17. 17

17

Hettie

S pencer escorts us to breakfast before he leaves for his office in town. I’m not sure if he lives in the castle or just stayed the night. And if he just stayed the night, exactly where he stayed.

Abigail certainly seems to be in a good mood this morning, but I don’t ask for details. If there’s something between her and Spencer—something more than the crush she confessed to him last night—then I will have to factor that in any decision I make about the future.

After we eat—after Tema inhales possibly more food than she’s ever eaten at one time, because she insists on sampling everything in the dining room, including a tiny sip of Abigail’s coffee—we go back to our room.

I want Tema to take some time to finish a few of the math activities that her teacher sent with her. She’s on March break, but I wasn’t sure how long we would be away. Tema loves school, loves her teacher, and homework has always proven to be a great way to keep her busy.

Especially while we’re in the castle and I’m not sure what we’re allowed to do or where we’re allowed to go. And I don’t want to leave this morning because Bo is talking to his father and I want to be around when he’s finished .

Tema is at the table, the scratch of her pencil and her muttered comments loud in the quiet room, and I sit on the couch in front of the roaring fire. “It’s a good room to have,” Abigail surmises, flopping down beside me. “Spence said this is where Lady Camille stayed before she married Odin.”

“It seems kind of surreal that I’m in the same room that a princess stayed in.”

“It shouldn’t be surreal at all,” Abigail gives me a knowing look.

Yes, I am the mother of a princess now—or at least I assume Tema will be given a royal title, given how taken Bo seems to be with her—but I don’t want to talk about that now because at this very moment, Bo is telling his father all about what we did eight years ago, and what I did nine months later. Abigail was supposed to distract me, which she is not doing well with her knowing looks.

I’d be better off finishing the bottle of wine Spencer left last night. Wouldn’t that make it all better, me showing up to a meeting with the king with wine on my breath?

Will I even be meeting the king?

“Is Camille a princess? Because Odin isn’t a prince anymore,” I wonder. “Or still is a prince, but just can’t be king?”

“I have no idea about the succession laws of Laandia, but you should.” There’s another of those looks.

“I’ll find out soon enough,” I say weakly.

Abigail drops her voice. “What do you think will happen?”

I glance at Tema at the table. She observes more than I can ever imagine, but at least second grade subtraction seems to be distracting her from our conversation. “I have no idea,” I whisper.

“What do you want to happen? ”

Abigail knows me better than anyone. I should be asking her what I want to happen because she’ll have an opinion and a pretty good idea of where my head is at.

The problem is that my head and my heart may not want the same thing.

“I don’t know that either.” I rest my head on the back of the couch. “Did I totally mess things up by coming back?”

“I think you should define mess.”

That’s a good idea. Did I mess up my perfectly happy life in Victoria by coming here? I don’t miss Timothy as much as I should, so what does that say about our relationship? And what have I done to Bo? I kept a child from him. Not only that, but I’m forcing him to deal with the guilt that he’s held on to about his mother’s death.

I’m forcing him to deal with me and what I want for the future. It’s not fair if I haven’t even figured it out yet.

“Last night was fun,” Abigail says when it’s obvious I’m too deep in my thoughts to respond. “It was good to see Spencer, to hang out with him and Bo again.”

This is as good a distraction as second grade subtraction. “Why did you and he never hook up back in high school?” I wonder, tucking a cushion into my lap.

“Who said we didn’t?”

My jaw drops. “Abigail! Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“There wasn’t much to tell.” She holds up three fingers. “The first time was during one of your breakups, and we met to try and figure out how to get you two back together. Second, was graduation—”

“When we crashed at Spencer’s dad’s place? ”

“When he had a place. Spence says he lives here full time.”

“Do not change the subject! When was the third?”

“The day after your wedding.”

I think I would react differently if Tema wasn’t at the table. If she weren’t here, I would jump to my feet and demand to know about every single moment the two of them shared, moments that I had no clue happened. I tell Abigail every detail, whether or not she wants to hear it. How could I not know any of this?

But because Tema is there and moments might constitute something other than a G rating, I keep my lips pressed shut so my mouth doesn’t flop open like a fish.

“How did I not know this? Three times?”

“What’s three times?” Tema calls.

