Page 40 of Prince of Wrath

“Ella,” Nate greets her with open arms, while still keeping his distance. “Thank you so much for coming. I can’t tell you how excited Mads was to meet you.” Ella nods with a shy smile.

“Thank you for the invitation.” A rush of breathless, adorable, and funny little steps comes toward us. Mads’s tiara is about to fall, and she repositions it with both hands, then looks up with big eyes that could definitely get her everything she wants from anyone. She hands a similar tiara to Ella, eyes full of hope.

When Ella accepts it with a small, silent laugh and places it on her head, Mads signs, “Princesses. We’re princesses.”

Ella answers, “Thank you so much, Maddie. I love it.” We all watch as the six-year-old Ashford blushes and hides behind Nate’s legs. He ruffles her hair, and she protests immediately, pointing at her tiara.

“Uncle Tristan is gonna go change, and then we’ll join Grandma in the garden,” Nate tells her. I wonder what spin my mother put on the princess theme. From a real historical costume to a take on a ghostly Halloween dead princess, I have yet to be surprised, since my mother never wastes an occasion to stand out. Which is not so bad, given how badly Maddie wanted all of us to respect the theme. We follow Nate into the kitchen as Maddie runs to the garden, and I murmur in Ella’s ear, “You okay?” She nods, and it seems genuine, so I try not to drown it in second guesses.

“I hope you love cake, Ella,” Nate calls out loudly. “Maddie made this one with me this morning, and I have to say, I’ve outdone myself.”

“You did this?” I ask, pointing, brows up.

“Yeah,” Nate shrugs. “With a YouTube video, and then Mads helped me with the glittery stuff, and yeah. I mean, it stands, so pretty good, right?”

“Yeah,” I let out in a breath. He never ceases to surprise me. The two-tiered cake with pink frosting and glittery pearls, along with a not-so-good-looking but still acceptable red firefighter truck made out of some kind of edible paste, is not so bad at all. I sure hope he finds a wife someday, because that is the sort of thing you want to share with a partner. I mean, I think. Making family stuff together. I know I would. Even if I am, most of the time, a shark in a suit, I would not mind trying to make things for my family, as bad as they might be. At least they would know I tried.

“Mads is lucky to have you,” I tell him. A flash of sadness crosses his features before his outgoing nature covers it again.

“So, Ella, I’m stoked to meet you. You’ve been, well, shaking things up for Tristan. It was about time. That man is so stiff I was losing hope.”

“Shut up,” I warn him, without real heat.

“No, really. Look at him. He seems interested in human things now. You know, outside contracts and mergers and… So whatever you’re doing, don’t stop.” He grins. “How are you now that you’ve had a bit of time to recover?”

Ella signs back, “Better. Much better. I...” She pauses. “I’m sorry. I’m not really good at socializing, but I’m really happy to be here.”

“Ah.” He waves it off, putting pink lemonade on a tray with glasses and motioning with his chin for us to follow him. “Take your time. We’re not better at it either.” He laughs out loud at his own joke, then tsks at me. “Go change. We’re all respecting the theme.” He gives me a serious look, and I roll my eyes.

“Where is it?”

“Upstairs. And don’t touch anything else, okay? I don’t want your weird color-coded organization in my house.” I keep a curse on my lips since we are near Maddie, and drop a kiss on Ella’s temple.

“Be right back. Is it okay for you to stay here without me while I change?” I could ask her to join me, but then I would have to take a cold shower or listen to heavy metal. Get a hold of yourself. This is a family lunch, slash party, slash birthday, and absolutely not the time to test new waters with the woman of my dreams.

“I’m okay,” she mouths, and I freeze for a second, like a damn teenager who wants his crush so badly that he is making a fool of himself.

Right on time, Maddie runs to us and signs to Ella, “Do you know Grandma? She really likes spicy water.”

“Spicy water?” Ella frowns, glancing at me.

I mouth the word, “Champagne,” and she lets out a sudden, free laugh. Her shoulders go up and down, her palm rising to hide her mouth, and no. Hell no. Let me watch you laugh, you marvelous woman. I try and fail to act normal, noticing from the corner of my eye that Nate has come closer until he fake-punches my shoulder, startling me.

“Go change. You’re drooling,” he mocks, chortling, and I glare at him in response. Ella, tiara on her head, looks back over her shoulder as a tiny half-firefighter, half-princess leads her toward the garden. Step by step, pieces are falling into place, the gap between us shrinking by the minute, my sanity and reason surrendering to her, kneeling at her feet, wanting even the crumbs of her stolen glances and smiles. Her hips sway gently, and I blink, peeling myself away to change.

Nate’s right.

I am drooling.

Ella

Meeting Tristan’s family is one thing. Doing so without bursting into flames at the sight of him in a navy blue firefighter jumpsuit, fitted enough to resemble a pilot’s uniform, is quite another. I have avoided looking at him ever since he came back and joined us in the garden. So far, I have stayed glued to the rosebushes, admiring their white and pale pink brushstrokes, their shade so unique it seems custom-made. Tristan’s mother sips a blue drink with a tiny umbrella, wearing sunglasses I once saw on a celebrity in a magazine Valeria left in her room. Huge and square and making it impossible to know what she could possibly think.

“Nate, darling,” she calls. I try to busy myself now that Maddie has left me for a much more interesting ball she is playing with on the lawn. Tristan had a call and is now pacing like a prisoner in a cage in the kitchen, glancing back and forth between me, Nate, and Maddie while holding his forehead like he is dealing with, yet again, something he wishes he could have spared himself.

From afar, I sign to him, “Everything okay?”

With a dramatic eye roll, he signs back, “Work,” followed by a much more surprising and comforting I love you, closing two fingers into his palm. Which, given the knowledge of ASL among his family members, is quite a bold move. Movement comes near me, and I brace for it. Mother figures have not been high on my list of beloved family members lately. And from her beautiful, expensive, wide caftan with a thick diamond necklace, which I am sure is her take on the theme, it is hard not to think of Mara and her impeccable facade.