The Designated Twin

30. Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Three

Lorelei

My boyfriend looks shell-shocked.

Boyfriend.

Huh.

Weird how that little word no longer makes my brain squirm. In fact, I quite enjoy it.

But Finley Andersson is so much more to me than a mere boyfriend.

Something snapped in my weirdly wired brain today when I sat at a table of admittedly delicious-smelling food and watched him interact with his mother and father, saw Korsa with my own eyes, and noticed that this manly, strong, capable prince is stepping up to the throne to protect his siblings all the while fulfilling a duty assigned to him at birth.

When he told his mother all he wanted from her was her trust and faith, my heart shattered into pieces. I saw Finley. For the first time, I saw a part of him that I’m certain no one else has seen. He was vulnerable. Hurt. Insecure. And in need of love.

We will give him all the love, my brain shouted. And I knew. It’s as if God allowed the walls to fall. Being with Finley makes sense. He makes sense. He loves me for me. He believes in me.

And he needs someone to believe in him. I do. I believe he means it when he tells me that I would be a great queen. He isn't new to this royal life. He knows what it takes. And if he says I have it, then I have to believe him. He needs me in his corner the same way he has been in my corner. Heck, the man wanted me before he knew I was actually me. I see it all now. Very clearly.

But I think I broke him…

“Finley? If you’re not ready, then okay. That’s fine. I just thought—”

“I’m ready!” he interrupts in a high-pitched voice, then he coughs a few times. His next words come out in his normal, deeper voice. “Sorry, I mean, yes. I am ready to try if you are absolutely sure.”

My lips twitch, amusement washing over me. “But first, let’s eat this lovely food your mother has prepared for us. I would like to be in my room when we try. Just in case it doesn’t go… well.”

Finley swallows and nods a little too eagerly. I settle into my cushioned seat and call Lucy to come down. Minutes later, she arrives with Gabriel and Anders flanking her sides, a look of whimsical awe in her every movement. She wears a navy dress with a hemline that rests above her knees, her feet donned with matching shoes. Golden buttons run from the top to the bottom of her fitted dress. Her strawberry blonde hair is curled in big waves that cascade down her shoulders, her bangs swooped to the side.

My twin is immaculate.

Gabriel’s constant gaze on her says that he thinks the same thing.

Part of me secretly wishes the two of them would have continued on and Lucy could move here with me, but she was adamant that Gabriel’s career was too high-risk for her sanity.

“Ugh, Lorelei. I hate you. You will eat like this every single day.”

I laugh, then I whisper, “You could, too. Date Gabriel and move here. Room next to me. Never leave my side.” I’m joking with her, but only partly. My heart aches at the thought of not being next to my sister every single day. We’ve only ever spent a few days apart at most. We roomed together in college. She is my person.

She brushes me off. “I’ve already explained that one. So,” she leans in to me, “did you decide you will stay?”

I grin, recounting the events that recently unfolded to secure in my head that I do in fact belong here. If Finley thinks I do, then I believe him.

“Wow, so are you two going to make nice with the queen?” Lucy asks.

Finley nudges into our conversation. “My mother will come around. She may have engaged in unfavorable actions, but I know she’s only trying to do what she perceives is best. I’ll hold my ground, and she will learn to accept reality.”

We spend the rest of the meal talking, laughing, and making this place feel like I can actually make it a home. At the very least, this room. Lucy says we will walk every hall of this palace, which is soaked in history by the way, until I feel at home.

Finley meets Lucy and me at the opening of the Royal Garden around dusk. I’m tired from the time change, stupidly delirious from consuming so much history as I walked the halls of Stjarna Palace, and my brain aches from trying to understand Finley’s explanation of his antique car collection. Regardless, I’m feeling freer than I ever have in my entire existence. The fears I had surrounding coming here have vanished. Everyone except the queen has made me feel completely at ease. Furthermore, physical touch doesn’t seem to be a big thing here like it is in the South. Personal spaces are respected amongst everyone, and that is something I can totally get used to.

