A Royal Wedding: The Royals Series

by Brown, Tara

  “You can’t banish your mother, Aiden. And honestly, what did Jack do? Or Johan?” I rolled my eyes and wiped my hands, trying to process everything he was saying but it was too much. My part in his heartbreak and the way I’d made him feel ruined my appetite. I poured the sparkling water and took a large gulp, resting the glass against my mouth.

  “Fin, please forgive me for assuming the worst of you and being so blind.” He sounded desperate.

  “Okay. If you’ll forgive me for being the worst.”

  “You aren’t.”

  “I was. You were right. I should have timed being pissed off better and thought about what you were going through. And after you broke up with me, it was cruel not to come back to see you. I left you alone instead of sucking up my wounded pride.” I finished my drink and sat back, hating that I'd hurt him. “Because even if we broke up, you were still my friend. I abandoned you in the middle of the worst thing you’ve ever had to go through. I’m so sorry. I should have been there for you, been upfront, and told you what was going on so you’d see why I was being a dick. Clearly, holding it in wasn't the answer. And none of it matters now anyway. Your father’s image is ruined, regardless.”

  “Nothing could ruin my father’s image or my love for him; he was my father. I will always love him, even if he was ruthless. But he is dead, none of this matters anymore. What does matter is that I shouldn't have chased you away. And when you ran, I should have followed.”

  And there they were, all the things we should have said two months ago. In my case, two years ago.

  “I shouldn’t have run.”

  Had this been a normal relationship, just two regular people dating and fighting and being crazy, it wouldn't have gone this far. Normal people wouldn't have let it.

  But he wasn't normal, and he was dragging me down or up—I couldn't be sure which—with him.

  A light dinged on as I thought about how hard this all was.

  “Bea said something to me today that was pretty smart.”

  “Bea?” he asked, sounding surprised.

  “Yeah.” I closed my eyes and tried to recall it all, opening them when I had the words she’d said. “She said that you and I had plans and goals and paths we’d set out. And Geoff died and everything changed. And we haven’t adjusted to the changes, just lived in them bitterly, taking our anger at the situation out on each other.”

  “Interesting. When did Bea grow into such an astute psychologist?”

  “I don't know. But she’s right. We can’t get out of our own way because we’re both so angry this has turned out this way. And then Alex and your parents used that anger as an opportunity to create wedges between us.”

  “What advice did she offer to fix this?” he asked as he placed his napkin down and sat back in the large armchair.

  “That we need to modify the current path we’re on to fit us and work for us to create the life we want out of the pieces we have. Because if we blow this, we’ll be miserable forever. And she said she can’t imagine what we would be like if the other person ended up with someone else before we could fix it.”

  That statement made his eyes widen and flash something fierce at me. “Why would she bring someone else into it? Is it Lucas Reid?”

  “No, nothing happened. He is a friend and nothing more. But eventually I would start dating again, Aiden. Not Lucas, but someone. So would you.” I rolled my eyes.

  “I certainly wouldn't.” He sounded bitter.

  “You are going to die an old maid because we can’t work things out?” I laughed at that. “Practicing Hamlet in the garden alone,” I mocked his intensity.

  “Are you calling me dramatic?” he asked like that was a bit of irony, quite seriously too. “It amuses you that I would die never having loved again, while you moved on so easily?” He stood and went to the trolley and poured himself a drink. “That I would die having suffered a broken heart beyond repair?”

  “Is this scene from Hamlet?” I smiled wide, almost forgetting the past two years.

  “Let’s not act as if you haven’t seen the movies.” It was his turn to roll his eyes, but his tone was light and cheeky.

  “Of course I have. It’s part of school curriculum and my English teacher had a thing for Mel Gibson.” I shrugged and took a big drink of my sparkling water. “Are you really here to spread your dad’s ashes?” I finally asked the question I was curious about.

  “I am. Obviously, it could have waited but Mary’s phone call expedited things. I had lost all hope that we could mend things between us.” His eyes danced with hopeful emotion.

