The Designated Twin

29. Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Two

Finley

Mother sits across from Lorelei and me at the long, rectangular table where we typically host state dinners. Father is beside Mother, looking every bit as tired and conflicted as I feel. I tried to deter the woman, who is dressed in a navy gown lined with gold swirling designs with gray hair adorning the top of her head under her golden crown, to allow us to speak in a more private, comfortable, low-key location, but she wouldn’t have it. A boiled turkey sits at the center of our small gathering of four with endless side dishes that could feed a small village.

Excessive.

But that’s Mother when she’s attempting to stand out. Which is also why I asked Gabriel and Anders to keep Lucy company. She doesn’t need to experience this side of my family. If I could shield Lorelei from it, I would, but she needs to get accustomed. They will hopefully become her family, too.

“Why did you go through all of this?” I finally ask, breaking the uncomfortable silence. I squeeze Lorelei’s hand, and she squeezes back. I’ve already whispered apologies to her countless times as the food was being whisked in and Mother threw sharp glances her way.

“You brought your girl home finally. I wanted to make a good impression.” Her voice is high-pitched with undertones of “how dare you question my intentions.”

“We both know you wanted to undermine Lorelei by showing off your wealth and status. Don’t lie, Mother.”

She doesn’t even flinch. “Believe what you will, son. But I simply wanted to impress the woman you have deemed worthy of becoming the next queen of Korsa.”

My hand tightens around Lorelei’s, and she winces. “Sorry,” I mumble in her ear then release her hand. I know I’ll be making fists again in no time.

“Thank you for going through the trouble for me, Your Highness,” Lorelei says with a slight bow of her head. Her voice is steady and sure, and the only thing impressing me in this room is her. “I’m in awe of your lovely dining area.”

Was that… sarcasm? I shift my eyes to Lorelei, who shows no sign of misgivings or intentional pushback.

Mother, however, must have interpreted what she said as I did because her overly pink lips turn down slightly. She clears her throat, switching to Korsan even though I asked her to please speak English in front of Lorelei. “Taak.”

“Vaarsaagood,” Lorelei replies with the slight dip of her chin. I grin, loving the way Korsan sounds in her voice. She hasn’t learned a lot, but she’s mastered pleasantries. In fact, she’s gifted in the sense she can pick up languages easily. She’ll have Korsan down in no time at all.

“You speak Korsan?” Father asks. “Finley has not informed me of that.”

Lorelei’s firm but welcoming expression never changes. “Not yet. I intend to speak fluently, however.”

“Wonderful,” Father says through a warm smile. My heart is thankful for a moment before Mother captures my attention again.

“Of course the queen of a country should be able to fluently speak its language,” she dismisses Lorelei’s efforts as if they aren’t enough. But that’s the thing with Mother… Nothing is enough unless we do exactly what she wants of us. What she insists is fit for us.

“Enough,” I state, my voice firm but respectful. “Mother, we need to address why you hired a woman named Selene to stalk our dates, why you decided to place the blame on Karin, and why you had Selene disclose our location to the press.”

The mood in the room instantly shifts, and I wonder briefly if Lorelei can feel it. I look her over once. She’s stern, sitting up rod-straight, her hands folded on top of her navy pencil skirt. I bought her this outfit (with Lucy’s help) before we left for Korsa. It’s the correct color of navy that matches our family crest. She has a white button down tucked into the skirt, and a matching navy blazer with gold buttons tops off the outfit. And because she is Lorelei, she wears her white sneakers and her hair in a ponytail.

She’s every ounce the queen that Korsa needs.

“Finley, I did not ask nor demand Selene to disclose your location. She did that of her own accord.”

Despite myself, I scoff. “Am I supposed to believe that after you made Karin take the fall for you?”

Mother sighs, and Father places a hand on her back as she hunches over in a show of defeat. “You’re right. I do not have ground to stand on because of my previous deception, but I am being honest. That was all her, and she is now in custody with our court.”

“Why put her in court when you are the one responsible for hiring her in the first place? Will you own up to your actions in front of the court?” The sharpness in my voice could carve the turkey in the center of the table, but I will no longer allow Mother to believe she has a right to control my life in this manner. I’ve skirted around her wishes long enough. It’s time to put an end to it.

“We will handle it, Finley,” Father replies in her stead. My eyes don’t move from Mother, whose gaze is fixated on the empty porcelain plate in front of her.

“I want to hear it from her, Father.”

“I understand, but your Mother is under great pressure right now, and—”

“Is she?” I bite. A laugh of disbelief bubbles out of me. I realize I’m crossing a line, allowing my indignation to speak on my behalf, but I simply don’t care right now. “Is she the one becoming King of Korsa in less than a year? Is she the one being forced to marry because an outdated piece of paper commands it? Has she dealt with her dates being stalked? Experienced the fear that the person she loves may be in danger? Had to be lifted out of a campsite via helicopter?” My breaths come heavy, and then I feel Lorelei’s hand rest on my thigh. All the anger, frustration, and hurt dial down by ten notches at the warmth radiating underneath her palm. My next words are a plea for Mother to see me. “You both gave me permission to pursue the qualifications of kingship on my own terms for three months. You both stated I could have this time. We all agreed. We agreed if it didn’t work out that I would marry Karin. And then… Then you, Mother, tried to once again take my choice away. You didn’t trust me or have an ounce of faith in me. And that is what hurts me the most.”

I hang my head, closing my eyes and attempting to push back the tears threatening to fall. Placing my hand over Lorelei’s brings another wave of reprieve from the heavy cloud of painful emotion smothering me. The room has fallen silent, not even the sound of movement typically present outside the tall, double doors can be heard. Slowly, I raise my head and open my eyes. Mother is staring at me with water prickling at the edges of her blue eyes. Father is watching Mother.