“Look!” Lucy squeals, pointing in front of us at an archway, white with ivy winding up the sides, chrysanthemums poking through the green. A memory flashes across my vision as I catch sight of Finley standing underneath it wearing a white three-buttoned dress shirt and navy dress pants. His hair is in its typical disheveled form, and he looks every inch the Prince of Hearts with his roguish smile and heated eyes directed at me.

My dream.

Not quite the same, but mighty close…

The haze around the forgotten dream lifts, and I vividly remember kissing the prince. My face heats, but Lucy nudges me, breaking the hold the image has on me.

“Your favorite flower.” She waggles her eyebrows. “With your favorite man underneath them.”

The blush deepens as we approach Finley. Gabriel stands behind him as Anders was the one to escort us to the gardens. Once I’m directly in front of the grinning, happy man, I walk right into his outstretched arms for a life-giving hug. With every moment of contact between us, and everytime I choose to linger instead of pull away, I’m growing more comfortable and accustomed to his fiery touch.

“Are you ready to meet two of your biggest fans?” he whispers in my ear before breaking our hug.

“Huh?” I cock my head to the side and look past him. The plants catch my attention first. There. Are. So. Many. This is heaven. Shrubs are shaped to resemble different animals and objects, and the fountain at the center of the garden is spewing like a geyser around a statue of a mermaid and merman, strong and unwavering. Absolutely beautiful. The aroma of fresh, misty water mixed with florals is intoxicating—natural, sweet, and earthy.

I tap Finley’s shoulder then point to the fountain. “Have you heard of the myths surrounding the Nephilim mentioned in Genesis six?”

He nods, following my gaze to the intertwined merpeople. “Are you about to tell me about how the merpeople are by-products of the supposedly fallen angels that mingled with humans?”

I tuck a strand of flyaway hair that’s invaded my vision before smiling at Finley. The man just gets me sometimes. “Yes. But it seems you are aware. What are your thoughts on that subject? Do you think that the origin of fae creatures stems from Nephilim?”

“Something to consider. Legend has it that the fae are guardians of this world for God. The merpeople guardians of the waters, perhaps,” he states, placing his hands on my hips and turning me towards the swings off to the side of the fountain. “But we won’t know on this side of heaven. You can, however, get to know my siblings.”

Peeling my eyes away from the colorful beauty of this place, I spot two people, a man and a woman, who both resemble Finley. Instantly, I catalog them as Johan and Astrid, his older brother and younger sister. The young woman waves with both hands, an excited smile across her perfect, sharp face. The thought crosses my mind that if Finley was a woman, he would look like his sister. Next to her, sitting down on a rather big swing, is Johan.

I wave timidly and pray she doesn’t want to hug me, but the way she’s bounding up to my side diminishes my hope.

Finley sticks his hand out in front of me right as Astrid goes in for a hug. “Remember what I told you? Ask permission before you embrace her.”

My soul melts.

“Right,” Astrid says. Her accent is thick, but I can still make out her quick words. “May I hug you quickly, Lorelei? I’ve been dying to meet you! I thought I’d have to come down to Mississippi to persuade you to date my big brother. He’s a tool sometimes, but I promise you won’t find a better man.” Astrid’s rambling and buoyant personality reminds me so much of Lucy, and that thought alone brings a wave of comfort and ease to my nerves.

But not enough for physical contact.

“Thank you for asking, Astrid, but I don’t think I am prepared for that at the moment.”

Her face falls only a fraction, but she rebounds quickly. “No problem! I plan to win you over quickly.” She laughs, and I join. She truly radiates light—I glance at Finley, who is smiling at his sister—just as Finley does. Then she glances behind to my sister. “And you must be the twin Finley was supposed to date.”

“That’s me,” she says through a laugh. “And I am a hugger.” Lucy steps around me and embraces Astrid. Astrid immediately begins to compliment Lucy’s fashion while Finley whisks me away to where his brother sits on a huge white swing with a bed of ivy and wildflowers covering the top of it.

Johan stands, slightly shorter than Finley is, and introduces himself, his hand outstretched.

That I can do. I shake his hand briefly and introduce myself, noting how different Johan looks from Finley. Where Finley and Astrid resemble their father, Johan looks a male version of his mother. But his warm smile and welcoming tone is lightyears away from what I experienced with the queen at lunch time.

