That made Darius chuckle. “Machinations?”
Esther shrugged. “It seemed like a good word to use.”
Another thought occurred to him, and he sobered. “Is next month going to be hard for you?”
“Next month?” She looked puzzled.
“Well, I don’t know exactly when the baby would have been due.”
Realization crossed her face. “Not until early November, most likely. There was no real reason for the doctor to tell me when the due date was given that the baby had already stopped developing when I saw him.” She stared at her hands. “But best guess, based on our time in Sargasso, would be the second week or so of November.”
He needed to remember that. Find a way to keep her mind off of what they’d lost.
Esther had done the research.
And now she knew how to boil water.
Maybe.
She’d never actually tried.
But the time had come to try this for real.
She found a big pot and filled it two-thirds of the way with water, set it on the stove, and turned the burner to high.
Many of the recipes she’d found had given explicit instructions on how to make your own spaghetti sauce, but Esther knew that was far too much for her first attempt at dinner. She’d grabbed a jar of something that sounded good. Basil and garlic were good, right?
The meatballs were frozen. She read the instructions on the bag again.
In a medium saucepan, she dumped all of the meatballs. It seemed like a lot. Using a fork to move them around, she counted fifteen. Maybe not so many? She had no idea how many Darius would eat.
Weren’t leftovers a thing?
Maybe they could eat any that were left later in the week.
She took the jar of sauce and tried to twist the lid, but it didn’t want to come open. No matter how hard she tried, it wouldn’t move.
“Need some help?”
Esther turned to see Darius leaning against the counter with a smirk on his face. She held the jar out. “If you get it, it’s only because I loosened it for you.”
He took it from her. “Of course. But what are you doing?”
“Attempting to make dinner.”
“I was going to order pizza.”
“I know, but I wanted to try this, on my own, before Louis and his sister get here.” And pray she didn’t burn it. “I also have a loaf of bread that I’m going to try to turn into garlic bread.”
The jar opened with a pop. Darius handed it back.
Esther poured the entire contents of the jar over the top of the meatballs. She turned it on high as well. That would heat it up faster.
“I feel like that might be a bad idea.” Darius stood in front of the stove with his arms crossed over his chest. “I’m not really sure why though.”
With a shrug, Esther turned to the island counter top and opened the bag of bread. “At least I know not to put this in the oven in the bag. That’s a start.”
She dug around in another cabinet and pulled out a flat rectangular pan. The bread was already cut in half, so she opened it, grateful she’d found one already buttered and seasoned. The sticker on the bag told her what to set the oven at, and she asked Darius to turn it on.
“I don’t think I’ve ever turned on an oven. I have one in my apartment, but I’ve never used it.”
“It can’t be that hard.” She stood next to him and studied the buttons. Bake. Broil. Start. Cancel. Up and down arrows. This wasn’t baking, but wasn’t that the best option of the ones she was given? She pressed it. The display started blinking 200. Degrees? She pressed the up button until it reached the number she wanted, but it kept blinking.
Now what?
Start did nothing. She hit some more buttons. This time there were noises and more lights and less blinking.
“See? Nothing to it.”
Something popped and hit her on the arm causing her to pull back.
“Ah!” She jumped away as the spaghetti sauce popped and bubbled.
“I knew that was a bad idea,” Darius muttered. He used the handle to move the pan off the burner and it immediately calmed down a little. “Is there a lid for this thing?”
Good idea. Hadn’t some of the videos she’d watched used lids? “Check the drawer under the stove.” She got a cloth and wiped the splattered sauce off the stove top.
Darius set a lid on the pan and moved it back to the burner when she finished. He turned the temperature down. “I don’t think high is a great plan.”
She didn’t admit out loud that he was right, but he had been. What was next?
Waiting for the water to boil.
Esther checked the instructions on her phone. Break the spaghetti in half or thirds over the pot. Small handfuls. Add a dash of salt then a little bit of vegetable oil to make sure it didn’t boil over and to keep the noodles from sticking together later.
She double checked the times on the bag of noodles and the packaging for the bread. If she put the bread in as soon as the noodles were in, they should finish about the same time.
“I’m going to go get some homework done. Then I won’t have to do it this weekend.”
He’d been spending more time at home the last week. At least now she knew he’d usually gone to the library and not to visit some girl.
The water started to bubble. Carefully, she held the noodles over the pot and, staying as far away as she could, snapped them. One handful went in the pot. The other was broken in half again. She repeated the process until the bag was empty. Relief flooded her. She’d done that part. How much was a dash of salt? Esther went with a couple of shakes then added a couple more for good measure. After pouring a little bit of oil in, she used a spoon to stir it all.
The bread. She stuck the pan in the oven and breathed a sigh of relief. It was all in.
She leaned against the counter and opened Instagram. Scrolling through the pictures made her smile. One of them sent her to Pinterest. There she scrolled through a board of the best dressed royals of the summer.
