The Royals Upstairs

Chapter Eighteen

Eighteen

LAILA

I wake up to knocking at my door. I’m still under the covers, wondering for a moment where I am, then throw them back, squinting at the window where gray light comes in through the bottom of the curtains. Did I sleep in?

The knocking continues. Sounds more like pounding from tiny fists, halfway down the door. I grab my phone and peer at the time. I slept in a little but not that much.

“Bjorn,” I hear Ella’s hushed and annoyed voice on the other side of the door, and the knocking stops. Oh boy. Kid woke up full of beans.

I sigh and decide to get out of bed anyway. Even though everyone usually sleeps in here, I should be getting up earlier. It’s funny, just a week away in Todalen and my body has already adjusted to that schedule. In fact, it adjusted to that schedule a little too well. Sex, crying, sex, hiking, sex, drinking, sex…on repeat.

I go to the sink and splash water on my face, hoping that will wake me up and stop my daydreaming. But I can’t help it.

Even though last week was the hardest time of my life—saying goodbye to my grandmother like that—it was also the happiest time of my life. It’s so odd to feel that way, so wrong , and the guilt is strong. I want to just drown in my grief because it really is the most overpowering thing, like it’s changing every single molecule in my body.

But that’s not the only change that’s happening to me. While the sorrow rewrites me, something else is setting another course.

I think I’m falling in love with James.

How can I grieve the loss of the greatest and closest person to me, the one who has been there since the day I was born, while falling in love with him? How does the heart hold that kind of space? How can two opposites exist inside each other like this? Many times over I’ve heard that grief is love, that we grieve because we have all this love and nowhere for it to go. And yet that doesn’t seem to encompass what grief is. It is love, but it’s also fathomless pain. It’s a complex, nebulous thing that makes a home in your chest, and it stays there, letting itself be known every waking second of every day. The loss cuts you so deep that the grief is rooted in the wound.

But then there’s love. And that too has roots. That too slowly takes over your life until it also wants to be known every second of every day. Grief and love; sorrow and hope. They’re both turning my world upside down.

I exhale heavily, patting my face dry with a towel and slathering on moisturizer, my skin flaky from the cold. All I know is that everything is so damn complicated right now.

That’s your own fault for having sex with him again , I tell myself in the mirror.

And again and again. My god, it was like the moment I had James’s body on top of mine, the moment he was inside me, the moment he was drowning me in pleasure, I became addicted to him. I know it’s a cliché thing to say, but it’s true. It was like, for once, I felt myself just giving all my fears and insecurities away. I was letting the walls down and letting him in. Maybe not all the way, but enough to let me feel. To feel what it’s like if I just exhale around him.

The ridiculous part of all this is that I’ve been here before. I’ve fallen for him before.

I brush my teeth slowly, feeling the emotions creep up through me again. The tears come, and I let them. I’m learning not to push the sadness away. I did that as a child, and it only fucked me up.

I cry for a few moments, ugly sobs that I keep quiet, and then it’s over and I feel drained, like I could crawl back into bed. I know Ella and Magnus have been giving me sympathetic looks and winces since I got back. They told me I can have time off, but I just want to get back to work. Thank god my job doesn’t involve anything like writing or important administrative work, because the brain fog is no joke. Half the time I have a hard time remembering my name.

When I glance back in the mirror, my eyes are red, puffy, full of deep sadness, and there are new fine lines around my mouth and eyes. Great. So grief ages you too. Thanks, Grandma.

I reapply my moisturizer, put on some heavy concealer and mascara, then get dressed. Bjorn is up and at them, and I’m sure Ella needs the help.

I step outside my room, hearing Bjorn in the kitchen, with Ella talking to him in hushed tones, the smell of coffee and baked goods wafting out. I poke my head around the door.

“I’m so sorry,” Ella says when she sees me, sitting at the table with a cup of coffee and looking as tired as I feel. “I didn’t mean for him to wake you.”

“It’s okay,” I say, watching Bjorn happily eating a banana.

“I made the mistake of telling the boys last night that today you would finally take them to the Fram Museum, and Bjorn barely slept at all.”

“You wanted me to take them today?” I ask.

She frowns unhappily. “Oh, I’m sorry. I should have consulted with you first. It’s just that I promised them at Christmas we would go, and they’ve been asking ever since. I have some work for my environmental society to do all week long, to prepare for the unveiling of the new boat we got, otherwise I would go with you.”

I raise my hand. “Honestly I would be happy to take them.” I give Bjorn a smile. “When I was little, all I wanted to do was come down to Oslo and go to the museum.”

“You never went?” he asks between mouthfuls of banana.

“I couldn’t. It was just my grandmother taking care of me, and Oslo was so far.” And my own parents never took me anywhere. I never got to do anything fun like go to amusement parks or visit museums or toboggan hills or take pony rides, the stuff that all the kids I went to school with would do. Once my childhood friend Sinova took me along with her family to a play center in Trondheim out of pity, and she avoided me after that.

