The Royals Next Door

by Karina Halle

  Monica sighs and wipes her tears with the heel of her palm, her lower lip pouting. “I guess so. Doesn’t mean I’m not sad about it.”

  “We’re all sad about it,” Harrison speaks up. He clears his throat, looking thoughtfully at them. “The two of you are the only people I’ve really known for such a long time. There was the army, and then there was Eddie, and then there was you, Monica. To be honest, I’m having trouble myself coming to terms with what’s happening.” He glances at me and gives me a warm smile, the kind of smile that makes my heart leap. “I’ve talked about this with Piper a lot. She knows I want to stay. That I’m choosing my new life here. But that new life is still scary, and it’s going to be different. And I wish you could stay here in this house for as long as you can, but I understand that you can’t. You’re doing what’s best for you both, and what’s best for the baby.”

  Monica sniffles. “Damn it, Harrison. Don’t make me cry again.”

  “Technically you never stopped,” he points out.

  “Oh,” she grumbles, waving him away dismissively.

  “Hey, come on,” Eddie says, walking toward us. “I didn’t invite you both here so we could sit around and cry all night. I invited you here so we could celebrate. Say goodbye to the old times, welcome in the new beginnings. And get rightly smashed.”

  He raises his glass of wine.

  We raise ours.

  Monica raises her mug of tea.

  “To the best next-door neighbors a girl could ever hope for,” I say to them. “Despite the men in trees, and the paparazzi camping outside the gate, to throwing this handsome, grumpy, sunglass-wearing mystery man my way, I couldn’t have asked for a more eventful summer. You changed my life. And it won’t feel quite like home without you both next door. All I know is that I am immensely grateful that you brought Harrison into my life. At least I get to keep him.”

  Harrison puts his arm around my waist and kisses the top of my head. “You’ll never be rid of me.”

  “He’s not joking,” Eddie says with a laugh. “The man will become your shadow—you’ll never be able to shake him.”

  I grin up at Harrison. “I’m counting on it.”

  Epilogue

  Two Years Later

  “They’re heeeeeeeere,” my mother says, channeling the creepy little girl from Poltergeist.

  Except she’s not holding on to a staticky TV, but poking her head out onto the deck where I’m sitting with Harrison, nursing a glass of wine. It’s the middle of summer, the sun is hot and glinting off the waves below us, and the two of us have been out here all afternoon, getting sufficiently buzzed while waiting for the arrival of our favorite people.

  You guessed it, Monica, Eddie, and baby Madeline have finally made it back to our rock on the Pacific. Honestly, when we first parted ways, I doubted I’d see them again. It felt like their fairy-tale presence was only for a brief moment in my life, perhaps just enough to bring Harrison and me together, like a pair of enchanted matchmakers. I mean, it feels absolutely unreal at times that Harrison and I are together (let alone engaged, but more on that later), the royal bodyguard and the small-town schoolteacher. The last thing I expected was to still be friends with a duke and duchess.

  And yet, here we are. I’ve managed to keep in touch with Monica, texting with her at least a couple of times a month. She listens to my podcast too—she says it helps her sleep, but whatever, I’ll take it as a compliment.

  Of course Harrison has kept in touch with them as well, talking to Eddie often. It just took two years for them to finally find the time to come here. They’ve tacked it on to a trip down to Seattle to see Monica’s parents, but they haven’t told anyone except us, so it’s kind of secret.

  Or at least that’s the plan. I’m just waiting for the helicopters to start showing up.

  “Bert got them okay?” Harrison asks my mother as he gets to his feet.

  “Yes, they should be here any minute,” she says just as the timer dings from the kitchen. “Oh, and the pie is ready.”

  “Mom, they just got here after an incredibly long journey. You think the first thing they’re going to want is pie?”

  “Oh, sweetie, don’t be such a pastry hater,” she says with a dismissive wave, heading toward the kitchen.

  Harrison makes a tsking sound as he holds his hand out for me. “You know nothing interrupts our pie Sundays.”

