Chapter 5
Spencer
T
he next day, Abigail asks me to meet her for coffee.
Before I can do that, I negotiate with the finance minister, sit in on a meeting with my father, the king, and the UK Secretary of State, and stay for Fenella’s proposal to gentrify the neighbourhood of houses on the edge of town that have been sitting vacant for the last few years.
By the time I head into Battle Harbour in time to see Abigail, I’m ready for a break.
Twelve-or-fourteen-hour days have been the norm for me since I graduated law school, but since Abigail got back, I’ve been trying to cut back. It makes her happy when I’m not falling asleep during a movie.
But she doesn’t look all that happy when I see her standing outside Coffee for the Sole, and her expression opens a yawning pit in my stomach. Something feels off.
Or maybe it’s me.
After I got back to the castle last night, I made sure I had everything I needed for the morning’s meeting. And then I spent over an hour convincing myself not to call Lyra to find out what the hell she was doing.
I couldn’t, because it’s none of my business. We’re friends—I think—so the only reason I should call her is to wish her well.
As a pseudo-member of the royal family, I could make it my business, but it wouldn’t be pretty if I got her on the phone. We’d end up fighting, like what usually happens when I question her judgement about something.
And I am questioning her judgement.
But deep down, I know there’s more to my concerns about Lyra than how her behaviour will affect the royal family.
And that’s why something feels off with Abigail.
I shouldn’t have been thinking about Lyra. I shouldn’t have let those thoughts keep me awake because I needed to be sharp for the meeting.
I need this third cup of coffee more than I usually do, and it’s all Lyra’s fault.
“How did it go this morning?” Abigail asks as I hug her hello.
“Fine. The finance minister was amenable to my suggestions and—”
“I meant, how did it go talking to the king about Lyra? I figure that would be a priority.”
I blink with surprise. There’s a crispness in Abigail’s tone, like she sharpened the edges of her words. “Why would you think that?”
“You seemed upset when Odin told us last night.”
“I wasn’t.”
“He called to tell you—”
“He called to tell all of us,” I correct, feeling a mild panic starting to rise.
“He must have thought you’d be something about it,” she says with a knowing glance at me. “I need a coffee and then let’s take a walk. Do you have time?”
“I—sure. Of course. But I don’t understand—”
“I think you do.” She opens the door and heads inside the coffee shop.
Greetings ring out as we head to the counter, grouping our names together like we’re a couple.
Which I expect we are.
I’ve never been part of a couple here in Battle Harbour.
I’ve always been single Spencer while I’ve lived here.
My relationships—if you can call them that—have been with people outside of the royal circle.
My involvements happened while I was away, with women from away.
I’ve never even brought a woman home to meet my friends and family.
There have been many who asked to meet the royal family once they heard of my connections, but they never lasted very long.
I’ve always felt wrong to have a woman on my arm walking through the streets of Battle Harbour. Stopping for coffee at Coffee for the Sole, having fish and chips after work, playing pool at The King’s Hat.
It’s different with Abigail because we did all those things before, when we were younger.
When we were just friends. Once Hettie and Bo got together in high school, Abigail and I made up an inseparable foursome.
I was a year ahead of Bo in school and I left for university right after graduation, but Bo, Hettie and Abigail stayed here, so I came home a lot to be with them.
Walking into Coffee for the Sole with Abigail now has an odd sense of déjà vu.
Only it’s different.
After we get our order and chat to Silas for a few minutes—about Lyra, since that’s all the town wants to talk about now that the news about her being the Suitorette has been announced—we head across the square to the pier.
It’s nearly empty at this time of the afternoon.
Most of the fishing boats are out and it’s too early for crowds waiting for their catch to begin gathering.
The waves lap at the pier, a soothing backdrop for the ever-present calls of the seagulls.
Out on the water, a few boats are visible and if I squint, that might be the blowhole of a whale.
Or it might just be a wave.
I don’t often take the time to appreciate what Battle Harbour has to offer, but on a late June day like today, it’s obvious there is a lot to offer.
“The capelin roll will be starting soon,” I say as we step off the pier onto the rocky beach.