“You have no idea how prayed for you are, Lorelei,” Johan says in accented English. I shift my eyes to Finley, who has gone a little pink in the cheeks. It’s a cute look on him. “We thought this man here would never settle down. Scared the daylights out of me when I was diagnosed with Parkinson’s and learned I’d need to pass the crown prince title to him.”

“Not cool, broor.” Finley playfully shoves him.

“Not because you aren’t capable.” Johan laughs, his eyes lighting up the same way Finley’s does when he’s amused. “But because I didn’t think you’d find someone who would want to marry you in time to ascend the throne. You’re a picky man.”

I raise an eyebrow in agreement. “He’s dated half the world.”

Johan laughs while Finley looks upon me with disbelief. Finley retorts, “I dated often because I am picky. You are the only woman I’ve asked to date me with intentions of marriage. You are the only woman I’ve presented a handmade gift to as per Korsan tradition to make intentions known.”

“That’s what I was saying. I was agreeing that you are picky,” I state, perplexed by his explanative response. “What did my tone sound like?”

Now Finley laughs. “Ah, that makes sense. I thought you were being sarcastic stating that I wasn’t picky because I have dated so much.”

I shrug. “Nope. But thanks for the clarification.”

“Always, Leilei. We will continue to get to know each other until I can read your speech patterns the way you read Common Sense.”

“Too cute,” Johan coos. At that moment, Lucy and Astrid join us. We all stroll through the gardens, laughing and getting to know each other. I thoroughly enjoy Johan’s calm steadiness and Astrid’s bubbliness. I think… I think I will fit in just fine here.

After about forty-five minutes, we part ways as the sun fully sets. Finley navigates us through the palace. Instead of Lucy coming into our room with me, however, she detours and goes to visit the pool hall with Anders and Gabriel. I think Astrid planned to meet her down there, too.

But I am perfectly okay with that because as Finley and I stand in front of the wooden door with stars carved into it, my nerves begin to buzz with excitement. We haven’t said much to each other as we’ve walked through the halls hand in hand, the tension between us thick and heavy. And now it’s time to break it.

I clear my throat. “Will you come in with me for a little while?”

Flames flicker across his eyes, and I fear briefly that this kiss will burn me alive. “Yes,” he responds in a voice that’s rough as sandpaper.

I push open the door, and he quickly takes the weight of it by placing his hand on the smooth, stain-coated wood. I walk into the room I barely got to know earlier today as I’ve been whisked around the palace. The walls are a shimmering light gold with white trims, a massive bed with navy sheets and a white quilt rests against a wall, middle aligned.

A white loveseat is against one wall while a desk area opposes it. I don’t know if I want to stand or sit, so I opt for standing. I had slipped my shoes off before stepping into the room, but I go ahead and take my socks off and allow my feet to press against the cool hardwood floor. I pay attention to the smooth ceiling, the feeling of Finley’s hand resting on my hip, and the large window in front of us. Grounding myself before the sensory experience that is about to happen.

Despite my best efforts, my nerves are shot and my body buzzes with anticipation. I say a silent prayer that I can handle this and that everything will be okay. But there’s ultimately only one way to find out…

I turn to face Finley, who is looking at me with the most tender expression. The corners of his lips tug into a light smile and his eyes glisten with wonder. Instantly I’m at ease, that is until his other hand comes to a rest on my other hip and he tugs me close to him. My tilted chin is inches away from his downward gaze. He doesn’t speak, but his eyes are seemingly asking permission to move closer. I swallow my fear and nod ever so slightly. One hand slides up my arm until he cups my face, the other hand splaying across the small of my back and he brings me closer. I press my hands against his chest, not to stop him, but to stabilize myself. He hesitates at my movement, so I whisper, “Kiss me.”

Then I close my eyes and give myself over to the heat radiating off his skin and the smell of mint on his breath. His lips press against mine as if they were a feather brushing the tip of a blade of grass. I’m frozen as he lingers, my brain short circuiting on what to do next, so I stand there, committing the feel of his lips on mine to memory.

A moment later, he pulls away, resting his forehead against mine. He isn’t smiling; in fact, he swipes his tongue across his bottom lip, an obvious hunger for more raging within him.

