"Is that how you greet your brother after he's been gone for so long?"
Her lips quirk up into a tiny grin and she says, "Welcome back. Some people missed you. Not me, of course, but I think Harrison, and obviously Rosy since you’re her favourite."
“Obviously," I say. "But you're not excited at all. I could tell by the way you ran and screamed just now."
“Okay, I may have gotten a little enthusiastic, but only because my baby brother was rolling up in a jet with a giant image of his face plastered to the side of it,” she says with a wicked grin.
Clearing my throat, I say, “I was kind of hoping you wouldn’t notice that.”
“Umm…how could I miss it?” she asks, staring up at it. “You’re like…obnoxiously large. Like I could fit in one of your nostrils. And that smile is just…well, I don’t even know how to describe it.”
I roll my eyes at her, then ask, “Is it too much to hope you didn’t take a bunch of photos and that, if you did, you won’t be sending them to everyone we know?”
She sucks in some air between her teeth and says, “Yeah, too late for that I’m afraid. It’s already happened, and the responses are already blowing up my phone.”
“Huh, suddenly I’ve completely forgotten why I was in such a rush to get home.”
It's late in the evening and I'm at Libby and Harrison's. I've just read Clara one of her bedtime stories and kissed her good night, then left her with Libby to finish the job of getting their four-year-old off to dreamland. I spent the entire evening desperately trying to get little Clara to remember I’m her favourite uncle (not Pierce, thank you very much). Apparently, I was a little too obvious because at one point, she gave me a slightly disgusted look and said, “Uncle Will, I need some space. You’re very clingy.” Luckily, my entire family heard it and will never let me live it down. So there’s that…
But, setting biting preschooler comments aside, for the first time in months, I am in a place where I can let down my guard and not worry about anything. It’s good to be home. However, that’ll all change tomorrow, because I’m going to spend the day with the wedding film crew being interviewed for the pre-wedding special. They’ve brought in one of Avonia’s nastiest human beings, fashion critic Nigel Wood, to do an in-depth look at ‘Who Exactly is William Banks?’ And tomorrow night, my in-laws are going to be arriving on their jet (actually two jets because the reigning monarch and the heir can never travel together). While I’m absolutely thrilled that Arabella is coming, I’m more than a little worried about the blending of our two families—especially because almost all of it will be caught on film. But that’s Future Will’s problem. For now, I’m going to enjoy the moment here at home with my family.
I walk out to the back deck where Harrison, Emma, and her husband, Pierce, are visiting. Rosy and her husband, Darnell, were here for dinner, but they begged off an hour ago since Rosy can only stand to be outside for very short periods of time on account of hating all things nature. Grabbing a beer out of the cooler that sits next to the table, I crack it open and take a seat at the patio table.
Harrison smiles at me. "Did she make you readDon't Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus?"
I chuckle and nod. "She has good taste. That book is hilarious."
"It’s not quite as amusing the two-hundredth time you've read it."
I chuckle a little. "Man, she has grown so much. And the talking…she’s like a miniature adult. "
“More like a tiny nasty comedian doing crowd work all day,” Harrison says.
“When she told Libby to ‘chill sister’ after she spilled her peas on the floor?” I laugh. “Where does she come up with this stuff?”
“From Emma,” both Pierce and Harrison say at the same time.
Emma gasps, looking highly offended before nodding and saying, “Yeah, okay, so she definitely has a lot of her auntie in her.”
We settle into a relaxed conversation and I feel utterly content, listening to the sound of the waves approaching and retreating against the nearby beach. I listen as Pierce talks about the book he’s releasing this year—another fantasy novel—and watch as Emma adds all the braggy details that Pierce is leaving out (like how there’s a bidding war happening between three networks already who want to adapt it onto screen). Libby comes out, looking sleepy after getting Clara to bed, and seats herself next to Harrison, who takes her hand and gives it a kiss.
I want what they’ve got. And I know this is what Arabella and I have when we’re able to be alone. But the truth is, these types of easy moments are going to be few and far between, aren’t they? And that’s a thought I wish I could stop from popping into my head.
Chapter 17
Uncooperative Royals and the Women Who Love Them (Sort of…)
Arabella
“Okay,so I just want to go over a few things before the camera crew gets here to film our trip to the airport,” I tell my family.
We’re standing in the Grande Hall as the staff rush around with our luggage and the twins run in big circles with their arms out wide like airplanes. “First, thank you all so much for agreeing to come with me. I’m honestly so touched that you could all take the time to go on a little adventure whilst helping Will and I in our quest to free him.”
Arthur snorts. “You make it sound like he’s a prisoner of war or something.”
I glare at him until he holds his hands up in surrender and says, “Got it. Angry bride.”
“I amnotan angry bride,” I grind out. “I’m a woman dealing with a delicate situation who’s doing what she must for love.”
