Unexpectedly Royal

by Jennifer Domenico

  My good fortune. I keep the thought to myself. “Well, here we are.” I point to the high rise in front of me. “Thanks for the walk.”

  “You’re welcome.” He lingers for a moment, and I wonder why. “Good night, Delaney.”

  “Night, Lathan.” He starts to leave, but I stop him. “There’s a T station one block that way,” I say pointing down the street. “It’s closer.”

  “Thank you.”

  I watch him walk away, turning to look back at me more than once. I sigh as I walk inside my building. He’s cute and charming, but also a bit of a hot head. I shouldn’t like him, but that doesn’t mean I don’t. I can’t wait to tell Fallyn about it tomorrow.

  For now, sleep.

  The next day, I dial Fallyn as I walk down the street to get to my office.

  “Morning,” she answers.

  “You won’t believe this.”

  “What?”

  “Last night at the cooking class, I was paired up with this guy that’s super cute and is from Europe.”

  “You don’t say?”

  “His name is Lathan and he’s really hot. Single too.”

  “Bonus. You’ll learn to cook and get a guy.”

  “Maybe. He’s kind of a pill though. At one point he got mad at me and left the class.”

  “Over what?”

  “I told him how to hold his knife to chop onions, he didn’t listen, cut himself, and then got all pissy about it.”

  “Interesting.”

  “Yeah, but he came back a few minutes later and apologized. The night ended well. He even walked me home.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah.” I push open the door to my office and pull off my coat. “He said he was a gentleman.”

  “Okay, that’s cool. What’s he look like?”

  “He’s tallish, I’d say maybe 6’1 or so. He has light brown hair, almost blond, and hazel eyes.”

  “Facial hair or not?”

  “Yeah, a little scruff on his cheeks. Did I mention he has an accent?”

  “Ooh, accents are fucking hot.”

  “Hit your clicker.”

  “Dammit. Continue.”

  “He speaks formally, almost like someone from England, but he said he’s from some small country in Europe.”

  “Is he skinny or fit?”

  “Hmm.” I think back to last night. “He’s nice. Looks like he might have some muscles, but nothing over the top.”

  “Perfect.”

  “Yeah. It’s hard to say though. He was wearing a sweater.”

  “Maybe you’ll get to see more.”

  I laugh imagining Fallyn’s eyebrows raised at me as she says that. “We’ll see. He asked if my boyfriend would mind if he walked me home.”

  “Oh my god, are you serious?”

  “Yep.”

  “Del, he’s totally hot for you.”

  “He might be. I’ll see how it goes.” I sit back in my chair. “Can I be honest?”

  “You already know the answer to that.”

  “I liked him instantly. His face, his charm, all of it was captivating.”

  “Captivating. Wow, strong word.”

  “Yeah, but that’s what it felt like.”

  “But?”

  “His little hissy fit really threw me off. Like he’s got a thing about women telling him what to do.”

  “Hmm, yeah, that’s not cool.”

  “No. You know how I am about that kind of stuff.”

  “That should be good times. You don’t like a man bossing you around, and he doesn’t like a woman doing the same to him. Wait until he finds out how pushy you are.”

  “Pushy? Excuse me? Just because I know how to get what I want, doesn’t mean I’m pushy.”

  “We’ll call it assertive, how’s that?”

  I grin shaking my head. “I’m not ashamed of that.”

  “You shouldn’t be. I’m just saying, it’ll be interesting to watch.”

  “For both of us.”

  She laughs. “So he’s your cooking partner for the next three weeks, huh?”

  “Yep.”

  “Plenty of opportunity then to get to know him.”

  “Yeah, we’ll see how it goes. Want to have dinner tonight?”

  “You betcha. We’ll do it weekly for after-class updates.”

  “Sounds good.” Chuckling, I say goodbye and start my work day.

  I never thought I’d be so excited about anything involving cooking, but I literally can’t wait for the next class. I hope the week flies by.