  I put my hand in his, and he effortlessly hauls me to my feet, then places a kiss on the top of my head.

  Pie Sundays are a thing now. Well, they have been since Harrison opened his bakery. I swear to god that job keeps him busier than being a royal bodyguard did. He’s up before dawn, working crazy-long hours, and yet he still finds time to make a pie with my mother on Sundays, which I find incredibly sweet, since I know he just wants to relax and do nothing on his day off.

  But it means something to my mom, especially since we got engaged. She really wants to make him a part of the family, which has been pretty easy considering she lives next door to us.

  And us, well, we’re in the mansion.

  Naturally, a schoolteacher salary and owning a bakery does not buy a house of this magnitude, but what does is a tell-all book. Harrison wrote one (I helped, but that’s neither here nor there), with Monica and Eddie’s permission, of course. The thing is, the book wasn’t really about the royals. It was more about baking, with some personal stuff interspersed in there.

  And by personal, I mean it was really all about Harrison. He talked about his youth, his family, growing up, the army, being a bodyguard, and finally being a baker on a small island on the Salish Sea. Since he’s such a private person by nature, it really pushed him out of his comfort zone to open up, especially about the nitty-gritty. But as he’s said a few times before, fuck the part of society that doesn’t understand, and I couldn’t be more proud of him for being so honest and vulnerable. There’s really nothing sexier.

  It did extremely well. It definitely helped that I convinced him to do TikTok videos for a bit, which in part really helped promote the book, and it became a runaway success.

  So now we live in the mansion, and my mother and Bert live next door to us.

  They’re officially together now. Not engaged or anything like that. I’m not really sure if either of them will take that step, even though my mom does seem to be warming up to the idea. But they’re honestly the sweetest thing and so good for each other. Bert is a real take-charge, protective guy, which is perfect for her, and she’s still going to her therapy and taking her meds. Sometimes there are setbacks, but with an arsenal of people who love her around, she always gets back on her feet. Of course, she has Liza, who runs around on the compound, using the doggy doors to each house, just like we’d imagined.

  “Shall we go meet the mini royal?” Harrison says, grabbing my hand.

  “Of course.” We step inside, and I yell at my mother in the kitchen. “When you’re done fussing with the pie, can you get the white wine out of the fridge? That’s what they’re going to want first, believe me.”

  “Which one? You have a million bottles,” she asks, staring at the fridge.

  “The Garry Oaks Pinot Gris,” I tell her. I don’t normally have a million bottles in the fridge; it’s just that we had a small party on Friday night, just me and Harrison, Cynthia and her new boyfriend, and Georgia and her husband. We try to do a couples thing every other week, just to keep me from going into my antisocial hermit zone, and I have to say it’s really helped me stay connected to society, especially during the summer, when I’m not with the kids every day. I’ve made some deep, lasting friendships in this place, and, coupled with Harrison’s business and working with the public every day, I no longer feel like an outsider. Just takes a bit of effort sometimes on my part.

  Harrison and I walk through the house and step onto the driveway just as we see the gates open and Bert’s RCMP
vehicle pull up to the house. I cringe a little—for some reason I expected him to pick them up in a black SUV, and yet here they are, being deposited like they’re being dropped off at a police station.

  After an amused glance at Harrison, I can tell he’s thinking the same thing.

  Nevertheless, the doors open and they step out. Eddie, Monica, and little Madeline.

  “Hey!” Eddie cries out, jogging over to Harrison and wrapping him in a tight hug before he does the same to me. He’s dressed down in a polo shirt and jeans and looks as relaxed as he did the last time he was here. “We made it.”

  “Got them here in one piece,” Bert says proudly as he exits the vehicle just as James, the bodyguard, gets out the passenger side. He gives me a polite nod as a greeting.

  But I’m already looking at Monica, who is as beautiful as ever in a sundress. She’s still glowing, so obviously that’s nothing to do with pregnancy; it’s just who she is.