I handle the texture of his lips just fine.

Maybe I can try more?

I want to try more.

I wrap his shirt in my fist and drag him down to my lips again, as if it’s an action I’ve done a million times in my life. When his lips crash against mine, he groans, forcing my lips apart as the tender kiss from before disappears into a deep, longing slow show of passion and desire. I move naturally against him, as if my lips were made for him, but then a feeling of a thousand needles pricking my skin overtakes the pleasure of his kiss. I shove him away, my breaths labored and heavy as I fight to maintain mental clarity and focus.

Finley reaches for me, but I hold out a hand to stop him.

“Lorelei?” He questions in a broken, breathless plea. Are you okay? Did I hurt you? What can I do? I can hear all those questions racing through his brain.

“Give me a moment,” I manage to say. I evaluate my surroundings again. My feet are cool against hardwood. There are white and navy thick curtains lining the large window. A painting from Swedish painter Carl Frederik Hill called Apple Tree in Blossom is prominently displayed above the king-size bed. “Did you know that the artist who painted the landscape oil painting above the bed was rejected so much that he became severely depressed and was eventually put into an asylum for schizophrenia and constant hallucination? It’s a shame, really, how the world appreciates art after the artist has passed and gone. What an insufferable life.”

Spewing the random fact helped to calm my nerves, and the sharp, prickling feeling has dulled to a phantom pinch. I finally snap my gaze to Finley, who is looking at me with love, understanding, and patience.

“Humanity doesn’t appreciate the dark parts of life until they can no longer be impacted by them. When the dark parts are alive and well, it’s frightening to others who wish not to experience the emotion associated with voids.” Finley moves to stand closer to me, but he doesn’t touch me. “I appreciate your dark parts, Lorelei. Thank you for gifting me and trusting me with your first kiss.” He smiles wickedly. “It was mind-blowing while it lasted, and I can’t wait to help ease you into longer, deeper, desperate passionate kisses. I am up to assist you whenever you call, my Leilei.”

“I—I love you,” I blurt. Finley opens his arms, and I’m at ease enough to slip into them, my hands grasping at his back as I pull him flush against me. I bury my head in his chest, breathing in his scent that smells like rain on the horizon.

“You are my life now, pretty woman.”

And dang it.

I believe this man.

I am his.

He is mine.

Forever.

Itake a deep breath, then I knock on the door Astrid led me to—the Queen’s sitting room. The moment I knew I wanted Finley forever, I was burdened to come speak to his mother. Seeing that hurt etched all over his face, tainting our day no matter how hard he tried to hide it, nearly killed me. I may be overstepping a boundary, but honestly, I want justice for the person I love. The man I love.

And ultimately, even if it was Lucy who actually encountered the stalker, this has to do with me.

“Lorelei,” the queen acknowledges with a slight dip of her head and a plastic smile. “Astrid mentioned you would be stopping by tonight. How can I be of assistance?”

“May I come in and speak with you regarding Finley?”

“Whatever for? Has he done something wrong?” Her Korsan-accented tone is considerate but something in her glinting eyes challenges me to misstep.

I square my shoulders. “No, Your Highness. But you have.”

Her silver brows hardly lift. Her thin smile never fades away. “Come in, Lorelei. It seems we have much to discuss.”

I gulp as I cross over the threshold. No matter the bravado I’m summoning into existence right now, this woman is still the queen of a whole entire country. And she still reminds me of an ice queen.

The room is full of books. That’s the first thing I notice. It’s no library, but it must be her personal collection. An entire wall is dedicated to red oak wooden shelves. She has two golden-tufted chairs that sit on either side of a matching couch in the center of the room. A large window with a lovely nighttime view of the garden is on the backside of the room, and finally, on the wall opposite of the bookshelf, is a portrait of the entire family, including what I assume to be grandparents. The ceiling is high, the corners of the walls an intricate knotted wood design.

“Take a seat.” The queen instructs, gesturing to the couch. I obey. “Racinda, please bring tea.”

A woman I hadn’t noticed standing behind me scurries off.

The quiet is so loud, echoing as if I was in an empty ballroom, and I resist the urge to cover my ears with my palms to comfort myself.

