“Darling.” Mamma doesn’t even try to deny anything being wrong, which only underscores how wrong something must be. A something that involves me. “I want to let you know Freja’s upset, and I don’t think she will delay announcing her decision much longer.”
“Mamma.” It’s my turn to frown. “She can’t. Not yet.”
“She’s not changing her mind. And her plans are in motion for her official move to America. It’s been a few months, Theo.”
I shake my head firmly. “It’s not enough time. I’m still getting over the shock and trying to pull things together. Like by being, say, respectable. Doesn’t that benefit all of us?”
“It does. But also, that should be the floor and not the ceiling.”
“Mamma. That hurt.”
She gives me a wry smile. “I know it’s an adjustment for you. But… please adjust more quickly. Remember, Freja’s coronation celebration is still officially scheduled for the end of August.”
“Also, remember how we haven’t had a formal coronation since 1849? Plus, she made her Proclamation when Papa died. I don’t understand why she would go to all the fuss of making plans for a splashy party and then bail for some guy.”
“Darling. She wanted to give the public something exciting to celebrate. Last year was not the right time.”
I sigh. “I’m sorry. What’s his name anyway?”
“I’ve told you before. Avery. Avery Erik Larsen.”
“Right.” Except I totally forgot. It did sound vaguely familiar. “Is he in some part a Dane, given his surname?”
“Yes.”
There’s some relief there. “Then—shouldn’t they come live their best lives in Denmark?”
She tilts her head and waits patiently with years of experience wrangling me. Then she clears her throat delicately. “You’re going to need to start making plans soon to move back to Copenhagen. To sell your home, settle your business, whatever you need to do.”
It’s like she’s thrown ice water in my face. Part of me knew this, in the abstract, was coming. It’s quite another to confront the inevitable. I stare at her.
There’s some hint of sadness in my mother’s eyes before she smooths over to full-on regal. “I’m sorry, Theo. But it’s time.”
Unfortunately, I’ve used all the oxygen in the room, and there’s nothing left in my lungs to voice words. Instead, I continue to stare at her, letting the weight of her words sink in. Finally, I manage to say something. “How soon?”
“Maybe a few more weeks? I’m not sure. You need to answer her calls. Avoiding her doesn’t mean she’s going to change her plans. Remember, this is stressful for her too.”
I groan. “Okay, okay.” Then I scowl. “She’s getting out of her queening, how can Freja possibly be stressed?”
She gives me a level look. “Because of expectations. She feels she’s letting everyone down. And she knows the impact this has on you.”
Some unhappy noise escapes me. Kind of like when someone steps on an old squeaky toy that is less squeak and more hiss. I lean back in the passenger seat in the car. Ethan’s emerged from the café, coffees in hand.
“Make a plan,” she advises. “Hire whatever services you need. I can help if needed. But the sooner you can be full-time in Copenhagen, the better.”
“Okay, fine.” I swallow hard, looking away. “Look, I’ve got to run. I’m just on a break between meetings.”
“I’m sorry, darling. I know this isn’t easy. We all realize this is a complete one-eighty pivot in your life.”
I just nod, defeated. “Talk soon.”
We hang up, and I sit staring at my phone.
When Ethan slides into the car a minute later, he hands over my coffee and frowns. “What’s wrong?”
“We’re going to need to talk about the business. And… about handing things over to you.” I glance over at him. “And thanks for this.” I lift the cup in acknowledgment. “I was just on a call with my mother.”
Ethan sighs and nods. After a drink of a coffee, he sets it down in the cup holder and starts the car. Before long, we’re on the way back to London.
