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

by Whitney Dineen

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Sharon

  “Let’s go to the lodge for breakfast,” Tooty tells Sharon while they refill their coffee mugs in the kitchen.

  “I don’t know, Toot. Claire might freak out if we show up when she’s not expecting us.”

  “What’s it to her where we eat breakfast? I want to see Alfred and Charlotte and catch up with them, don’t you? I just can’t believe Geoffrey is their son.”

  “I’d love to talk to them, but Claire’s having a tough time,” Sharon says with a frown furrowing her brow.

  “Tough time, my aunt Fanny. She just found out her boyfriend is a prince. Boohoo, life is so hard.” She rubs her fist to her eyes like she’s really crying.

  “Tooty, have some compassion.”

  “I’ve got compassion coming out my nose, but that girl isn’t using common sense.”

  “What do you think she should be doing that she’s not already doing?” Sharon demands.

  “She needs to fight for her man! Lord knows she’s grown up on your songs; she should have learned a thing or two.” Slamming her mug down, Tooty demands, “Did you or did you not sing her to sleep with, “Break His Knees Before He Leaves?”

  “I did. But I don’t think breaking Geoffrey’s knees is going to cull any favor with his family.”

  “It’s a figure of speech, Sharon! I’m not suggesting she go all Kathy Bates in Misery on him, but she is not without her weapons.” Then sticking her chest out as far as she can, she adds, “Thing one and thing two can be very persuasive when they need to be.”

  Sharon shakes her head. “I have a feeling I’m gonna be drunk by noon.”

  Tooty winks at her sister. “Me too. Let’s get at it.”

  Claire

  I have no idea why Geoffrey’s mom is being so nice to me. She and her husband are surely behind the royal dictate that their son not form a long-term attachment with an inappropriate woman, i.e., me.

  I make a show of eating while the queen talks, but I’m counting the seconds until I can break free. I’m about to do so when I spot my mom and aunt walking into the restaurant.

  Tooty hollers across the room, “Charlotte, Alfred, come give me some sugar!!!”

  The whole restaurant stops talking and stares at my aunt. I want to crawl under the table and die.

  Alfred is the first to his feet. “Tooty Jackson, is that you? What are you doing here?” Then in six giant steps, he crosses the room to meet her.

  Tooty throws her arms around him and dances around in a circle, before offering a little curtsy. When Charlotte reaches them, she hugs both Mom and Tooty and declares, “What are the chances we’d be staying at the same lodge as country music royalty?”

  My aunt nudges her in the arm and says, “Us royalty have good taste, huh? But I’m not actually staying here. I’m staying at Claire’s house.”

  The king turns to me and demands, “Why?”

  Thank goodness they’re all narrowing in on the table and have stopped shouting across the room. Tooty tells him, “Claire’s my niece.”

  The king motions for me to stand up and come over, where he proceeds to line me up next to my mom and aunt. “What do you know about that? I can see the resemblance.” Then he looks at Geoffrey and asks, “Did you know Claire was related to Tooty Jackson?”

  He nods his head.

  While everyone is busy being introduced to my aunt and mom, I slip away. I need some fresh air or I’m going to implode. Too many thoughts, too many feelings are crowding my brain for space.

  I practically run through the kitchen and out the back door where I proceed to pace like I’m trying to wear a hole in the pavement. My family is sitting inside eating with Geoffrey’s family like they’re long-lost friends and yet I’m not good enough for him? I’d be lying if I said that didn’t hurt.

  I thought long and hard about what Tara said about Geoffrey not being a cheater, and I woke up this morning believing it. In my heart of hearts, I know he’s nothing like Jack. He’s gone out of his way to keep things casual between us. I’m the one who’s pushed for more.

  I don’t blame him for not running after me that night. I was so full of anger I probably scared him off. I should have talked to him this morning when he wanted to, but even though I no longer think he’s a cheater, he’s still a liar. That’s just as bad in my book.

  My angel whispers in my ear, “He didn’t lie.”