  I haven’t stopped thinking of the beautiful blonde woman I met at class. I want to get closer, know more about her. Meeting Delaney has got me thinking about all sorts of things. What if we end up dating and I want to bring her here? Sitting on my couch, I look around my barren apartment. I’ve hardly decorated it, and it looks like no one lives here. Certainly, someone as lovely as Delaney would think poorly of the place.

  Picking up my Mac from the coffee table, I do a quick search for ideas on decorating. I’m bombarded with a thousand hits, quickly becoming overwhelmed. Rubbing my forehead, I put down the computer and pick up the phone instead, dialing Ophelia. I can always count on her for guidance.

  When she answers, she practically squeals in my ear. “Dear, Lathan! I’m so pleased to hear from you. How are you?”

  “Hello, sweet cousin. I am well. You?”

  “Oh, fine. Just the usual drudgery. How is America treating you?”

  “Fairly. I do need a bit of womanly advice though.”

  “I’m all ears.”

  “My apartment is rather dreary, and I’m suddenly inspired to improve my existence here.”

  “Alright.”

  “I don’t know where to begin. I’ve never done these things.”

  “And I have?”

  Laughing softly I reply, “No, I don’t suppose you have.”

  “What do you have now?”

  “The basics. A couch, a table, a bed.”

  “Hmm, well, that sounds like a proper hovel.”

  I laugh. “Compared to home, yes, but it’s comfortable.”

  “Perhaps you could locate a designer of some sort. Someone you can delegate this task to. If I were in your situation, I believe that is what I would do.”

  “Ah, brilliant idea. I’ll try that.”

  “Good. Now, tell me, what inspired your sudden motivation?”

  “Nothing,” I lie. “Just a bit bored, that’s all.”

  “If you’re bored, then why don’t you come home?”

  “It’s not that simple and you know this.”

  “It is simple. You can’t stay away forever.”

  “Nor do I want to, but the wound is still fresh. My return at this point would equate to ripping the stitches out and starting the healing process again.”

  “So dramatic, you are. No one cares.”

  “My father cares and that is the whole of the country in my eyes.”

  “True,” she agrees softly. “I just miss you so. Terribly, in fact.”

  “I miss you too, Ophelia. I’ll be back though. As soon as I feel the time is right. He still won’t take my calls, cousin. It’s been two years, and he still won’t talk to me. What good would coming home do except make the pain even more pronounced?”

  “I understand.”

  “Have you any word on Arlan?”

  “No, I haven’t seen him. Last I heard from your mother, he was traveling in Monaco.”

  “Monaco, huh?” I sigh, gazing out my ice covered window. “Why is it Arlan can do whatever he likes, yet I make one mistake and I’m branded forever?”

  “You know why.”

  “Yes, I suppose I do.”

  “Have you tried to contact him?”

  “No. It never goes well. He resents me so.”

  “I hope someday he finds a way to look past it. It’s not either of your fault.”

  “No, but that doesn’t really change anything.”

  “But, La
than…” she pauses, and I know what’s next. The plea. “Certainly you’d have a better chance of improving your family relations if you came home. What good can you do while you’re in America?”

  “I’m doing a lot of good here, for myself. It’s nice to live my life as I please without constantly being watched and judged. It’s amazing actually. I like it.”

  “More than you like us?”

  “Ah, now, don’t say it like that, Ophelia. You know that isn’t the case. When the time is right, when the dust has settled, I’ll be home.”

  “I’ll be waiting impatiently at best.”

  “I know. How is baby Grace?”

  “She’s lovely. Starting to crawl and she says mama.”

  I smile, but it’s melancholy, saddened by what I’m missing out on. “She’s growing so fast.”

  “Yes. She wants to meet you.”

  I laugh softly. “She’s a baby. She doesn’t know me.”

  “Okay, I want her to meet you.”

  “I know. And Harris?”

  “Also well. He’s a great father.”

  “And husband?”

