It's My Party: A Royal Romantic Comedy (Seven Brides for Seven Mothers Book 3)

by Whitney Dineen

  She needn’t have worried though. My parents’ only concern seems to be that people accept their daughter for the beautiful human being she is.

  Chéri moved to Paris for college and has lived there ever since. It’s where she met Brigitte. While our parents love and accept my sister’s girlfriend, Chéri’s concern is that they won’t know how to accept her baby.

  I know they’ll ultimately be happy, though they’ll have to scramble to figure out how they’re going to present this to the press.

  Malquar is a socially liberal country, but thus far, my sister is the only royal to ever come out as gay and she’s blazing a trail some older people on our island are uncomfortable with.

  After dropping Claire off at her house, I pull into my own driveway and call my sister.

  “Bonjour, Geoff!” she answers after only one ring.

  “I wasn’t sure you really wanted me to call when I got your text or if you wanted me to wait until a decent hour.”

  She ignores me and asks, “What do you think about our news?”

  “I’m very happy for you both. You’re the first ones to make me an uncle,” I say, thinking of Claire’s excitement.

  “You’re welcome,” my little sister trills in delight. “I’ve already gained ten pounds and the doctor told me if I don’t stop eating pain au chocolate every day I’m going to be the size of a house.”

  I listen as she tells me all about her cravings. Pickles on toast and escargot with apple jam are just a couple that make me queasy to think about...

  After we talk for several minutes, I ask, “Chéri, why didn’t you discuss your plans with Mom and Dad before getting pregnant?”

  “Because it’s my body and my business,” she answers heatedly.

  “While that’s true, you know your pregnancy is going to be national news. Don’t you think it would have been more responsible, more loving, not to keep Mom and Dad in the dark?”

  Chéri sighs before admitting, “I was afraid they’d be upset I wasn’t married first. You know how old-fashioned the royals can be.” As kids we referred to our parents as “the royals” when we felt like they were out of step with the time.

  “Why don’t you and Brigitte get married? You love each other, and you’ve been together for five years.”

  “I don’t believe in marriage the same way others do,” my sister says indignantly. “I think that when two people love each other they should stay together for the sake of love and not the piece of paper that makes them a legal couple.”

  I tell her, “Most do it because they want to make that commitment to each other.”

  “But Brigitte and I are already committed. Why do we have to get married just to make other people comfortable?”

  “Chéri, you are a princess. Like it or not, there are things expected of you that other people never have to contend with.”

  “I know that. And while I appreciate how wonderful our parents have been about accepting me for who I am, I still want to live my life for me. I’m not going to have a traditional marriage like the rest of you, so why do I have to have a wedding?”

  “You won’t love Brigitte any less if you marry her and if it makes things easier for Mom and Dad, what’s the big deal?”

  “Geoffrey,” my sister sounds frustrated by my logic. “There’s a black sheep in every family, and I’m ours.” She pauses before saying, “I know I sound all tough about this, but I would really appreciate it if you would come home when I tell them.”

  I feel her angst across the distance. I do a quick mental check of what I know is on the schedule for the next week and decide that Henry, my sous-chef, will have no trouble holding down the fort. Fortunately, flying halfway across the world on a moment’s notice isn’t a financial constraint, so I give in, “When do you want me there?”

  “A week from today. I’m sorry not to give you more notice, but Brigitte just got her schedule switched yesterday.”

  “I just gave my notice today,” I say while cracking open a beer and slumping down onto my couch.

  “So, you’re really coming home?” She sounds incredulous.

  “I am.”

  “Why? It’s not like you’re the heir or the spare.”

  “I’m doing it because I said I would. It’s not like I didn’t know it was coming.”

  “But you love America,” she says.

  “I love my family,” I tell her, hoping she’ll take the hint and realize that sometimes in life you have to make concessions.

  “I love our family too, Geoffrey. But I also love myself and Brigitte and I don’t think other people’s happiness should come before ours.”

  “Well, I’m not in love with anyone,” I say, trying not to think about what might have blossomed between me and Claire had I been able to stay. “So, I might as well go home and find love there.”

  “You’re a good soldier, Geoffrey,” she says, sounding sincere.

  That I am. For a moment I wish I had my sister’s determination and could just live my life for myself.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Sharon

  “How did you get home?” Sharon looks up in surprise when Claire walks through the front door. “I thought you were going to call me when you were ready for a ride.”

  “Geoffrey gave me a lift.”

  “Oh?” Sharon’s interest is piqued.

  Throwing her purse and coat on a bench in the entryway, Claire joins her mother in the living room. “Don’t go getting all excited. I just found out he’s moving home in a couple of months.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Because he wants to,” Claire guesses. “It’s none of my business why he does what he does. You and Ruby need to get it out of your heads that something of a romantic nature is going to transpire between him and me. It’s not going to happen.”

  “Damn,” Sharon says while snapping her fingers for emphasis. “I guess it’s back to the drawing board.”