  “Mend things? You didn’t think this was going to be anything more than a pleasant meal between two friends?”

  “It hasn't been pleasant at all.” He sounded smug, his lips battling his need to smirk at me. “Nothing about this meal was pleasant.”

  “I guess not.” I bit my lip, also fighting a grin. “But it is over.”

  “You’re satisfied then?” He tilted his head, scrutinizing me and possibly my response.

  “With the meal? No, the conversation ruined it, which was why I wanted the recess,” I pointed out. “I was starving. Now I just feel sick.”

  “And what of our relationship being over?” He put down the glass and walked to me, making me back up until I hit the wall with a soft thud again. “Are you satisfied with that?”

  “Don't do this,” I pleaded, fully aware this was going to end one way.

  “Do what?” he teased placing his hands on the wall on either side of my shoulders, towering over me.

  “This,” I whispered, daring to stare up into his eyes, practically watching the storm pass or change, becoming lust.

  “I love you.”

  “I know,” I said, desperate to not get lost in him. “I don’t think love is our problem.”

  “No, I don’t suppose it is.” He lifted a hand to my face, running his thumb down my cheek. I slipped to the side, ducking under his arm and opening the door.

  “You aren’t sleeping in here and this isn’t how we’re mending things. Not after what happened in Andorra.”

  His mouth twitched like he wanted to fight me on it, but he sighed and nodded once before leaving the room, hesitating at the door. “Goodnight, Fin.”

  “Night.” I closed the door and stepped back, almost smiling. But how could I, after everything that had been said? We had really screwed this up. And fixing it was going to be a brutal road back.

  13

  Guys are always going on about how we don't know where we want to eat. They need to worry less about the side dishes and more about the fact most of them still have side hoes.

  Midnight snack

  Sleeping, or rather not sleeping, was brutal. I tossed and turned until I gave up and got out of bed. It was late and the house was dark. I made my way downstairs to the main floor. This was the first time I’d seen the summerhouse quiet. Not a single member of the staff was up. It was pleasant to be alone as I tiptoed into the kitchen, starving.

  I cracked open the massive fridge door, which was just the snack fridge, and perused my options, enjoying the way its light flooded the kitchen’s marble floors.

  Cut veg, bowls of fruit, yogurt, and rice pudding cups lined the top shelf of the refrigerator. Under them was the one thing I couldn't say no to: crème brûlée. They didn't have the sugar tops yet, but the heavy custard was set in the dishes, calling to me. I pulled one out, jumping when a dark shadow moved next to me.

  Startled, my hands shot into the air, launching the glass ramekin of crème brûlée.

  Aiden stepped forward and caught it quickly, cradling it and giving me a worried stare.

  “You scared the shit out of me!” I gasped.

  “Can’t sleep?” he asked, ignoring my near heart attack.

  “No.” I managed to catch my breath and pulled a second crème brûlée out, assuming he’d be eating that one.

  “Me either.” He turned and opened a drawer and then another, searching for spoons.


  “Here.” I grinned, opening the correct one and pulling out utensils. “Guess the king wouldn't know where the spoons are kept,” I mocked him lightly.

  “No, I suppose I wouldn't.” He took it well as I held out a tiny dessertspoon. He stepped closer, hovering over me, his eyes catching the limited light coming from the moonlit window and small dots on appliances. His fingers brushed against mine as he took it, creating a shiver up my arm and down my spine. He didn't step back, his eyes lingered too long on mine, mesmerizing me.

  I slipped past him, brushing my body against his as I walked to sit at the granite counter bar but remembered the room with the glass ceiling. I carried my snack down the hall to it and sat on one of the sofas, staring up at the moon. I’d anticipated some silent time to contemplate everything that had occurred in the last day, despite not being caught up with everything that had happened in the last two months.

  But Aiden didn't speak. He followed me and sat on the sofa close enough that the heat from his body was slightly noticeable against my bare leg. I’d worn shorts and a tank top to bed and hadn’t bothered with a sweater, believing myself alone.