“I can’t wait until you learn your three times tables,” I manage. Motherhood has definitely made me more quick-witted.

“Why didn’t you ever get together for real?” I hiss.

Abigail lowers her voice as well. “Because Spencer has been in love with Princess Lyra almost as long as you’ve been in love with Bo,” she says ruefully. “Everyone knows. It’s obvious.”

“Ah. That.” She does have a point. Bo never liked to talk about the connection between his best friend and his sister, but it was there for all to see. “I’m sorry, Abs.”

“Oh, so am I. I thought maybe the third time was the charm, but then—” She cuts off abruptly.

“Then I left and you came with me,” I finish sadly. “Why didn’t you stay? And give it a try with him?”

“It was never an option,” she says simply. “You’re my ride or die, Het. Always have been. ”

“But Spencer…”

Abigail smiles but I can see the touch of sadness in her eyes. She’s given up so much for me, and for what? “There was no choice. I will always pick your friendship.”

“I wish I’d known. I wouldn’t have let you come.”

“Like I would ever pick a man over you! And I wouldn’t have wanted anything different. I’ve been really happy in Victoria,” she assures me. “I like our life there.”

“So do I, but…”

“But this is home.”

And the way Abigail says it, I know it’s true for both of us. British Columbia may be beautiful, and living in Canada has been great, but Laandia is our home, whether we want it to be or not.

“I never thought I’d miss it,” I admit. “Leaving was so easy—well, not leaving Bo, but the rest of it. Leaving my family—”

“You are not your family,” she says sternly, just like every other time she’s told me that.

“I know, but it’s hard…”

“And anyone who knows you would never include you in their judgement of them. Which no one should do anyway.”

“But people do.”

“People do,” she says with resignation. “And that’s not fair to you.”

We share a look of sadness. Abigail has witnessed first-hand what the people of Laandia think about my family. About me. And about her too—being my best friend has tarred Abigail with the same brush at times.

It’s not fair. None of this is fair.

“Have you talked to Timothy?” she asks to change the subject .

“Last night.” I wave my phone at her. “He says he’s giving me space, but there’s not a lot of texts from him. And he hasn’t sent anything today. He doesn’t say anything, but I don’t think he’s happy that Bo wants us to stay here.”

Abigail snorts. “Not surprising.”

There’s something in her tone, something I’ve heard but never wanted to ask about. “Do you… do you even like Timothy?” It’s something I’ve been wanting to ask her for a while, but it seemed too awkward in Victoria. Here, with the distance between me and the man I love—

Is Timothy the man I love?

“Of course I like him,” Abigail says quickly. Too quickly. “He’s kind and decent, and he’ll make a great father figure for Tema. There’s nothing not to like about Timothy.”

“But…”

“But…” She chews on her lip and I know there’s more.

“Be honest,” I remind her. “That’s what we do. Except for you keeping Spencer a secret from me.”

“There was nothing to tell,” she protests. “And yes, I like Timothy—but honestly, Het, I don’t much like you when you’re with him.”

“Oh.” I stare into the fire, because what do you say when you’re best friend tells you something like that?

“It’s nothing big,” she assures me, grabbing my hand. “And I still love you. It’s not like you turn into a mean person when you’re with him, but you’re not… There’s something missing. You’re not you. You’re some version that you think is what Timothy wants. Have you ever really told him what you want? ”

“I don’t know what I want,” I say helplessly. “I want a good life for Tema. I want my brothers to stay out of jail. I want Mabel to be happy.”

“None of those are for you. What do you really want, Hettie?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do. You’re just scared to admit it.” She looks at me pointedly. “You left because you thought it would be easier on Bo. I know you never wanted to.”

“I didn’t,” I admit in a low voice.

“You have to stop making decisions based on what other people think. We want you to be happy, but you have to figure out what you want first.”

Is she right?

“And Tema will be fine, regardless of what you decide—Timothy or Bo? Or—neither.”

“I don’t think there’s a Timothy or Bo decision to be made,” I protest.

Abigail cocks her head and stares at me. “C’mon, Het. It’s Bo . Are you trying to tell me you’re not falling for him again?”

I think long and hard about her question, trying to do what she said, and think about what I want.

What I’ve always wanted.

“I don’t know if I ever stopped,” I finally confess.

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