“Any day now,” Abigail agrees, pushing her short hair away from her face. “Fenella is planning a party around it.”
“Fun.” The capelin are small, silvery fish that live in the Atlantic. Once a year, they move, en masse, to the beaches to spawn, creating a wave, or roll, of fish. People catch them with hooks, lines, nets, and buckets, and even sometimes by hand.
Their arrival in the water around Battle Harbour means the arrival of summer, and today, the breeze is warm, the sun is bright, and it feels like summer is beginning.
“I didn’t bring you here to talk about fish,” Abigail points out. “As interesting as it might be.”
“I do talk a lot about fish,” I say ruefully, years of fishing disputes with the Canadians, the French, and even Scotland, making me far more knowledgeable about the animal than I’ve ever wanted to be.
“I didn’t talk to the king this morning,” I add as Abigail pauses to slip off her shoes to walk close to the water.
Screaming seagulls join us in the hope that we have more than coffee in our hands.
“I don’t know why you think Lyra’s decision would be a concern for me. ”
“Are you in love with her?”
“I—” My mind blanks. I have no idea how to answer that. Lyra is… Lyra has always—I have always…
“Scratch that.” Abigail stoops to pick up a piece of sea glass, looking out at the waves instead of me.
“You are in love with her. The family knows it. The whole country knows it. Anyone who has seen you two together, or even a picture of the two of you, can tell.” Her shoulders slump with resignation.
“Abigail—”
She turns to me and her expression…
I hope I never have to see such hurt and disappointment cross anyone’s face. Luckily, she’s wearing her sunglasses, so I don’t have to see the sadness in her dark eyes.
I know it’s there.
“I thought, maybe, because of our history, I might have a chance,” she says in a low voice like she’s talking to herself. “I think you started to believe it too, and then this.”
“This…?” If I pretend not to know what she’s talking about, will it all go away?
“The Suitor show. The Suitorette, actually. The fact that Princess Lyra is the Suitorette.”
It’s not going away. I’m really going to have to deal with this. I stare out at the water, afraid to look at Abigail. “Lyra can do what she wants,” I offer. “It’s no business of mine.”
“Oh, but it is, Spencer. And now it’s my business.” She turns back to the water just in time to see a pelican swoop down to grab an afternoon snack.
She points it out, and I think it’s all over.
But no. Abigail is just getting started.
“I’m all for Princess Lyra doing what she wants,” she says in a flat voice.
“But her going on a reality dating show means there will be many men falling in love with her. Good for her, if that’s what she wants.
But unfortunately for you, you’re going to have to watch that all play out.
You’re going to have to watch her fall in love with one of them. Maybe more. And that’s going to hurt.”
This is exactly what Hettie said.
I know there’s always been that possibility—that Lyra will fall in love with someone else—but the blunt way Abigail talks about it, like it’s a done deal, hits harder than I expect.
“I don’t want to see you get hurt.” She sounds so sad, like it’s already happened.
“I won’t be hurt. Why would I?” There are reasons, none of which I’m about to list for Abigail, or even myself.
Deny, deny, deny. It works for a lot of things.
“You really think that? What do you honestly think about Lyra going on the show?” Abigail asks.
“I don’t know,” I admit because it’s the truth. Since Odin called, I haven’t let myself process the fact that Lyra…
I swallow painfully. Still don’t want to process, especially in front of Abigail.
Abigail is my girlfriend. She’s the person I want to be with.
Our names sound right together when we enter a store. We hang out with Hettie and Bo, and it’s fun. It’s comfortable with Abigail.
“You were quiet,” she persists. “You didn’t say anything. That’s not a good thing.”
“I can be quiet.”
“That’s not what I mean. The way I look at it, you can deal with it in a few ways.
” She finally glances over her shoulder at me, like she’s asking for permission to continue.
I usually like hearing Abigail’s theories, so I motion for her to go ahead.
She holds up a finger. “You can make a big deal about it, which means that you have a problem with it.”
She pauses, so I think she wants my thoughts. “I—”
But she doesn’t let me finish. “And that would mean that it’s obvious you have feelings for her.
” She holds up a second finger. “Or you can be so non-committal that I have to believe it means nothing to you, other than your best friend’s sister doing something you don’t agree with.