A twinge hit her every time she saw a baby bump. On her sister. On Queen Christiana. The Duchess of Cambridge, though she wasn’t showing yet. Princess Sofia of Sweden. Princess Madeline of Sweden wasn’t showing yet either. Esther’s brother still hadn’t made the announcement yet, but when a picture of him and Anabelle appeared in the list, Esther knew she was pregnant at the time.
The screen blurred as tears blocked her vision.
At least they’d never made the announcement. No one would know she’d lost a child.
“Esther!”
She turned to see an annoyed Darius waving a towel in front of her. “Sorry.”
“I was calling your name. Is something burning?”
Esther let her phone drop to the counter as she gasped when the smell hit her. “What is it?”
The noodles were still boiling away, though there wasn’t much water left. The bread? She yanked open the oven. Black.
“I got it.” Darius used an oven mitt to pull the pan out. He set it on another one on the counter then lifted the lid of the pot with the meatballs.
She could smell it there, too.
The tears spilled over.
The easiest dinner on the planet, and she’d managed to ruin it.
10
Twisting the knobs, Darius turned off both of the burners then gathered his wife in his arms as she cried.
“It’s all right, love,” he whispered.
“No, it’s not.” The words were muffled by his chest.
“I know.”
The smell was almost too much. Still holding her close, he moved into the living room. He took a seat on the sofa, pulling her down next to him.
When her tears seemed spent, he broached the subject. “What happened?”
“I got sidetracked. I guess I didn’t set a timer.”
“What sidetracked you?”
She sniffled. “A Pinterest board with the best dressed royals for this summer.”
He didn’t understand women. “And you weren’t on it because no one saw you anywhere?”
“No.” Esther snuggled closer to him. “It was the baby bumps. There are so many of them this year.”
“And there should be one more.”
She nodded against him. “And then I ruined dinner.”
“I think it was what they call a successful failure.” Darius kissed her head.
“What’s that?”
“There was one small thing that went wrong and ruined everything. It wasn’t some fatal flaw. It was a lack of a timer. Now you know. When you try again, you won’t forget. This time didn’t work, but it’s not as bad as you think.”
“It’s still not edible.”
“Well, no. But that’s what restaurants are for.” An idea occurred to him. “Why don’t we go out? Instead of pizza, why don’t we get dressed up and go someplace nice?” Jonathan had mentioned one of the nicest restaurants in the area. Darius would see if he could help them get reservations. “I’ll put on a suit. You can put on a nice dress. Probably not as nice as some of the ones you were looking at, but nicer than what you usually wear, and we’ll go out for dinner.”
Esther seemed to be thinking. “Okay. I can do that.”
“Go upstairs and start getting ready. I’ll do something with this down here.” And see if he could get those reservations.
Esther headed for their room. Darius texted Jonathan. Jonathan texted back a few minutes later that it was all set.
Darius went into the kitchen and poured the noodles into the sink and rinsed them into the drain. He dumped the sauce and meatballs on top of the noodles. The bottom of the pan and one side of most of the meatballs were black.
Water started to build up in the sink. Wasn’t there a way to fix that? He flipped a switch on the wall. It turned on a light. He flipped the one next to it. A whirring, grinding sound filled the air, and the water in the sink lowered. Darius rinsed all of it into the drain. The bread went into the trash.
King Edward would be proud of them. Of Esther for almost succeeding and Darius for cleaning up, though he knew it wasn’t quite done.
Back in their room, an envelope on the dresser caught his eye. He grinned when he saw the contents. His driver’s license. He could drive his wife to dinner and have security stay in the other vehicle.
The water running told him Esther was taking a quick shower. He found a suit in the closet and dressed in their room so she could have the bathroom and closet to herself. As he tied the knot in his necktie, she emerged from the bathroom.
He let out a low whistle. “You look amazing.”
She half-glared at him. “I’m not even ready. I need to do my makeup. I don’t know what shoes I’m going to wear.”
“I still think you look fabulous.”
“Thanks.”
With his tie in place, Darius sat on one of the chairs and watched her dig through her bag then walk back to the bathroom. Her skirt swished as she moved, and Darius had to force his eyes higher, past the skin exposed in an opening in the back of the dress, to where her hair swung in a ponytail.
Maybe someday he’d know his wife would be okay with him appreciating the view, but that day wasn’t here yet. He did finally understand the term “little black dress” though.
“Our reservations are in an hour,” he called to her. “Jonathan helped me get them. We need to leave in about thirty minutes.”
“I’ll be ready long before then. Where are we going?”
“Savarino’s. It’s an Italian restaurant between Serenity Landing and Springfield.” They had a dance floor. He was looking forward to that. Like everyone in his family, he’d been taught to dance from a young age, but he’d never danced with someone who meant something to him.
He played on his phone until she walked back out, and he whistled again. Now her hair hung in waves around her shoulders. The dress still fit like it was made for her - and it might have been. Black tights or something encased her legs and led to black heels that made her legs look longer than usual.
“Ready?” she asked as she put something in a small purse.
“Yep.” Darius stood and put his suit jacket on.