  I tell her that a lie of omission is still a lie and if she doesn’t pipe down I’m going to super glue her lips shut.

  I’m about to walk around the building so I can enter without having to go through the kitchen or walk by the dining room, when Geoffrey comes out.

  “Claire.” The sound of my name on his lips is enough to unleash another storm of deep emotion. My body physically aches with grief. Why can’t I pull myself together?

  He comes over to me and pulls me into his arms. I go willingly. “We’re going to work everything out, okay?”

  “I know nothing happened between you and Cheryl.”

  “What changed your mind?”

  “I always knew it. But you were running so hot and cold with me, I just got mixed up. I decided it was easier to think you were cheating than think you could just walk away from me. Plus, now I know the truth.”

  “What truth do you think you know?” he asks, while rubbing my back and holding me tightly.

  “You’re a prince and I'm nothing,” I tell him.

  “You are everything, Claire. You are the most wonderful woman I’ve ever known. I didn’t tell you who I was because I signed an agreement with my family that, while I lived in America, I would keep my identity secret. I wasn’t lying to you; I was honoring my word.”

  “Are you going home with them when they leave?” My voice is so soft I can barely hear my own words.

  “I still have a month,” he says. “Once this weekend is over, we’ll work everything out, okay? Let’s enjoy this time with our families without complicating things.”

  I nod my head which bumps into his chin. “I’m sorry I’ve been so mean. I just didn’t know what to do with all of my emotions.”

  Geoffrey pushes me away just far enough that he can look into my eyes. I see my own feelings mirrored in his gaze: pain, frustration, longing. I’m about to start crying again.

  “No more tears,” he croons gently. “Let’s go back in and finish breakfast.”

  I let him lead me by the hand while forcing myself not to worry what his family is going to think when they see us. I want to get to know Geoffrey’s family. I do not want to feel riddled with anxiety for the rest of the weekend.

  As soon as we arrive at the table, my mom jumps up and says, “Claire, look who’s here!”

  I look past her to my sister. “Lu? What are you doing here?”

  If the look on her face is anything to go on, she’s as confused as I am. “Mom invited me. Didn’t she tell you?”

  I shake my head and redirect my gaze to the chief troublemaker in my life. She announces, “Lu just told me she was coming a few days ago. I didn’t want to make you more stressed than you already were about this weekend.”

  “So, you thought a surprise would be the best way to handle things?” Of course, she did. I’ve had enough surprises lately that I could open my own “Surprise!” store. I know that’s not a thing, but I’m pretty worked up right now.

  My sister bristles at my reaction, but I really don’t have two figs to give at the moment. I am not Lu’s favorite person, which she has made abundantly clear every time I see her. I very belatedly pull myself together and walk over to her and open my arms. “Hi, Lu.”

  “Hi, Claire,” she says almost sternly.

  “This is Geoffrey,” I wave my hand in his direction.

  “Geoffrey.” She inspects him like he’s mold on cheese.

  “We’ve invited Claire’s family to Chéri’s wedding this afternoon,” the queen announces exci
tedly. Fantastic.

  How much more challenging can this weekend possibly get?

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  The Queen

  Charlotte motions for her husband to come sit by her. When he does, she asks, “Would you agree that Tooty is the queen of country music?”

  “Yes. What’s your point?”

  “My point is, if she’s a queen, then Claire is royal by blood. I guess I don’t have to look into her ancestry after all.”

  Alfred ignores his wife and calls down the table, “Would someone please pass the crepes? I don’t know what you’ve done to them Geoffrey, but I want you to make these for me all the time when you come home.”

  “I grind fresh nutmeg into them and use Oregon-grown marionberries in the syrup.” Geoffrey tells his father, “I could teach you how to make them for yourself before you go.”

  “Could you imagine?” The king starts laughing. “The staff would drop dead if I went in there and tried to cook for myself.”

  “I bet they’d be thrilled to see you,” Geoffrey tells him.

