the way, I don’t think I got the chance to tell you that you look gorgeous tonight.”
“You look pretty dapper yourself, Mr. Cambridge.” I beam up at him just in time for us to step foot into the ballroom.
