I turned to Oliver, who looked like he was actually contemplating it.Holy shit, he looks like he’s actually contemplating this.I rubbed my temples. This was exactly the kind of foolishness that happened when you mixed whiskey and desperate men.
“Oliver?” I beseeched. He was deep in thought and didn't even hear me. “Hey!”
He finally turned to me, giving me the look we had perfected over the years that said, “Open your mind’s door and get ready for some telepathy.” I could hear exactly what he was saying: He really thought this was a good idea.
I shook my head no, only for him to answer with a half smile. It was the first semblance of a smile I’d seen on his face since that morning.
“I like the idea. But I think I would make some changes to it. Vince, grab a pen and some paper off my desk over there and write this down,” Oliver said.
“On it!”
“Hear me out,” Oliver started. “It shouldn’t be just anyone, you know? The media has already been after Xavier and the abdication is just going to set off more of a shitstorm; we really don’t need random people hanging around right now. We could ask the Council for some suggestions, or perhaps my parents would know a few women who they think may be a good fit?”
“You know that they will just suggest the daughters of those in the inner circle. The noble families. Do you even like any of them?” I reminded. Oliver had been surrounded by the daughters of the nobility since birth, but none of them were fit to be our future queen. Sure, there were some perfectly nice ones, but as Oliver had said before, most of them seemed more interested in status than in who Oliver truly was.
I continued. “What if you tried to find someone who isn’t necessarily already ‘in’? Include women who have a pulse on the everyday Wexstonian and what they need. Just think about the team you would make with a woman like that by your side. It would be the best of both worlds: A wife who knows the people, and you, who knows the political inner workings of the Council.”
Oliver rubbed his jaw, his eyes narrowing as he mused. “You’reright. That’s actually really good. People might be kinder to the family and receive this idea a little better if they know there are ‘normal’ people in the running, too.” He paused, continuing to map out his thoughts. “But I’m not going to give out roses or have a big ceremony where I send someone home each week. That’s awful, and I can’t imagine the press being even remotely agreeable to that notion. No, the women need to know that they can leave at any time, but I will dedicate the holiday season to courting each of them.”
Somehow, it wasn’t a completely shit idea. I still wasn’t fully on board, but I had to admit that a couple of months was usually enough to know if you wanted to move forward with dating someone. I just didn’t know if it would be enough time for Oliver to know if he wanted tomarrysomeone.
“Brilliant,” Vince said as he scribbled down his notes. I knew we’d be lucky if we could even read what he’d written. His handwriting was awful on a good day, but throw in three glasses of whiskey and counting…
I set the empty glass in the sink. It was funny how we didn’t want any “random” women that we didn’t know in this makeshift contest and yet: There was Birdie. A random girl from New York City, who I bumped into at a coffee shop, only to discover that she worked at the bar the barista had suggested we go to? It was all too weird.
I was never one to believe in coincidences, nor did I really believe in fate or destiny. I’d seen how women “just so happened” to stumble into Oliver at every given opportunity, trying to set up their perfect fairytale scenario with him. Renata was a prime example.
I couldn’t stand that woman. She was awful, and I didn’tknow why Oliver even let her be there. She liked to think that we didn’t see through her act, but we’d known and heard what she had told everyone since we were in year eight: that she and the Crown Prince would get married, since it was her “birthright” by being a Raines.
The royal family and the Raines family had a long-standing history. Way back in the day, the Raines men served as royal advisers. Every other generation or so, they would arrange a marriage between their children and one of the royals, interweaving the families throughout the years as they accumulated more wealth and land in the process.
In recent decades the Raineses had fallen out of favor as advisers to the crown, though Lord Anthony Raines—Renata’s father—still enjoyed his titled status and monthly poker nights with his fellow lords. Rumor had it that he had tied up a chunk of their money in some risky investments and was eager to have Renata become queen, in hopes that they could return to the old days of vast prosperity and power.
But Birdie. Maybe she was what Oliver needed. She was carefree and kind and confident and unbelievably sexy. I still hadn’t stopped thinking about the sounds she made when I kissed her neck in the closet.
But how could she just drop everything in her life to come here? Especially during the holidays. What type of family would be okay with their daughter missing the holidays for a man she barely knew? I couldn’t shake the questions in my mind. Was it because there was something to be worried about, or was it the mystery of not knowing much about her?
The palace’s head of security, Sheffield, had run a background check on each suitor before their arrival. I wondered if I should reach out to him to read through Birdie’s file. Surely that would answer some of my questions, right?
I had to let this go. My skeptical nature was getting thebest of me, but it was hard to quiet the nudge in the pit of my stomach to find out more about her.
After pulling the comforter back and letting Eugene hop up onto the bed and burrow into his preferred place at the foot, I set my alarm, settling under the covers and thinking about the next day’s events. We’d be with the ladies during a press conference and then again as they visited the artisan workshops in the afternoon.
The workshops were one of my favorite places in the city. When I was a teenager, I would spend hours there in silence with the owner, chopping wood to be used for whatever project was up next. It was a safe place to work through my torrent of adolescent emotions.
There was a knock on my door. I wasn’t expecting anyone that late at night. I checked the security camera app on my phone and was shocked to see Birdie. Her cobalt-blue dress shone in the light of my front porch.
I unlocked the door and opened it. As the cold air hit me, I noticed she didn’t have a coat on. Just that insanely beautiful dress.
“Hey. Come in,” I said, opening my door.
“I’m sorry to show up unannounced.” She stepped inside and stood in the small foyer that opened up into my open-plan living room. I had done all of the renovations on the cottage myself. It had been a form of therapy for me, making this place my own, redoing everything from scratch. It was like making my own little mark on this palace.
“How did you know where I lived?”
“Vince.” She smiled.
My brows knit together in a mix of confusion and concern. “Is everything okay?”