  “Oh yes, I couldn’t want for more.”

  “Good. As long as you’re happy.”

  “I am. I hope you are too.”

  “I truly am, cousin. I promise you, America is a wonderful place. The city where I live is big and bustling, and there’s always something happening. It’s the complete opposite of home. There are people of every color and nationality here. It’s quite amazing.”

  “It does sound like it.”

  “Well, I’ll get back to my day now and leave you to yours. Thanks for the designer suggestion. I’ll work on that. Tell everyone hello and kiss the baby for me.”

  “Of course.”

  “We’ll talk soon.”

  “Goodbye.”

  After hanging up, I lean back on the couch, filled with sudden homesickness. I do love America and all its freedoms, but I long to see the faces of the people I love. One stupid mistake caused this separation.

  “What have you done?”

  Gemma flashes a devious smile, waving her phone at me. “What should be done. I can’t be strung along forever, Lathan. It’s not fair.”

  “I can’t believe you would do this to me.”

  “You know what you have to do to stop it.”

  “Never, Gemma. Never.”

  Her smile dissipates. “Well then I hope you’re prepared for the fallout.”

  I wasn’t, to say the least. I expected other’s reactions, but could never imagine how my parents, particularly my father, would react. An embarrassment. Immature. Unruly. Unfit. His words ring through my mind on a daily basis. I was his pride and joy, and then I wasn’t.

  Looking at my phone, I stare at it for a moment, pining to hear my mother’s voice. At least she talks to me. I dial her private line and wait. After several rings she answers.

  “Lathan?”

  “Yes, hello, Mother.” My heart tugs at the sound of her voice.

  “Son, how are you?”

  “Very well. I’m doing fine here.

  “That makes me happy.”

  “How are you?”

  “The same, but missing my son.”

  “I miss you too. Very much.”

  “Tell me what you’ve been doing.”

  I run my fingers through my hair, hoping to lighten the mood. It’s hard to hear the sadness that tinges her voice when we speak.

  “Well, you might get a good laugh, but I’m taking a cookery class.”

  “No!” She laughs. “How is that going?”

  “I’ve only had one class so far, and it was a disaster. I have a cooking partner and together we ruined the dish. It was quite comical.”

  “What did you make?”

  “Spaghetti with a tomato and basil sauce, but I overcooked the pasta, managed to cut my finger, and acted like a proper jerk when I didn’t get my way.”

  “Jerk? What is that word? Some sort of American slang?”

  “Ah, yes, sorry, Mother. I was quite rude.”

  “Ah, how did your partner react?”

  I think back to Delaney’s pretty face, twisted in a frown. “I was a disappointment to say the least, but I think I made up for it later with a nice apology.”

  “I’m sure he appreciated it.”

  “She.”

  “Oh. Is she nice?” my mother asks.

  “Yes, as far as I can tell. Like many women here, she’s opinionated and forward, but she seems nicer than most.”

  Mother chuckles softly. “Quite a change from home, yes?”

  “Very much so.”

  “Will you see her again?”

  “Yes, the class is four weeks, and she’ll be my partner the entire time, assuming I haven’t scared her off.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Delaney.”

  “That’s an unusual name for a woman.”

  “Americans do that. They swing from the very traditional to the very unusual. I’ve yet to meet anyone with my name, or anyone I know for that matter.”

  “Interesting. What is her background?”

  “I don’t know a thing about her, Mother, except that she’s from Boston and her name. Oh, and she can’t cook any better than I.”

  “Is she pretty?”

  I realize suddenly she’s gauging my romantic interest in Delaney. “And if she is?”

  “Well, if she is, then perhaps you’ll go out with her.”

  Smiling, I shake my head softly. “Perhaps. She’s very pretty.”

  “Did you ask her?”

  “No. After such a poor first showing, I thought I should back off and let her see that I’m not so bad.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Nothing major, Mother. I promise.”

  “But you’re interested in her?”