Esther stopped right in front of him. “You clean up pretty nice yourself.” She tucked her bag under her arm then reached up to straighten his tie. “Thank you for taking me out.”
Darius slid his hand around her waist and pulled her closer to him. “It’s my pleasure.” His eyes focused on her lips. “I’d really like to kiss you, but I’d probably mess up your lipstick.” He settled for pressing his lips to her forehead.
“Later,” she promised. “You can kiss me later.”
His arm tightened around her waist. “I’m going to hold you to that.”
Her hand rested on his chest. “If I don’t hold you to it first.”
He chuckled. “I have a feeling we could miss our reservations if we’re not careful, so I’m going to take a step back and then drive my wife to a nice restaurant for dinner.”
She smiled at him, a smile he liked to think she saved just for him. “I think that sounds perfect.”
Esther wouldn’t let Darius hold her hand as he drove toward the restaurant. He was far too new a driver to be distracted, and she told him so.
He winked at her, said her legs were enough of a distraction already, then backed the car out of the garage.
She didn’t know what to do with that. She supposed her husband openly flirting with her was a good thing, but it still seemed odd and awkward.
The moment in their room hadn’t.
Darius was right about that. If he’d kissed her then, they never would have made their reservations.
“Where did you hear about this place?” Her stomach curled in knots. Between the look he’d given her, and the fact this was basically his first time driving, she wasn’t certain a conversation was the best plan, but she couldn’t take the silence any longer.
“Jonathan mentioned it when I talked with him the other day. He’s taking his wife for some occasion this weekend. I texted him earlier, and he said he’d get us reservations. It shouldn’t have been too difficult on a Thursday, but I figured it would be easier just to get his help.”
“I wouldn’t want to displace someone else from their dinner.”
“Places like this always have a contingency plan if someone more important shows up. Jonathan Langley-Cranston qualifies as important. A phone call from him that someone else important wants in will get results.”
“And we’re important.” These days she didn’t much feel like it. Maybe that was part of growing up. As a teenager, she would have thrown her weight as a Princess of San Majoria around. Living in Serenity Landing for the last six months, where no one knew who she was, where she’d spent a little bit of time volunteering when she wasn’t wallowing, had changed her perspective some.
“We’re royalty, Esther.” His voice was softer than she would have expected. “Your father is a king. So is my brother. My father was before his death.”
“But not here. In San Majoria, maybe. In Eyjania, the Quatremaine name certainly opens doors, but here?”
He shrugged as he slowed to a stop at a light. “Yes, here. We have no power or even influence politically, but yeah, we qualify as important to restaurants. If word gets out that royalty eats at a particular place, what happens?”
“They use the publicity and parlay it into increased business.”
“And that makes us qualify as important.”
All things Esther understood even if she didn’t always agree.
The rest of the ride was silent, and a few minutes later, Darius pulled into a parking lot. The valet opened the door for Esther to climb out. Darius reached her side and offered her his arm. She slid her hand into the crook of his elbow and walked through the opened door.
The maître d’ waited for them.
“Darius Quatremaine,” he told the man.
“Ah! Mr. Langley-Cranston’s friend. Any friend
of his is a friend of ours. This way please.”
As soon as they were seated, a waitress took their drink orders. Esther wanted a glass of wine, but Darius didn’t order one, likely because he was driving. She wasn’t sure she should, not until she knew for certain if she was pregnant again. They looked over the menu, discussing the various options, and placed their order when the waitress returned.
They talked about everything and nothing until their dinner arrived. Conversation stalled somewhat as they ate.
“This is much better than my spaghetti would have been,” she told him.
“I don’t know about that.”
She raised a brow at him.
He laughed. “Okay, you’re probably right, but it would have been delicious nonetheless.”
“It would have been edible. Delicious might be a bit much.”
When they finished, Darius tilted his head to the side. “Would you like to dance?”
“I’d like that.”
In just a few seconds, they were on the dance floor. He held her close, his hand splayed along the small of her back and his thumb brushing against the skin showing through the keyhole in the back of her dress.
“This is what I dreamed of,” he whispered.
“What?”
“After Sargasso. We danced in your room, but nothing like this. I wanted to take you out and dance with you.” He curled their joined hands into his chest. “I wondered how I’d ever find someone else to marry that I could actually be happy with. No one else would ever compare with Star. I had no idea how to find you though, or I would have.”
Did he really mean that? “You couldn’t use your family connections? Private investigator?”
“I thought about it, believe me, but no one knew I was in Sargasso. Everyone except my security team thought I was in Ravenzario.”
“Why did you lie?”
“I wanted to be somewhere where no one knew who I was. I checked in under the name of one of my security team. Planned to do nothing but laze around, maybe read some books, watch some movies, take some naps.”
“So why were you at the pool that day?” Pool was the correct term but a bit of a misnomer. It was in a protected, sheltered semi-indoor area and heated, gently sloped on either end to a flat area no more than a meter deep.
A Royally Beautiful Mess Page 8