  The king ignores his son and proceeds to ask Tooty, “What are the chances of us getting to hear you sing while we’re here?”

  “Pretty good. I’m singing for Claire’s dating event tonight. I’ll be in the great room by the fireplace.”

  “Dating event?” Charlotte asks. “What dating event is that?”

  “It’s based on that old show from the eighties called Speed Date,” Sharon says.

  Charlotte deepens her voice and excitedly declares, “If you’ve got time to grab a brewski, you’ve got time to fall in love!” Then she claps her hands together. “I loved that show!”

  Her husband sends her a confused look. “I’ve never heard of it.”

  “You were probably too busy taking your ‘future king’ classes. You weren’t common enough for Speed Date,” she says, trying to remind him of the disparity in their upbringings. After seeing Claire and Geoffrey together, Charlotte is convinced that something serious could bloom there if only given the opportunity.

  Geoffrey

  What a bizarre breakfast. I knew last night when I told Sharon and Tooty who I was that they’d want to spend time with my family. My dad is such a Tooty Jackson fan that we all grew up on her music. But now that Claire’s sister has arrived, there’s a new dimension of weirdness going on.

  Lu is every bit as pretty as Claire, but she’s wound tighter than a freshly tuned piano string. It’s almost like she’s translating every word that comes out of her mouth from a foreign language.

  I try to put her ease by asking, “So, Lu, what do you do? Are you in the music business as well?”

  She looks startled that I’m talking to her. “I live in LA,” she says, avoiding either of my questions. Maybe she didn’t hear me or maybe she doesn’t work. Either way, I don’t want to make her any more uncomfortable than she already appears to be, so I don’t repeat the question.

  My brother Alistair is staring at her like she’s a cheeseburger and he’s on day thirty-eight as a Survivor contestant. I kick him under the table to get him to quit acting like such a letch.

  “Why’d you do that?” he yells at me.

  “Sorry, was that your leg?” I don’t sound the least bit sorry.

  He gets up and takes his chair over to Lu’s and puts it down next to her. She does not look pleased, nor does she look at him at all.

  He leans in and says something to her so quietly I can’t hear it. Meanwhile, Lu looks like she’d rather take a bath with a stingray than sit next to my brother. He doesn’t seem the least bit concerned.

  Chéri stands up and announces, “If we keep sitting here, it’s going to be time for lunch. The baby and I need a nap before the wedding, so if you’ll excuse us.” Brigitte stands up to join her.

  Ruby hurries up to the table as they leave, and says, “I hate to interrupt, but I need to talk to Claire for a minute.” Claire jumps up like her heels are on fire.

  After they’re gone, I continue to watch the dynamics at the table. My dad is monopolizing Tooty, my mom is talking to Sharon, Brigitte’s family are talking to each other in French, my siblings barely stop eating to talk to anyone—with the exception of Alistair, who is making an ass out of himself over Lu.

  I feel like I should save her, so I say, “Lu, can I steal you away for a couple of minutes?” She looks spooked, but she still pushes her chair away from the table.

  My brother starts to get up as well, so I tell him, “Not you, Alistair.”

  “I was just going to stretch my legs.” He winks at Lu.

  “Down boy. You can stretch your legs in five minutes, but not a second sooner.” Then I offer Claire’s sister my arm and lead her out of the dining room.

  Once we’re safely out of sight, I say, “I’m sorry about my brother. He’s a bit of a ladies’ man and it doesn’t occur to him that there are any women in the world who aren’t interested.”

  She doesn’t answer me. So, I ask, “Are you staying here or over at Claire’s?”

  “I assumed I was staying at Claire’s. But I have no idea what’s going on now.”

  “That seems to be a common feeling.” When she looks at me with a blank expression, I add, “My family surprised me by coming this weekend. We knew we had a couple big events; we just didn’t know who booked them.”

  Lu looks appalled. “That’s horrible.”

  “They thought it would be a fun surprise.”