  “Yes,” I admit.

  “That’s lovely, dear.”

  “I suppose so. I might as well enjoy the time I’m here.”

  “Yes, but you should also be considering the future.”

  “I know, Mother. That’s why I don’t want to get too attached to anyone here.”

  “Why not?”

  “Oh, Mother, I do love your false naïveté. You know very well why.”

  “I’m not being naïve. I just want you to find love.”

  “As if I don’t have enough problems back home. Showing up with an American girlfriend? That would go over quite well.”

  “Lathan, if you fell in love with an American girl, then we’ll just figure that out.”

  “I wish I believed my father would agree with you.”

  She sighs. “Yes, that could be more challenging.”

  “It would be just one more expectation where I failed to deliver.”

  “Lathan…”

  “Does he miss me, Mother? Does he ever speak of me?” She’s silent, I’m sure trying to think of a way to soften the negative response. Sighing, I continue. “That’s my answer.”

  “I’m sorry, dear. I try to reason with him. He’s just so stubborn.”

  “I know. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree.”

  “No,” she laughs softly. “It didn’t.”

  I glance out the window for a moment. “Well, regardless, I miss him. I miss you. I miss everyone and everything.”

  “Then come home. We’ll figure it out, son. Maybe once he sees you again—”

  “And if he’s not ready? If he tells me to leave his sight again? Then what? I’d rather be visible here than ignored there.”

  “I understand.”

  “I hope you do. I promise you, as soon as he says he wants to see me, I’ll be there, but not a moment sooner.”

  “I await the day.”

  “As do I. I’ll call next week.”

  “I love you, son.”

  “I know, Mother. I love you too.”

  Hanging up, I stand to make myself a cup of coffee. As I lean on the kitchen counter, waiting for the p
ot to brew, I stare out the window, imagining my home, my mother’s smiling face, Ophelia’s childlike giggles, Tristan’s brotherly hugs, and my father. As angry as he is with me, I’ve never once stopped wishing I could see him again.

  As I reapply my lipstick, gazing into the mirror, I feel the excitement building inside me, knowing that soon I’ll see Lathan again. After checking my appearance once more, fluffing my hair, and wrapping my scarf around my neck, I put on my coat and gloves. Time to head over to the cooking studio.

  As I leave my workplace and walk down the sidewalk, my thoughts wander to what we’ll make tonight, and if he’ll be salty if I tell him what to do again. Hopefully, we won’t have any more of that nonsense after last week. When I reach my destination, I walk inside, up the flight of stairs, and glance in the room before stepping inside. He’s not here yet. Sighing, I start to unbutton my coat when I hear the door again. As I twist around, Lathan is right in front of me with a huge grin on his face.

  “For you,” he says, holding a small foil wrapped square.

  “What is it?”

  “Chocolate.” He smiles even bigger. “It’s made where I come from. I thought you might enjoy a taste of something exotic.”

  I smile and take the small chocolate. “Thank you. That’s very thoughtful.”

  “You’re welcome.” He unbuttons his coat and removes it then tucks it under the counter. “Peace offering.”

  I laugh softly. “We’re good, Lathan.”

  “I’m glad.”

  I finish removing my coat and put it away. As others file into the room, I unwrap the chocolate and pop it in my mouth. Lathan watches me, clearly waiting for my reaction. As the chocolate melts on my tongue, a smile spreads across my lips.

  “It’s wonderful.”

  Lathan smiles. “You like it?”

  “Absolutely. It’s amazing. It’s so creamy. Do they sell this in the states?”

  “No, we don’t export it at all.”

  “You should. You could rule the world with this stuff.”

  He chuckles. “A fine compliment. I’m pleased you enjoyed it.”

  “Thanks again. It was divine.”

  The door opens and Chef Robert comes in with the same stern expression he had last week. He informs us we’re making a soup tonight.

  We listen intently to the instructions. More onion and garlic chopping. Lathan grins at me when the topic comes up.