Mason leaves not long after, and Anders and I convince Gabriel to cook. After an admittedly delicious dinner (chicken alfredo for the win), I text Lucy.
Thank you for lunch today. I had a wonderful time discussing philosophy with you. I’m honored to know a woman who can challenge me intellectually like you can.
Three dots appear. Then disappear. Then reappear again.
But a message never comes through.
Johan, however, calls.
“Hey, Fins. How is everything going?” he asks in Korsan. I switch back to my native tongue.
“I told her who I was and she threw up.”
“Attaans!How was your delivery? Did you use your royal tone or were you just Finley?”
Recalling that moment in the car, I definitely slipped into using my state official tone. “I was nervous! I’m into this woman, Jojo.”
“You’ve dated so many women. How is she different? What makes her special?”
I liein bed, images of Lucy’s beautiful face, intelligent eyes, and kind gestures filling my vision. “She’s smart, Jojo.Reallysmart. She may know more than I do. And she’s intentional and kind to and with those around her. You should have seen how she treated the wait staff on our first date. At church, she flitted around the room, making everyone feel seen and heard. Well, except me. It took her a minute to notice I was there. She’s beautiful, of course. Put together, clean, professional. Jojo… I can already tell she’d make an amazing queen.”
Johan breathes heavily through the phone. “Ah, Fins. You sound like you are in love.”
My heart quickens though rational thought rebukes his statement. “Pft.I can’t be in love. I’ve only known her for two days. The wedding back in December doesn’t count. Whoever that version of her was, she’s long gone. People don’t fall in love over a weekend.”
“Don’t they?” Johan asks, and I can hear the wonder in his tone. Because that’s exactly what happened when he met his wife, Marie. It was instant love and connection between the two of them, and it’s only grown more fortified over their seven years together.
Could that be Lucy and me seven years down the road…?
No. She obviously isn’t smitten like I am. Most women would be excited for an impromptu date if they liked a man.
“No, they don’t. You and Marie are a rare story.”
There is a crash on the other end of the line. “Johan! Is everything okay?”
A second passes before he answers. “Yes, sorry. A tremor got the best of me and I dropped the phone.”
My heart sinks. “Is it becoming more frequent?”
“No. Just at random. It’s the fatigue getting to me most days.” He laughs mirthlessly. “Who would have thought a man could be diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease at thirty-two?”
“Not me. But it’s okay. You will have the best care in the world. I will make sure of it.”
Johan sighs. “I’m so sorry you’re being thrust into my role, Finley. I know you didn’t want it. And I want to reiterate what I said when you were home last week: I am withyouevery step of the way. We will share duties for as long as I can.”
As long as he can…Because there will come a day when he can no longer function without assistance. I try hard to believe that God has a reason for everything, but sometimes it’s hard to remember that when life-altering news knocks on your door and uproots your known, thriving life. My brother has Parkinson’s, and I will be King of Korsa in a year.
We chat for a little longer about the brief stalker encounter before Marie calls him off for lunch. (I momentarily forgot about the time difference.) Once I’m off the phone, my thoughts instantly drift back to Lucy. She still hasn’t messaged back.
To distract myself, I grab my laptop and respond to correspondences with different ministries within ourRiiksdaag.I pour over financial reports. Around midnight, Mason comes home, but I stay tucked in my room and continue analyzing different laws up for vote.
That’s also the time my phone lights up with a message from Lucy. Grabbing the phone at warp speed, I also end up hoisting the forest green blanket on the bed to my face. When I drop theblanket, I accidentally drop the phone. I scramble again, finally securing just the phone in my hand, huffing a breath through my nose over my unreasonable reaction to a little text.
Sorry it took me so long to respond. I was writing. I look forward to the Gardens with you on Thursday. And just so you’re aware… I cut my bangs. I hope you’ll like them even though you said I shouldn’t.
I can hear the sadness in her text. At least, I perceive and read it in a crestfallen tone in my head, and that’s when I realize a huge error on my end.
Never tell a woman what she should do with her hair.