  But it wasn't as if he noticed. He stared up at the glass ceiling, holding his dessert on the flat of his hand and breathing evenly.

  I took a small scoop of the cold, creamy dessert and spooned it into my mouth, closing my eyes and letting it melt on my tongue. It was sweet and smooth, perfectly flavored with vanilla and just the right amount of firmness.

  “Can we go back in time?” he asked softly. “Back to you and me and absolutely nothing else?”

  “I don't see how.” The thought of that was tragic.

  “I bought this place for you last spring,” he spoke to the moon. “I wanted to marry you here. Just us. Not the Andorran ceremony but the Aiden and Fin one. Just family and friends and a beautiful castle. No electronics allowed on the grounds, apart from the photog we hire. Everyone would be required to check their phones with their coats, and we could live how we want for one weekend.” There was no emotion or strength behind his words, as though he already regretted the dream he’d had for this place. Or rather mourned the loss of it before it had happened.

  “That sounds nice,” I whispered, hating the way he was able to ruin my appetite. I too now mourned the loss of something I never knew I wanted.

  He put down his crème brûlée and sighed heavily. “I truly am sorry, Fin.” He glanced at me, his eyes flooded with emotion.

  “Me too.” I blinked a solitary tear down my cheek. He lifted his hand and delicately swept it away before he pulled me to him, wrapping an arm around me and holding me to the side of his body. He dragged a large blanket from the back of the couch and covered me. I closed my eyes and listened to his heartbeat as it slowed and found a resting rate again. I wasn't sure when I fell asleep, but I sensed movement and opened my eyes, seeing his face and feeling him holding me tightly.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Carrying you to bed,” he said as if stating the obvious.

  “Oh.” I closed my eyes again, not even opening them when I felt the cold mattress. “Stay.” I held a hand out for him and patted the bed next to me.

  “As you wish.” His weight shifted the bed and his warmth drew me near him. We didn't wrap around one another but the sleep was the best I’d had in months.

  When I woke, he was still asleep. I stared at him for a moment, wishing I could take it all back, the last two years, before my stomach growled, reminding me we hadn’t eaten near enough in days.

  Quietly slipping from the bed, I pulled on a robe and tiptoed to the door. It was noisy to open and close, but he was breathing evenly when I turned and rushed downstairs.

  “You’re glowing, that’s positive,” Mary said as she met me at the bottom of the stairs.

  “You’re in trouble for the ambush.” I shook my head slowly. “I should have known. It was exactly why I didn't want to tell any of you bitches the story.”

  “All right, I’ll confess. There’s a chance I might be like my mother, but I only use my powers for good.” She winked and sauntered into the main sitting room where Bea was reading and sipping tea. I bypassed the room and went straight for the kitchen.

  “What can I fix for you, Miss Finley?” Theresa, the cook, asked politely. “Coffee, as usual?”

  “Yes, please.” I grabbed three pastries and put them on a plate. The bowl diet was out the window. I needed food and was about to eat whoever I came upon next.

  I ate one standing, waiting for her to fill my cup and put the cream and sugar in. She remembered how everyone liked everything. It was impressive and reminded me of working at Lakeside.

  “Thanks, Theresa.” I took the cup and sipped, washing down the delicious raspberry and custard Danish. “These are amazing.”

  “Thank you.”

  “No, thank you.” I carried my coffee and Danish to the sitting room.

  “Where’s Aiden?” Mary asked.

  “Right here,” he said as he walked into the room, still in his pajamas. He stood behind me and reached over my shoulder, stealing a Danish off my plate and taking a bite, practically eating the entire thing, before putting back the morsel that was left.

  “Hey!” I sneered.

  “Fin woke me as she closed the door. It creaks. I’ll have to get one of the staff to look at that.” He took my coffee and sipped it, washing down the flakey pastry. “Good morning.”

  “I closed it quietly.” I took back my coffee and guarded my plate as I went to sit, finishing what he’d left behind, barely enough for one bite. He sauntered into the kitchen to find his food and drink.

