My father looks surprised. “You didn’t tell my mother that, I hope? She would have a stroke.”
“Oh, quit,” my mother answers, rolling her eyes. “She’ll be just fine. Your mother gets so hysterical over everything.”
I look at my siblings to gauge their reactions to that. Annika wrinkles her nose, Finn looks at his glass of red wine, and Lars looks somber. No help there, I guess.
Not that I really expected it.
“I did tell her,” I reply. “In fact…” I grip Margot’s hand. “I was hoping that you could give me guidance about announcing the relationship to the cabinet and the parliament.”
Margot squeezes my hand. I glance at her and she gives me a wide-eyed look that sayswe didn’t talk about that!
I wink at her. “When the time is right, I mean.”
Annika interjects. “Isn’t that like… a step away from announcing that you’re engaged?”
Between us, Margot goes pale and shrinks down in her seat an inch. My father sizes us up, then gives his head a shake. “Your sister is right. Telling parliament is quite serious.”
My mother actually tears up. “I’m so happy for both of you! Now Margot… I learned you are from New York City. Is that correct?”
Clearing her throat, Margot nods. “Yes, ma’am. Born and raised.”
“That’s fascinating.” My mother looks at my father. “Isn’t it?”
“Very,” he says. “Tell me though, aren’t you a journalist?”
Margot goes red as a beet. “Yes, sir.”
He waves his hand. “Göran, please. And you realize that being my son’s girlfriend will probably mean you won’t get the best stories assigned to you any longer, correct?”
Margot looks at me, wetting her lower lip with her tongue. “Yes sir… I mean… yes, Göran.”
I sit forward, eager to defend her. “Margot isn’t dating me for access to the royal family.”
“Oh! Göran is not suggesting that!” my mother says, eying my father. “Is he?”
My father, ever the wise man, knows when he should stop talking. So he just smiles. “No, of course not.”
I sit back and let Margot take over the answering, making eye contact with my father once more. His lips tip upward and he gives me a nearly imperceptible head tilt.
I take that to mean that he approves of Margot. Then again, how could anyone not be pro-Margot when my mother is so obviously over the moon about her?
We get through dinner just fine. Between Annika andmy mother peppering her with questions, Margot talks almost the entire time. She is bashful at first but in the end, I feel like she charmed the hell out of my parents.
Now there is just the rest of the fucking world to go, I guess.
When it’s time to go, my mother hugs both me and Margot so hard that it’s almost painful.
I shake hands with my father, who is still seated at the table. “Talk soon?”
His lips tip upward. “Yes.”
There’s something hanging between us, a moment of hesitation on my part. Should I bring up what my grandmother told me? “I’m glad you are doing well.”
He frowns but says nothing. He just nods his head.
Then I squire a talked-out Margot down to the waiting limo, where she crawls in the back seat and closes her eyes.
“Oh my god,” she moans as I climb in beside her. “I’m so tired! How do you do that all day, every day and manage not to go insane?”