” She looks pointedly at me, but I’m afraid to say anything.
Abigail smiles sadly. “Or you can be quiet, which means I have no idea what you’re thinking. And maybe you don’t either.”
“There’s nothing between me and Lyra,” I say after a pause. Is it too long of a pause? Does that mean something?
“Is that by choice?” Abigail asks gently. “Or because you’ve never had the opportunity? Because, Spence, this would be a great opportunity.”
“What? How? Why?” The questions bubble and I’m so shocked that none of them are making sense. “What are you trying to tell me?”
“I’m not telling you anything. I want you to tell me you don’t care about Lyra dating twenty-five men and possibly falling in love with them.
I want you to tell me that if Lyra fell in love on that show, that you would only wish her the best. That you wouldn’t regret not taking a chance with her for the rest of your life. ”
I pause and it feels like this one really does go on forever. I open and shut my mouth a few times before I can find the words.
“I can’t tell you that,” I finally admit.
From the expression on Abigail’s face, I don’t think they are the right words.
“Would you have ever admitted it to me? Or just let me go on thinking I was the one you really wanted to be with?” She turns to me and I have to face her. Face this.
And by the way Abigail lifts her chin, and the lack of surprise on her face, she knows. She’s always known.
Everyone has always known what I’ve never admitted to myself.
The photo evidence of the men passing through Lyra’s life, is bad enough. Lyra being the Suitorette is like an open invitation that she has given up on all of these other men.
Given up on me.
If Lyra was to fall in love with any of them, that would be its own form of torture.
I would get over it. I would deal. But Abigail is right—I would never forgive myself for not taking a chance to see what we could be together.
“I don’t know…” I don’t know what you’re talking about, is what I should say. The words are forming in my head, moving to my mouth. Of course I’m not in love with Princess Lyra. I’m in love with you.
That’s what I should say.
But it’s not what comes out.
“I don’t know if I’m in love with her,” I confess, keeping my gaze out on a point at the horizon. How many kilometers away is Saint Pierre? I may not have spoken to the king, but I did look up Lyra’s itinerary and that’s where she is.
She should have arrived in Saint Pierre by now.
“Or you.”
Abigail sucks in her breath but when I finally turn to her, there’s no sign of surprise on her face.
“I’m sorry.” I take Abigail’s hand and she lets me. I want to pull it to my chest, to take back those words, but I can’t.
There is love between me and Abigail, and there are years of friendship and she deserves the truth.
“I wanted to be in love with you so much,” I tell her. “And I tried. I really did, because we’re so good together. It’s so easy with you.”
“That’s not why you stay with someone,” she says drily but still lets me keep her hand.
“I do love you—”
“But Lyra gets in the way,” she finishes. “It’s my own fault. I’ve always known you have this weird co-dependent relationship with her.”
“Co-dependent?”
She gives me a small smile. “I like to believe that’s what it is. It makes me feel better.”
“Abigail…”
“I know you’re in love with her, Spence. You have been since you were a kid. I just hoped our history could have beat it out of you.”
I laugh awkwardly. “That doesn’t sound pleasant.”
“Neither does hearing you admitting you’re in love with her.”
“I didn’t admit it,” I point out. “I don’t know if I’m in love with her.”
“But you are something.” She finally pulls her hand away from mine. “And you’re not in love with me.”
“Abigail…”
“Please.” She puts up her hand. “You love me—I know that. But as friends. I’m someone you care about. But you’re not in love with me. There’s a difference, you know.”
Oh, I know. It’s not the first time I’ve been accused of being a horrible boyfriend.
“I don’t know what to say,” I say helplessly.
“Well, you better figure it out. Because if I’m letting you go so you can find out once and for all exactly what is between you and Lyra, you better start planning.
We’re talking open and honest and grand gestures.
And you need to tell me about it. Because I want you to be happy, Spence. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
I pull her into my arms, wanting to offer some comfort.
Or maybe it’s me who needs the hug. “I don’t deserve you,” I say into her hair.
Abigail tightens her arms around my waist. “No. You don’t. But I’m giving up a lot, so don’t mess this up.”