  “Piper,” she says to me in a subdued squeal, and we have a quick embrace. “So good to finally see you.” She smiles down at Madeline, who has the gangly limbs of Eddie and the dark hair of Monica. She’s shy, barely making eye contact, but she radiates the same kind of calm energy that her mother does. “This is Madeline. Madeline, do you want to say hi to Piper?”

  “Hello,” Madeline says quietly.

  It looks like what Madeline really wants to do is bury her head against Monica’s leg, and I’ve never related to a kid more. I want to tell her that I get that way when meeting new people too, except this kid is a royal and she’s been trained to push past that discomfort and put on a good face, something I need to learn.

  “She’s shy,” Monica whispers to me. “Which is a challenge considering who we are.”

  “She’s lovely,” I tell her. “How was your flight over?”

  “Well, Madeline slept for most of it,” Monica says, reaching down and scooping her daughter up into her arms. “And I can tell she’s still a little sleepy. I, on the other hand, was kept up by a book.”

  “What book?”

  A sly smirk plays on her lips, her eyes dancing mischievously. “A book you bought me years ago.”

  I have no clue what she’s talking about. “When did I buy you a book?”

  “Well, it was Harrison who gave it to me, but I know you had something to do with it. At least I hope.” She leans in close to me and whispers in my ear, “It was about pegging. I didn’t even know what that was. I had to look it up, and oh boy.”

  I burst out laughing. “You read that on the plane?”

  She grins at me. “Well, it gave me some ideas for Eddie, at least.”

  I don’t even want to think about the two of them in a compromising position, but I’m saved by my mother appearing at the front door in her apron, proudly displaying her baked goods.

  “I hope you’re all starving, because it’s pie time!” my mother exclaims, grinning at us before disappearing into the house.

  “Don’t worry,” I say to the royals as we head inside. “There’s wine and beer too. Figured that’s what you really need.”

  “No wonder we get along so well,” Monica says to me with a grin. “I feel like I’ve got lost time to make up for, since I couldn’t drink a drop last time.”

  “Well, considering you’re staying with us for a week, let’s not get carried away,” Harrison warns.

  “I see you’re still no fun, Harrison,” she says to him, playfully smacking his arm.

  I grab Harrison’s hand and give it a squeeze, watching as the duke and duchess walk inside their old house, Bert leading the way, the hunky Scot James trailing after them. I look up at my fiancé. “Don’t worry, I think you’re fun.”

  “Only because you’ve rubbed off on me, love,” he says, lifting my hand to his mouth and placing a kiss on the back of it, his eyes boring into mine. “Though it seems I still have a lot to learn.”

  “Eh,” I say with a mock shrug. “You’ll get there one day. After all, I’m a good teacher.”

  He breaks into a grin, making him look devastatingly handsome, before he leans in and kisses me sweetly on the lips. “The best.”

  Then we walk back inside our house to be with the people we love.

  Author’s Note

  When I sit down to write, I usually have a simple plot or trope figured out, and then I work on character, chiseling away at it like I’m uncovering something that already exists, until the character reveals itself to me.

  Sometimes my characters are the furthest thing from my personality; other times it’s like some deep, dark part of me is channeling through. And though The Royals Next Door is a lighthearted romantic comedy, there was something I revealed in Piper which in turn revealed something about myself.

  Bit of a backstory: I have ADHD, something I’ve written about a few times in the past, and the truth is, I only got diagnosed after I was doing research for my character Magnus in The Wild Heir. It was his character that made me realize who I truly was, and that diagnosis was absolutely life-changing for me.

  That said, I didn’t expect there to be any more surprises for me, and certainly not through Piper. But while doing research, I came to suspect that I too have complex post-traumatic stress disorder (or C-PTSD), brought on by events in my childhood. It was surprising to find a name for it, and it completely explained my thought process at times, and my reaction to certain triggers. It’s not as debilitating as PTSD, but it’s certainly an affliction, and as Piper navigated her life with this, as well as her anxiety (which I also have . . . really hammering home the neurotic-writer stereotype, aren’t I?), it gave me coping skills of my own.