  Claire

  “Is there some reason you think I need a man in my life to make it better?” I ask my mom, after changing out of my work clothes into my pajamas.

  “I just want you to feel what it’s like to have someone who loves and supports you. Jack was always all about himself and it plain broke my heart to know you were with such a loser.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Aw honey, I’m not blaming you. I just want you to be adored. I want you to experience what it’s like to be in a relationship with somebody who thinks you’ve hung the moon.”

  “I want to be in a relationship with someone who thinks I’ve hung the moon too, Mom.” Stretching out on the sofa, I add, “But what I really need right now is a break. If I start going out on dates, it’s not going to be for the purpose of finding a husband. It’s going to be so I can have some plain old-fashioned fun.”

  My mom winks and slaps her thigh. “I’m one hundred percent on board with that!”

  I don’t explain that her idea of fun is probably not the same as mine. Let her think I’m out bed-hopping like a tree frog if it makes her happy. I just want to go dancing or bowling. Miniature golfing even.

  After grabbing a quick bite to eat, I take my laptop upstairs with me. Then I start the bathtub and add my favorite grapefruit-scented bubble bath. When it’s full, I turn on the voice prompt on my computer and climb in.

  Once I’m soaking in the heavenly warmth, I start brainstorming questions for our first dating event at the lodge.

  What kind of movies do you like?

  How many kids are in your family?

  Have you ever been married?

  Would you rather camp or stay at a resort?

  Where is your ideal place to live?

  Are you looking for a serious relationship?

  Are you into sports?

  While most of these questions are pretty boring, I feel like it’s the little stuff you have to have in common in order for a relationship to succeed.

 
The longer I soak, the more resolved I am to put all thoughts of romance with Geoffrey behind me. I also decide that if I’m going to put my plan to date casually into motion, I’m going to need to set my sights on other men. Maybe I’ll participate in one of the dating events if they go well.

  My mom’s voice breaks into my thoughts. She’s singing at the top of her lungs, so I stop dictating to appreciate her latest lyrics.

  You think I want candlelight and sweet, sweet words of love,

  You offer me the moon, the stars, and even the sun above.

  But darlin’ you can put those crazy ideas on the shelf,

  Someone needs to tell you; the dishes don’t do themselves.

  Kiss my lips or kiss my butt,

  It’s entirely up to you.

  But sugar if you don’t pick up your mess,

  I’m telling you now, we’re through.

  She starts plucking the strings on her banjo wildly before belting out:

  Rubber gloves, my honey love, are what I give to you,

  Keep the toilet scrubbed, my sore feet rubbed,

  And I might just come through.

  With kisses, cuddles, and all the snuggles

  And the fun that might entail.

  But darlin’, if you don’t start helping out

  You’ll have more fun in jail.

  My mother writes the craziest stuff, but people can’t seem to get enough of her songs. It doesn’t hurt that Tooty can belt out the words like she’s sending a message to heaven above. Once again, I think of my sister Lu, and wish that we had the same kind of relationship.

  This thought leads me back to Geoffrey. I’m actually quite impressed that he’s going home to his family. If they’re as close as they sound, then I’m sure he misses them terribly.

  I’m going to miss being in close physical proximity with my tribe while I’m in Oregon, but Romaine is so busy being famous and Lu is so busy trying to avoid us all, I might as well be an only child.

  When I get out of the tub, I wrap myself up in my favorite robe and crawl into bed. I pick up my phone before I can talk myself out of it and dial Geoffrey’s number.

  He answers after one ring. “Claire, are you okay?”

  “I’m good,” I tell him, knowing full well that people in our age group hardly ever call. But I didn’t want to text, I wanted to hear how his voice sounds when he answers my questions.

  “Oh, okay then, what’s up?”

  “I want to bounce some questions off you for our dating event, if you have the time. Answer them as if you were at the event. That way, we can see if they work.”

  “Sure.” He sounds cautious.

  “Before I ask them, I want to say that I think it’s great you love your family so much you want to move home.”

  “Uh-huh.” He’s not much of a conversationalist tonight, is he?

  Okay, onto work. I ask him, “When you fall in love, will you put your significant other’s needs above your family’s?”

  “Not before we’re married, no.”

  “Are you a bath or shower kind of guy?”

  “Shower.”

  “Are you looking for a serious relationship?”

  “No,” Geoffrey says.

  I’m getting a little frustrated with these one-word answers. “What kind of movies do you like?”

  “I’m partial to French films.” Wow, five words, call the Guinness Book of World’s Records!

  I’m glad I asked him these questions. Geoffrey and I have nothing in common. No things. Zip, zero… French films?

  “Have you come up with any questions?” I ask him, wondering if the guy’s take is totally different.

  “I’ve been a little preoccupied lately,” he says.

  “So, no questions?”

  “No.” It’s the man’s favorite word and it’s really starting to piss me off.

  “Listen, Claire, I’m beat,” he says. “I really need to get some sleep.”

