24. 24
24
B o
F amily dinners are the one time we can all relax within the castle walls. It’s just family, no foreign leaders or celebrity friends. And now that we’ve opened it to include Edie and Stella, Gunnar’s girlfriend—who rushes in with Spencer just before the meal is served—it’s even a little more comfortable. There’s the usual teasing and roasting, but the competitiveness that inevitably comes when the four of us are together subsides. Unless, of course, Lyra is home, and then we all have to pay homage to her. She likes to think we’re all her minions.
Hettie seems to relax when Stella arrives. Stella is Duncan’s daughter and grew up with us until Duncan divorced her mother and moved into the castle full-time with Spencer. She’s only two years younger than Hettie, and the two of them, along with Abigail, spend most of dinner talking about people from high school.
That is when Abigail isn’t laughing with Spencer.
“I thought Spencer and Lyra—” I overhear Stella say to Gunnar.
“Spencer,” Gunnar corrects under his breath. “Never been sure about Lyra.”
“You don’t know that,” Edie says from beside me .
“No one knows anything about what Lyra thinks.” Kalle shakes his head.
“And whose fault is that?” Edie chides. “She’s your sister.”
My sister is the one topic Spencer and I have never talked about, mainly because she’s my sister and, as much as I love her, she’s high-maintenance. Plus, I’ve seen Spencer with Abigail, and I’ve always liked what I’ve seen. It’s easy with the two of them. Comfortable. And, selfishly, it works with Hettie and me.
When there was a Hettie and me.
Tema sits on the left side of Dad and basically holds court at the end of the table. She’s smart and quick and so funny. Polite, but speaks her mind, whatever might come into it. I’ve never really spent much time with children, and neither have my brothers, and all of us seem to watch the little girl with a sense of awe.
For me, there’s a new feeling of pride toward her, at how she gets Duncan Laz not only to talk about his time in the rock band Kraftiig, but to also give a demonstration of air guitar.
I thought Stella was going to spit wine all over the table when he did that.
Hettie asks Edie about her wedding plans. Stella grabs Tema’s attention when she tells her about her animal rescue in town, and the two plan a visit. Gunnar and I talk planes.
It’s like a normal family sharing a meal together.
No mention is made of the fact Hettie has been gone for eight years.
Not until the end of the meal.
The plates have been cleared and Kalle refills the wine glasses. Tema is wide awake and still has both Dad and Duncan completely under her spell. I like the way Hettie manages to keep watch over her as well as focus on the conversation.
“So, Hettie,” Kalle begins with a sideways glance at Odin. “Now that you’re back, what does that mean for the two of you?”
“That’s none of your business,” I jump in quickly.
“Oh, I think it is,” Kalle says mildly. “The whole monarchy thing makes it my business.”
“We’re not talking about it now. Or here.”
“When do you propose we talk about it then? When she disappears for another eight years, taking the third in line to the throne with her?”
“Kalle—” I growl, but Hettie holds up her hand.
“It’s okay, Bo. Kalle is right—we do need to have this conversation but I would appreciate doing so when my daughter isn’t within earshot. Her listening skills are very well developed, especially when the topic is something she shouldn’t be hearing.”
“What shouldn’t I hear?” Tema calls from her seat at the other end of the table.
“Fair enough,” Kalle has the grace to look mollified.
“And I do realize your responsibility to the throne, but I’d like Bo and me to be able to talk first, if that’s all right. All this has been rather sudden—”
“Eight years,” Gunnar coughs into his hand, and I glare at him. “Sorry, Hettie.”
“It’s complicated,” I say through gritted teeth. Yesterday, I told them what I know. There hasn’t been time for anything to have changed .
That’s not entirely true; what hasn’t changed is the fact that I still might be completely in love with Hettie Crow, only I’m determined not to mess it up like I did before.
“Kalle shouldn’t have said anything,” I say as I walk Hettie back to her room after dinner. Tema has Abigail by the hand and is skipping down the long hall.
I’ve never seen anyone skip in the castle. Not even when we were kids. We ran, wrestled, and raced. Not even Lyra skipped.
“He wasn’t wrong,” Hettie says. “We do need to talk about it.”
“About what, exactly?”
“What’s going to happen. The future? Tema’s future.”
“The fact you want a divorce,” I can’t help but add. “I didn’t think that was appropriate dinner conversation.”
Hettie doesn’t confirm or deny.