“Well, it has that new exhibition,” Ella explains. “With the boat inside the museum, all interactive.”

“Polar bears!” Bjorn roars, making claws with his hands.

Ella laughs. “And yes, polar bears. It looks amazing. We just haven’t gone yet.”

“First time for everyone, then,” I say, making my way over to the kettle to put it on for my instant coffee. I’ve wanted to see the new exhibition too. I heard you can explore all the parts of the old ship to see what a polar vessel was like back in the day. It will at least be a welcome distraction.

“Of course James will go with you,” Ella adds.

I freeze for a moment, then grab my coffee mug. “Does he know that?”

“He will,” she says, sounding pleased.

I force myself to play it cool. Since we’ve been back from Todalen, we haven’t quite been avoiding each other, but there’s this unspoken agreement—I think—that what happened there can’t happen here. I mean, it just can’t. We can’t do the Fairfaxes sneaking-around thing all over again.

It’s just damn hard.

When James eventually gets up, he looks surprised to hear his job for the day. Surprised and a little excited, if I’m being honest. I don’t blame him. Since he took on the role as Ella and the kids’ PPO, he’s been with Magnus most of the time, since neither Ella nor the kids go out very much. There was the trip to the kikut, of course, then our visit to the church in Oslo for the Christmas Eve procession (which was with the rest of the royal family as well, and I finally met the king, queen, and all his sisters, save for one who is in Spain; they’re all lovely, although the king seems quite frail). That went fine, and even Bjorn was on his best behavior.

But this would be the first outing with just James and me. I have no idea how the kids are going to be. Tor is calm now, but he might cry the whole time (let’s be honest, I might too), and Bjorn, well…no comment.

While James and I are in the hall putting on our coats and scarves, our eyes meet above Ella’s head as she’s crouching down and dressing the boys. He raises his brows as if to say, This is going to be interesting .

I give him the same look in return, hoping I don’t look like a lovesick sap since there are a few butterflies loose in my chest.

We go outside, Ottar tasked with driving us, and pile into the car. Ottar talks on and on about the museum’s history, better than any tour, I’m sure, and it only gets the kids more excited.

I have to admit, it feels like a family outing. As if James and I are the parents and Bjorn and Tor are our children, and our friend is dropping us off. It’s a nice feeling. Don’t get me wrong, not nice enough for me to suddenly want kids, but it’s comforting all the same.

The museum is just outside the city center, and by the time Ottar pulls up, the kids are raring to go. Ottar tells us he’ll be in the city and can come get us at any time, so we get out of the car and I take both of the kids’ hands while James effortlessly steps into bodyguard duty.

“How do we do this?” I whisper to James as Ottar drives off. To be honest, during the Christmas event, there were so many PPOs swarming around the church it was hard to keep track.

“I’ll stay behind you,” he says in a low voice, and damn if that isn’t a turn-on the way he says it. “That way I can spot any potential threats.”

My blood runs cold at that. I know it’s his job to protect the boys—and me, I guess—but it’s hard to imagine how anyone would want to hurt them.

“Don’t worry,” he adds. “We’re here to have fun. Right, boys?”

“Yeah!” Bjorn yelps, pulling away to run toward the building. My grip is strong, though, and I hold him back. This isn’t going to be easy.

We enter the museum, which is this gigantic A-frame building, and we’re automatically immersed in the experience, even while we’re at the cashier. I pay for our tickets, and the museum worker seems to recognize the boys, but she doesn’t say much. She also seems to recognize James and can’t stop giving him shy glances. She’s gotta be sixteen or something, so it’s pretty cute.

It’s a Saturday, so the place is packed with kids and tourists alike. With the weather being unseasonably cold lately, and with huge dumps of snow, wandering inside the museum seems like a nice, warm way to spend the day.

But also, chaotic as hell, and we’re only adding to the chaos.

“I hate crowds,” I grumble under my breath as we walk over to the ship.

“Me too,” James says, even though he must be so used to them with his job.

The middle of the museum is this three- or four-story space where a giant polar ship, the Fram , sits. It is huge, taking up the entire length and height of the museum. On all sides of it are more exhibitions, such as ice caves and igloos, and realistic polar bear and seal statues, all showcasing what it was like to travel through the Arctic back in the day. At the very top of the building, above the deck of the ship, is a huge wraparound screen that mimics the waves and the weather, so when you’re on the top deck of the ship you can pretend you’re out in the Arctic Ocean.

“Oh, I want to go up on the top deck,” I say, not meaning to say it out loud.

“Look at you,” James says in a low voice from behind me. “You’re loving this.”

I am. I suddenly wish I didn’t have the kids with me so I could explore the whole museum on my own, pretend to be a kid again myself. But being the nanny, and also an adult, I have to live it through Bjorn’s and Tor’s eyes.

And Bjorn wants to see the polar bears and go through the ice.

And Tor very much does not want to see any bears.