  “Oh, sure, fine.” I hang up before saying goodnight. Talking to Geoffrey is like talking to someone with a split personality. One minute he’s all flirty and fun like Hugh Grant in those old romcoms, and the next he’s Hannibal Lecter.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Ruby

  While either one of her sons and his girlfriend could be pregnant, Ruby would place money on it being Brogan and Addy. They’ve been together longer, so it makes more sense that they’re the ones.

  Ruby looks at her watch to make sure it’s a decent hour before calling her oldest son. He’s having a house built up on the ridge while staying in one of the cabins. Addie is up in Portland during the week designing a new hotel, but she comes to Spartan on the weekends.

  Brogan picks up after only one ring. “Hey, Mom. What’s up?”

  “Where are you?” Ruby asks. There’s no cell reception in the cabins and there’s no construction noise in the background.

  “I’m up in Portland with Addie.”

  “Put me on speaker phone,” Ruby demands.

  Moments later, she hears, “Hey, Ruby.”

  “I think there’s something the two of you need to tell me,” Ruby replies.

  Silence.

  Brogan finally asks, “Why do you think that?”

  “I’ve got my sources,” she tells them.

  “How could you possibly know already?” Addie asks. “It just happened last night!”

  Ruby realizes they can’t possibly be talking about the same thing. While it’s feasible Tom might have early intel on the other side, there’s no way that Addy and Brogan would already know if they made a baby last night.

  “Well, I know, and I want confirmation,” she bluffs, wondering what they’re talking about.

  “Addie has agreed to become my wife,” Brogan announces.

  “Oh, my GOD!!! I knew you two were meant to be, I just knew it!”

  “Thank you for fixing us up, Ruby. We owe all of our happiness to you,” Addie says.

  When Ruby hangs up the phone, she feels so happy she could burst. She hurries to get dressed so she can go down and talk with Claire about their first dating event. After a success of this magnitude, she’s more certain than ever she has the magic touch for bringing people together.

  Geoffrey

  Claire is standing out on her front porch when I walk out the door for work. I hear her yell, “If you don’t hurry, Mom, I’m taking the car!”

  “Hey, neighbor,” I call out to her, hoping she isn’t upset about how our telephone conversation ended last night.

  Claire spins around and scowls at me. “Are you talking to me?”

  “Who else would I be talking to?”

  “I don’t know, Geoffrey. That’s why I’m asking.” I think it’s safe to say she’s not pleased with me.

  “Yes, Claire, I’m talking to you. Good morning.”

  “Hi.” She turns around and faces the other direction.

  “Would you like a ride into work?” I ask, trying to sound as pleasant as possible.

  Sharon pops her head out the front door in time to hear my offer and replies for Claire. “That would be wonderful, Geoffrey, thank you! I wanted to drive up to the falls today, but I went and overslept.”

  “You’re welcome,” I tell her. When Claire makes no move to walk across her lawn to my driveway, I ask, “Would you like me to drive over there and pick you up?”

  She sticks her pointer finger out at her mom and warns, “Next time I’m just going to leave.” Then she turns around and storms in my direction.

  Once we’re both in my car, I offer, “I’m sorry if I was a little short on the phone last night. There’s a lot going on in my life right now.”

  “You’re not the only one who has a lot going on, Geoffrey.”

  “I know that. I was just pretty tired out when you called,” I try to explain.

  “Be that as it may, Ruby has asked us both to work on this project. I really do need a man
to bounce some ideas off of.”

  “Understood,” I tell her. “I’m curious, why does it matter if people take showers or baths?”

  “What kind of question would you ask instead?” She still sounds snippy.

  Pulling out of my driveway, I suggest, “How about, are there certain foods you don’t eat.”

  “Why would that matter?”

  “What if one person is vegan and the other a hardcore meat eater? Or what if one of them is allergic to peanut butter and peanut butter is the other’s favorite food? That might present some problems.”

  “Fine.” She pulls a pad of paper out of her purse and writes it down.

  “Also, you should ask how many kids the other person sees themself having. This gives them the perfect opportunity to gauge whether they’re envisioning the same kind of future.”

  She writes that one down in her book as well, before asking, “How many kids do you want?”

  “Anywhere from four to eight. How about you?”

  “I’d be fine with two,” she says. “Good luck finding a woman who wants to give birth eight times.”

  “My mom had seven kids. Surely there must be some women out there who want a big family.”

  “Hopefully they like French films,” she says, sounding disgusted.

  “French films are wonderful,” I tell her. “Have you seen any?”

  “I haven’t, but they sound pretentious.”

  “How do you know if you’ve never seen one?” I’m risking having my head bitten off, but I’m having fun sparring with her.

  “Have you ever jumped off a glacier into the ocean stark naked?” she demands.

  “Nooooooooo.”

  “I’m guessing the experience doesn’t sound very pleasing.”

  “I’m not quite sure how you’ve come upon this example, but even though I’ve never skinny-dipped in the Arctic, I’m fairly certain it’s nothing like watching a French film.”