  “So?” Bea pried.

  “No.” I refused to discuss this.

  Aiden came in a moment later with a plate of Danish and croissant and a tea, saving me from the prying questions with his own, “What’s on the agenda today?”

  “School. How long are you staying?” We hadn’t spoken about any of the important things.

  “A couple of days. We need to take Dad’s ashes to Eilean Donan Castle tomorrow. I have some helicopters arranged for that.”

  “Eilean Donan? Why there?” Mary squinted in obvious confusion.

  “Dad wanted them there. Loved the area, said it was the last time he felt truly at peace.” Aiden shrugged.

  “Must have been from before he met Mother,” Mary remarked with a smile.

  “Must have,” Aiden agreed as if he didn't already know it was.

  “Is Mother coming?”

  “Of course, Mary.” Aiden sighed like he might call her daft, but he held his tongue for once. “She’s staying with Aunt Ellen and meeting us there.”

  “That’s a long haul from London.”

  “Well, she’s flying in tomorrow with Jack—”

  “Aiden!” Johan cut Aiden off, dashing into the room, still in his pajamas and a wide smile. Aiden stood and they embraced. Johan hugged him tightly, almost clinging. “You came. Did you bring Dad?”

  “He’s upstairs.”

  “Wait.” I wrinkled my nose. “Your dad’s ashes are in your room?”

  “Well actually, Fin,” he hesitated, fighting a grin, “they’re in your room. I had them brought in with my things and forgot to remove them after we—ate.”

  “You left a dead person’s ashes in my room?” My stomach dropped. Again, he’d killed my appetite. With him around I’d never need the bowl diet. Everyone laughed but me.

  “They’re likely not even ashes, Fin,” Jess cut in quickly. “The human body burns until there is nothing left but bones, and they grind those down to create the ‘ashes’ everyone spreads,” Jess said with a stretch and yawn, teetering like she might fall from standing on her one leg.

  “Thank you, Jess,” Aiden grumbled.

  “What?” She peered at the disgusted faces staring at her. No one laughed at that comment. “I thought everyone knew that.”

  “Pets too?” Bea’s eyes widened.

  “Pets are much worse
.” Jess winced. “They don't even separate the dead animals in the inciner—”

  “I’m certain Sparky’s ashes were genuinely all his and that they took great care when handling him,” Aiden cut Jess off sharply while trying to reassure Bea her dead dog wasn’t a pile of mixed remains.

  “Oh uh. Yeah. The higher-end vets’ offices totally do that,” she lied poorly with crimson cheeks.

  “Oh my God!” Bea shuddered. “I will kill them if they gave us random ground bones from other animals.”

  Aiden was ready to kill Jess and making attempts with his stare, but she was oblivious.

  Johan slid a hand around her waist and kissed her cheek. “Too smart for your own good sometimes. Let’s get you a coffee.” He scooped her up and carried her out of the living room.

  “He’s enjoying that broken ankle more than she is.” Mary rolled her eyes.

  “I think he’s just enjoying his new muscles more than she is,” Aiden joked. “He’s been working out with me a lot lately.” I had noticed Aiden’s weight gain.

  “Well, since breakfast has been ruined, I better get going. I have to go to school, and then the Gardens to work,” I changed the subject, worried about the stricken look that remained on Bea’s face.

  “I have to go to school too,” Mary agreed. “Bea?”

  “What?”

  “School? Do you need to hit the campus?” I asked.

  “Hit it? Oh yes, I do,” she said, furrowing her brow as she slipped her phone from her pocket and began typing, no doubt checking the validity of Jess’ claims.

  “I’ll join you. I haven’t been in a while,” Aiden said, sipping his tea. “I do miss the campus.”

  “You miss being the king of the campus,” Mary teased.

  “We all miss that.” I rolled my eyes and finished my coffee. The hordes of young women being smarty-pants and flirting or striking up conversations with him had grated on everyone’s nerves. No one’s more than Mary’s though. He’d tried so hard to fit in but it was impossible.