“Good,” I say. “What do you think?” I show him my ravioli, and he comes up next to me, placing his hand on my shoulder.
“Incredible. Just beautiful.”
I glance at Marit, who obnoxiously winks, causing me to have to keep in the snort that wants to fly out of me.
Okay, yeah, maybe he’s favoring me more than the other girls, but I’m not going to complain.
* * *
“This is beautiful,”I say as I stare up at the snowy sky.
At the very center of the palace on the fourth floor is a large glass dome. Clinton had it set up as a loft filled with pillows and blankets for the girls. The first night I arrived, they took me to the loft, and we laid about, talking and drinking wine of course. Now it seems to be our nightly ritual.
We drink.
Talk.
Have a good time while wearing our pajamas.
They truly are the siblings I’ve always wanted, and with every day that passes, being here, I’m starting to find joy again. I’m finding laughter, I’m finding that the heavy weight that’s been sitting on my chest is slowly loosening.
Isabella fills up my wineglass. “Our favorite time is when it snows up here. The snow never sticks to the dome, so we’re always rewarded with the view of falling snow without being caught up in the cold.”
I take a sip of my wine. “Still getting used to the cold and the snow. It’s beautiful, especially when you’re inside and warm.”
“And drinking wine,” Marit says while raising her glass.
The more time I’ve spent with Marit and Isabella, the more I’ve noticed just how different they are. Not just in their looks, despite being twins, but also their personalities. Isabella is more subdued. She can joke around and have a good time, but there’s a sense of properness in her, regality. And Marit, she’s looser, funnier, the jokester and instigator. But even with Marit’s frequent teasing and high jinks, it’s so obvious how much Isabella loves her sister. Isabella has said how lost she’d be without Marit, and I couldn’t help but think that’s how I felt with Keller.
“So.” Marit flips to her stomach and eyes me. “The other night, while we were making ravioli, you said you were ready to talk about Keller. So let’s talk.”
“Marit, don’t be too pushy.”
“I’m not,” Marit says. “She doesn’t have to talk about him if she doesn’t want to. I’m giving her the option, but the door is also open in case she wants to.” She turns her attention back to me. “So do you?”
I swirl my wine in my glass, feeling the effects of it. “You know, I think I do want to talk about him.”
“Oh yay.” Marit sits up and crosses her legs. “Lay it on us. Tell us everything.”
“Well, I’ll tell you this, if he really is out there, fishing like Henrik’s reports have said, if I ever run across him, I’m going to slap him across the face with a cod.”
The girls let out a roar of a laugh.
“A wet, cold one. Right into the old cheek. Because really, giving up being with me and being a prince to live on a boat with a bunch of smelly fishermen? Spending your daylights floating around in the ocean, your body odor so atrocious that you actually scare the cods away . . . that’s what he traded in for?” I shake my head. “He did me a favor because marrying an idiot was not on my list of things to do.”
Isabella chuckles. “Seriously, that’s what he’s doing?”
“Yes, a few people have said they’ve heard he’s out on the boats.”
“That does seem stupid,” Isabella says. “I mean, look at you . . . you’re telling me being on the boat is better than being by your side?”
“That’s what I’m saying.” I lean forward, holding my glass of wine out. “And I have my nipples and clit pierced.”
“What?” Marit asks, nearly falling off her pillow. “No, you don’t.”
I slowly lean against a pillow, nodding. “Yup. And he loved playing with them.”
“Oh my God, I’m so envious,” Marit says. “I’ve wanted my nipples pierced for so long.”