  “No surprise is a good surprise,” Lu replies. Her sapphire blue eyes spark with severity. I thought Claire was intense when we first met, but she’s an amateur compared to her sister.

  Lu instigates her first question. “What are you to my sister?”

  “I’m her friend and co-worker.”

  “Bullshit.”

  We just arrived at the great room, so I ask, “Would you like to sit down by the fire?”

  She shrugs her shoulders as if she has no preference whether we stand, sit, or hang by our toenails from the chandelier. This woman makes me nervous. I decide to sit down.

  She follows suit after a moment of contemplation. “I believe the last thing I said was, bullshit. It’s your turn to talk now.”

  Oooooookay. “Claire and I decided to be friends to get everyone off the idea that we could be more than that.” I hurry to add, “Your mother and my boss Ruby decided that we should date.”

  “Why can’t you date?” she asks with barely an inflection in her tone.

  “I’m moving home after my thirtieth birthday and I’m expected to marry someone from Malquar. Starting a relationship before I left didn’t seem prudent.”

  Claire’s sister crosses one blue-jean-clad leg over the other before saying, “That obviously didn’t stop you.”

  I exhale the breath I feel like I’ve been holding all morning. “Friendship has a way of leading to other things.”

  “It doesn’t have to lead to anything if you don’t let it.”

  I had this super strict tutor when I was in primary school. The man would force me to sit in a closet with a flashlight and only my Latin book for company if I didn’t know the answer to his questions. My parents fired him when they found out. The reason I’m saying this is because Lutèce makes Mr. Fritz seem like a teddy bear in comparison.

  “I don’t think we always have control over our emotions,” I tell her, hoping to hell she won’t attack me with the fireplace poker. She seriously scares me.

  “You mean you don’t always choose to control your emotions,” she tells me.

  Something serious must have happened to this woman to make her such a tough case. I can’t imagine anyone is born like this. But nothing good can come from engaging in a full-out battle with her, so I say, “I like your sister very much, and if I weren’t leaving, I would certainly want something to grow from our friendship.”

  “What you’re saying is that Claire isn’t good enough for you.” I watch as her gaze real
ly does veer toward the fireplace tools. That must run in the family.

  “Claire is probably too good for me, but there are expectations.”

  “You aren’t the heir,” she points out accurately. “Plenty of royals throughout history have had the guts to step out of royal life for love. There’s obviously King Edward the Eighth, but in more modern times there was Prince Friso of the Netherlands and Princess Ubolratana Rajakanya of Thailand. They both chose love over royalty. I bet Prince Charles would have handed over the crown if it meant he couldn’t have married Camilla.”

  “You know a lot about royal history.”

  She scrunches up her face like she smells something foul. “I like a good romance as much as anyone.”

  I can’t imagine. She seems more like someone who would rather witness a public hanging than a romantic encounter. While I care for Claire very much, we’ve only been dating for a very short time. I need to hurry up and figure out if letting our relationship progress is worth all the trouble it would cause.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Sharon

  “I’m so glad you’ve had a chance to meet Claire,” Sharon tells the Queen of Malquar as they stand to leave the breakfast table.

  “I’m glad we got to meet her, as well.”

  “What’s the deal here, Charlotte?” Tooty interjects. “Geoffrey told us last night that he needs to break things off with Claire because you and Alfred don’t approve. That can’t be true, can it?”

  “I’m working on Alfred,” Charlotte says. “The problem is, he’s very stuck in tradition.”

  “You have a gay daughter marrying her French girlfriend at a lodge in Oregon. How is that traditional?” Tooty demands.

  “It’s not, which is part of the problem. Chéri is her own person and she’s made it clear from a young age that she’s not going to change who she is for anyone.”

  “Nor should she,” Sharon says.

  “Nor should she,” the queen agrees. “The thing with royals is that they have the expectations of their ancestors running through their veins. I wasn’t born royal, so I can tell you in complete candor, it doesn’t make a lot of sense. But it’s who they are.”