“What kind of mother would sic a stalker on her son?” I blurt the question just to clear the obnoxiously beating silence.

The queen doesn’t even budge, but I do notice her shoulders tense. She looks away from me as she says, “The kind who is looking out for his well-being. You don’t know Finley like I do. The responsibility he is having to take on.”

“With all due respect, I do. I know Finley is warm-hearted and kind. I know he looks out for the people he cares about. I know he makes people smile wherever he goes. He’s easygoing and loves to laugh.” I pause for a moment, thinking about the man I’ve fallen for. The queen turns her gaze back to me. I clear my throat and continue. “But underneath all that, he’s anxious. He’s insecure in areas of his life, and he needs constant reassurance and affection. He understands the role he is acquiring, and he wants to be the best possible king he can be. He wants to follow in his father’s footsteps.”

The silence returns with a screaming vengeance, and I pray that the Lord will make this queen open her mouth to talk.

Or command a banshee to screech.

Something.

The door swings open, and the woman who left earlier is back with a tray of tea. The clanking of the white glass cups against the shiny golden tray brings a welcome reprieve.

“Thank you,” I say to the older woman as she hands me a cup of steaming tea. It smells like chamomile, and I silently commend the woman on her taste.

After she leaves, the queen sighs, taking a sip of her own tea. “It seems you know my son. Better than I thought you did. And the simple fact that you dared to approach me in this manner says a lot about your character, Lorelei.”

“I’m sorry if I’ve come off as blunt or rude. That was not my intention. But I did feel the need to defend the man I love and care deeply about. Finley is important to me, Your Highness.”

“Love? You—you love him?” she stutters over her words, her icy gray eyes rounded and jaw slightly left hanging open.

I nod affirmatively. “Yes. I love him. And I choose to stand by his side as he chooses me.”

And to my utter shock, the queen smiles a genuine, dethawing, toothy grin. “I’m so pleased to hear that, Lorelei.” She sets her tea down and claps her hands together. “Please allow me to explain my actions. So many women in the past have tried to use Finley. They wanted his money or his title. He was too much of a gentleman with a heart of gold to see the blackened souls of those who attempted to have him. The princess of our neighboring country, Karin, is as sweet a soul as Finley is, if not a little more abrupt in nature. She agreed to take the fall if my plan went south, which it obviously did, and I plan to make everything right with her.

“But I digress. I wanted to make sure Finley found a woman who could be his counterpart. You see, my husband is the older version of his son. We are opposites in many ways, but that helps us. Whereas he is spontaneous and full of laughter, I am structured and serious. Where he is anxious and questions his decisions, I stick to decisions once I arrive at them. There are many other things I could say, but I see that you and Finley will interact in very similar ways to me and my husband. You will be good for him, Lorelei. I can tell from what his siblings and father have told me and from what little I’ve seen in you myself.”

I feel like I should want to cry, but I don’t. Instead, I’m just purely thankful. I’m thankful she is accepting me, is doing me the honor of explaining herself, and is welcoming me into her life.

“Thank you for sharing that with me,” I say to the queen. I don’t offer more because I’m unsure of what to say. So, I end with, “Please explain everything to Finley. He is very hurt by your actions and just wants you to trust and believe in him.”

The queen’s smile softens as she tilts her head. The simplistic nighttime gown she wears is navy, contrasting against her pale skin and silvery hair nicely.

“I will, Lorelei. I haven’t done a great job in the past of trusting and believing in him, but it wasn’t because of him. It was because of my own controlling nature. I want what’s best for my son. And that does appear to be you. I know he wouldn’t settle for just anyone.”

“He wouldn’t,” I agree. “Nor would I.”

She smiles again then rises. I stand with her. Then, she opens her arms.

Despite not wanting to hug, I embrace the queen. I feel like she needs this hug more than I do judging by the water pooling in her eyes. Thankfully, she breaks the contact after five seconds.

“Thank you, Lorelei,” she says in Korsan.

I respond in Korsan, bowing my respects to the Queen.

As I turn to leave the room, she speaks up in a voice that has warmed like a kindling fire since I first walked into this room, “Please, call me Sylvia.”