Abigail and Tema disappear into the room and I linger in the hall with Hettie. All my positive feelings about how perfectly Hettie fit in with my family, and how well Tema did at dinner, are overshadowed by one word.
Divorce.
We haven’t had much of a marriage to speak of, but still—part of me knew that Hettie was still mine. At least I hoped she was. If we are to make the split legal, that means she’s gone forever. Maybe not Tema, but Hettie.
The thought knots up my insides .
“Do you want to talk about it?” Hettie asks. Her lips press together and she looks… I’m not sure if it’s wishful thinking, or I’m transferring my thoughts on her, but Hettie looks sad.
“Not really,” I admit. “But yeah.”
“I have to give Tema a bath. If you don’t mind waiting—”
“Can I help?” Hettie looks surprised. “I mean, it’s not like I’ve ever given a kid a bath before, but I figure it’s something I need to know how to do, right?”
“Let’s give it a try then.”
Bathtime consists of filling the tub with a mountain of bubbles and letting Tema play in them. Hettie brought a collection of ducks and boats and a Slurpee cup she uses to rinse the shampoo from Tema’s hair.
“Always wash her hair first,” Hettie instructs. “And leave the conditioner on for a while because she’s got the worst tangles.”
“It’s not the worst. Abigail has curlier hair than I do unless she makes it straight,” Tema says, not looking up from her naval battle—boats against ducks.
Abigail went back to her room as soon as I stepped up to help with bathtime. Not that I do much to help. Hettie gives a play-by-play as she does things and I’m okay with that. Tema looks slippery and there’s a lot of bubbles. I wouldn’t want to deal with soap in the eyes.
But even though I sit on the toilet and watch, it’s surprisingly nice to be involved.
Hair care has been finished and Tema is still mid-battle when Hettie’s phone rings from the other room.
“That might be…” she stammers. “I need to check. ”
Him. It must be him. “Go take it. I’ve got this,” I tell her, trying for casual and coming up with mildly miserable.
“I can call him back,” she insists.
“Go take your call. How hard can this be?” I wink at Tema. “I know how to give myself a bath.”
Hettie bites her lip. “I’ll be right in the next room. Behave yourself, please,” she says to Tema.
“We’re good.” I wave her away. “Do you normally not behave?” I ask Tema, moving closer to bob one of the ducks on top of the bubbles. Every time it lands, bubbles fly everywhere, making Tema laugh.
“I always behave,” she announces.
“Do you always tell the truth?”
Tema grins. “Of course. Princesses always tell the truth.”
I’m not sure that’s always the case, but I’m not about to correct her. Not when I’ve got an opportunity right before me. “Do you know who your mom is talking to?” This time I nail the casual.
“Probably Timothy.” She makes motorboat sounds as she moves a boat over a mountain of bubbles, much like a fishing boat in the middle of the Atlantic.
I wonder how much bubble bath Hettie dumped in the water. Any time I’ve had a bubble bath, they’ve never lasted this long.
“This Timothy—what’s he like?” Part of me is straining to hear any of Hettie’s conversation, but she’s taken the call in the living room. I wonder what she’s telling him. Things about my family? Things about me?
“He makes waffles,” Tema reports.
“Like, for a living?”
“No, for supper. He can only make waffles. ”
“I can make more than waffles,” I can’t help but tell her.
“It’s not a competition,” she says with an expression older than her seven years.
“I know it’s not.”
“That’s what Mommy always says when I complain about something my friend Mikey can do that I can’t,” she explains. “She tells me all the things that I can do. You’re a prince. Timothy sells houses. There’s lots of things you can do that he can’t.”
I squint at Tema. “Are you sure you’re only seven? You’re not some small old person in a kid body?”
“No!” She laughs and scoops a handful of bubbles and blows it at me.
“I wouldn’t start that,” I warn her, taking my own handful of bubbles. “I’m very good in a bubble fight.”
“Not as good as me.” She leans out of the tub to smear bubbles on my beard.
“It’s not a competition,” I remind her with a laugh, dumping my handful on her head.
“It’s on ,” Tema cries.
I’ve never had so much fun playing in the bubbles. Of course, the bathroom is a disaster when Hettie comes back.
“What are you doing?” she demands.
I look at Tema and Tema looks at me. “Get her!” Tema throws the first handful of bubbles at Hettie and I’m quick to follow with a laugh that echoes around the bathroom.