I glance at Lorelei, who is watching me.

The scrape of a chair jolts my attention. Mother raises from her seat, Father following suit. Lorelei and I jump to our feet out of respect, but without another look in my direction, she walks away, the heavy click of heels on the granite floors bouncing off the four cream walls of the large hosting room.

Father hurriedly apologizes to Lorelei and me before giving me one last look of desperation and scurrying off after my mother. We sit down in silence after the doors click shut.

And then I lose every ounce of restraint, plunging my elbows onto the thick, wooden table and covering my water-filled eyes with my hands. I choke on the sobs as they overtake my body—the pain caused by my own mother has become too unbearable to shove down.

Lorelei places her hand on my back at some point; I’m vaguely aware of the way she rubs circles while patting my thigh with her other hand. She doesn’t speak but lets me get it all out, her touch alone keeping me from collapsing to my knees. Once I can no longer force a teardrop from my eyes, I wipe my face with the cloth napkin beside me and face Lorelei, whose expression is one of sorrow and understanding. Not an ounce of accusation or disgust at a grown, sobbing man to be found.

In fact, when I give her the smallest of smiles, she tilts her head and asks, “Feel better now?”

A genuine laugh escapes me as I admire this lovely woman the Lord has gifted me with. “A little more weightless, but this isn’t over yet.”

“You’re right.” She furrows her eyebrows and purses her lips in thought. “It wasn’t cool how she walked away without saying anything, but I guess people process differently.”

“That’s my mother for you. If she isn’t in the right or given what she desires, she will make sure no one else is happy. I don’t know if I’ve ever truly heard the words ‘I’m sorry’ from her.”

Lorelei removes her hands from me, but she continues to angle herself towards me, her knees inches from my legs. “I wonder what made her that way. Everyone has a story.”

That phrase jolts me. What is my mother’s story? My entire life, she’s been the controlling, demanding Queen of Korsa whom I knew loved me though she never showed her love for me in the ways I receive it best. She hardly ever hugged me, told me she loved me, or praised me. But I knew she did because I learned to see how she loved—action and service to others. She took care of me, stood up for me, and made sure my every need and most desires were met. Because I knew she loved me, I often gave in to her wishes and appeased her demands.

But somewhere underneath all the knowledge I have of her love is a little boy who only craved the warmth of his mother’s arms. A teen who desired to be praised for his good actions, grades, and talents. A young man who wants to hear the words ‘I love you’ from his mother’s lips.

And maybe I haven’t stopped to think about what made her this way. Who made her this way? I’ve been blinded by my own hurts to ask her about hers.

“Finley?”

“Hm?” I answer automatically to the sound of Lorelei saying my name. My thoughts drift away as I lose myself in the freckles of skin and the sparkle of her hazel eyes.

“You’re okay,” she whispers, taking my hands between hers. “We will walk through this. Together. I’m going to stand by you. My space is always a space for your tears and your pain and your insecurities. If you can somehow manage my sensory overload breakdowns, then I can manage your tears.”

My heart explodes with immense love for the woman beside me. Before I can stop myself, I whisper, “You’re beautiful, Lorelei. Your body, your brain, your heart, and your soul.”

A faint blush coats her cheeks and nose, but she doesn’t look away. My lips ache to kiss the pinkened skin, every freckle, and her parted lips.

I clear my throat. “Does this mean you are saying yes to me? Yes to everything it means to be by my side? Yes to dating me with intentions of marrying me?” Hope swells in my chest, and I dare to believe a woman like her will marry me.

“Yes, Finley.” A confident, broad smile takes over her features. But then she tilts her head, her ponytail falling to the side. “But this doesn’t mean we are engaged, right? I need more time than that, please. I’m still trying to figure out this dating thing.”

“Oh, Leilei. You’ll know when I propose to you.” I laugh freely, the pain from earlier a wisp of a bad dream. I know I’ll have to come back to it, but right now, in this moment, I will live for the bliss of it all. I stand, tugging her up with me. I wrap my arms around my person, determined to never let her go. The tea tree scent of her hair fills my senses, and I can’t wait to smell that as I fall asleep for the rest of my life. The physical ache in my bones reminds me of one important detail that I need clarity on when it comes to a married life with her. “Bae?”

She rolls her eyes at the term of endearment but gives me her attention. Her face is so close to mine; a few inches would connect our lips. My nose would fit perfectly against hers. My hands slide to cup her face, her skin soft beneath my touch. The ache for her streams throughout my nervous system.

“As you know, I need physical touch. And as I know, you are quite adverse to it. So I have to ask, if we married, will we be able to… you know? Make love?”

Her eyes grow wide while the remnant of the last blush deepens. “I, um, well…” she stutters. I give her the time to process and formulate, and she finally says, “I believe so. But it might take some easing into.”

My cheeks hurt from smiling so big. “Practice makes perfect, sweetheart.” I wink, and she shoves away from me with a laugh of disbelief.

“Finley Folke Andersson, you will be the death of me.”

I pull her close again, engaging her in my arms and discreetly sniffing her hair. “I pray to be the life of you.”

She chuckles. “Sorry. God is the life of me. But you can come second.”

“That is the only spot I’d aim to be in,” I affirm, sending a prayerful thank you to Him for this blessing in my arms.

We stand in silence for a moment before Lorelei pulls back from the embrace. A panic runs through me as our eyes meet. She looks worried and hesitant. “What’s going through your mind?” I ask.

She swallows, her eyes shifting away from me for a millisecond before snapping back. “I think I’m ready to try.”

“Try what?”

“Kissing you.”