  And even though I don’t have BPD or DPD, as Piper’s mother has, I have been in Piper’s position and have a lot of experience when it comes to loved ones being affected. Her relationship with her mother, as complicated as it is, is truthful, and writing it revealed some things about myself when it comes to handling the afflicted.

  I know neurodiversity and mental health disorders aren’t common subjects in romance novels, but I truly hope they become a more inclusive part of the landscape. It’s staggeringly common for people to be affected by a range of disorders, whether it’s in themselves or someone they love. The more we talk about mental health and create dialogue without shame or judgment, the more the stigma will fade away.

  So I raise my glass to Piper, to myself, and to anyone else who feels alone because they don’t fit in or aren’t represented by the world at large. Just know that you deserve all the happily-ever-afters to come.

  Acknowledgments

  Sometimes acknowledgments are the hardest part of the book. There’s usually a lot of people to thank, and despite having sixty novels under my belt so far, each book still requires so much support from the people around me. Though writing is a solitary profession (for the most part), no writer is truly alone when it comes to producing a novel. It really does take a village to lift you up, keep you going, and help you make the book the best it can be.

  And I needed a village for The Royals Next Door. This was the first book I’d written since the pandemic started, so there was definitely some extra friction there when it came to creating something fun, light, and sexy in the midst of so much trauma, sorrow, and chaos. I couldn’t have gotten this book done without the people who truly believed in me: my parents; my super-agent, Taylor, who fell in love with the idea within a sentence and told me to run with it; my amazing editors, Sarah Blumenstock and Cindy Hwang (I am in awe of your talent, skills, and tireless patience with me); everyone I’ve had the pleasure to work with at Berkley; my film agent, Alice Lawson; Nina Grinstead; Colet Abedi; Anna Todd; Kathleen Tucker; Tarryn Fisher; Sandra Cortez; Laura Helseth; all the wonderful bookstagrammers who create such gorgeous art and share my work; every member of my FB group (shout-out to the Anti-Heroes!); all my readers who have stuck with me; Meghan Markle Stan Twitter for p
roviding inspiration; and the locals of Salt Spring Island (my home). And to anyone picking up this book: you’re the reason I get to do what I do.

  To Scott (and Bruce): I love you. Thank you for loving me.

  DON’T MISS

  The Royals Upstairs

  COMING FALL 2022 FROM BERKLEY JOVE!

  James

  It’s bloody cold, I’ll tell you that much.

  I’m standing on the side of a runway in what feels like the middle of Norway and have been freezing my bollocks off for a good twenty minutes at least. It’s early December, but there’s already a fresh layer of snow on the ground, and though it’s nearly three in the afternoon, the sun is already setting, suspending the air in this murky kind of twilight. My new employer, Magnus, the Crown Prince of Norway, arranged for a private jet to take me from London to this tiny airstrip, and I’m supposed to meet one of his advisors, who will take me to the nearby Skaugum Estate, where the prince and princess live—my home for the foreseeable future.

  I gather my coat collar tighter around me, snowflakes sticking in my hair, wishing I had brought a scarf. When I did my research about Norway, everyone always said that it wasn’t as cold as the stereotype and that it rarely snowed in December, but boy were they fucking wrong.

  Finally a black SUV screeches to a stop outside the chain-link fence and a man practically falls out of the vehicle, his shoes slipping on the ice. He holds on to the hood, arms splayed, legs slowly sliding apart before he manages to take another step. He straightens up unsteadily, then looks at the ground between us, seeming to have second thoughts.

  “Mr. Hunter?” he yells over in a light Norwegian accent.

  “That’s me,” I tell him. “Are you Ottar?”

  “Ja,” he says. “Would you mind if I stayed here? I don’t think my shoes can handle the ice.”

  I stare at him for a moment. He’s on the portly side, though he has a boyish face and black glasses. But the more I stare at him, the more I realize that half his face is banged up. Maybe it’s best that he stay where he is.