“Nooooo!” he screeches as Bjorn tries to pull us in that direction.

“Bjorn,” I warn him, pulling him back. “Your brother doesn’t want to see the bears right now.”

“But I do! He can stay with James.”

“That’s not how this works,” I tell him. “There’s only me here taking care of you. We have to compromise.”

From the look on Bjorn’s face, I don’t think he’s ever compromised before.

I sigh. “Look. We will go through the ice caves, and you can take a quick peek at the bears.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” James says, looking out for Tor.

I glance at him over my shoulder. His jaw is firm, eyes sharp, posture straighter than it’s ever been. It takes a lot to keep from swooning. What an inappropriate time to want to jump someone.

“We’ll see how it goes,” I tell him quietly. I just want to calm Bjorn and Tor down for now.

So we head off toward the sides of the museum where the interactive exhibitions are, going up the steps to the first floor and marveling at the ship as we walk down the length. I also want to read about the history in each exhibit along the wall, but Bjorn is so headstrong I don’t have the time.

“Don’t you want to go on the top deck?” I ask him, but he won’t have it. He pouts and shakes his head vigorously, and I know this usually leads to a meltdown. He knows this too.

“I want to go on the boat,” Tor says in a small voice.

Finally I have to put my foot down. I stop, James nearly running into the back of me, and pull Bjorn toward me, putting my hands on his shoulders. “Bjorn, wait. We can’t only do what you want to do. We will see the bears, but the rest of us, myself included, would like to go on the top deck and go through the boat.”

He’s not looking me in the eye, and his face is going red, but he nods.

Phew.

We walk up another flight of stairs until we can access the top deck of the ship, just as ominous music fills the air. We step on board, the lights dim, and the screen that takes up the top of the building comes to life with images of glaciers.

It’s crowded on the deck of the ship, but we manage to find a bench to sit on to watch the show. Bjorn keeps getting up, unable to sit still, so I let him fidget around me, while Tor is entranced. James isn’t watching the screen, but he is watching around us, always on alert.

Then the museum gets dark, and the waves start to build until it feels like we’re in the middle of a storm. It is a bit intense, so Tor starts to cry, just as a group of tourists straight off a tour bus gathers around us, speaking loudly in a foreign language.

“Okay, let’s go,” I tell Tor, getting to my feet. But when I go to grab Bjorn’s hand, he’s not there.

Oh my god.

“Bjorn!” I yell, which makes James flip around, his focus having been on the push of the crowd.

“Where did he go?” James says.

“I don’t know, I had him right here.” Wasn’t I holding his hand? But then Tor started crying and I just kind of forgot. This fucking brain of mine.

And now Bjorn’s gone.

I pick up Tor and start calling for him, but the tourists are everywhere and I can’t see him.

James is fast, though. He’s parting the crowd, eyes like a hawk searching every inch, and then he suddenly starts running off the ship.

Oh my god. Oh my god, Bjorn has been taken. Someone took him, stole him. I’ll never see him again. I’m responsible.

Now I’m crying along with Tor. I can’t help it.

I watch as James runs along the edge of the third floor, away from the exit, and that’s when I see him.

Bjorn.

He’s attempting to climb on top of the taxidermy polar bears that are posed at the end of the museum, on a ledge a few feet off the ground. James appears just in time, snatching Bjorn up before he reaches for the bear to pull himself up. Had Bjorn actually climbed up, the chances of him falling would have been high.

I breathe out the biggest sigh of relief, but my heart is still thundering in my chest and I feel sick.

I manage to work my way through the tourists—no one paying me much attention, thank god—and reach James, who has Bjorn in his arms…Bjorn, who is kicking and screaming and calling so much attention to himself. That’s when I notice a few people taking pictures or video, and I am so scared that someone actually got a photo of Bjorn climbing up on the polar bear. Oh my god, I’m going to get fired.

“I think it’s time to go,” James says.

I don’t even feel disappointed about not seeing much of the museum. We need to go right away, get far from prying eyes, and figure out what the hell happened.

I nod, and James doesn’t let go of Bjorn or pass him to me. He just carries him out while pulling his phone out of his pocket and calling Ottar.

“He’ll be right here,” he tells me as we step outside the building.

It’s starting to snow lightly, but I don’t want to wait inside for the car. I know that people are starting to talk, and soon they’ll start hounding us for pictures and the paparazzi will arrive.

I must be going into dissociative shock because James says gently, “Hey. It’s okay.”

I blink at him just as the car pulls up.

“What happened?” Ottar asks, coming around and looking concerned and out of breath. “You sounded serious.”

“I wanted to see the bears!” Bjorn yells through angry tears as we shuffle him into the car. “They wouldn’t let me, so I went on my own!”

Ottar gives us a look like, Oh boy .

That’s an understatement.

···

When we get back to the estate, we have to explain the whole thing to Magnus and Ella. We all sit down in the living room, and James takes the lead. I’m so grateful for that; all I can do is feel awful inside, shrinking smaller and smaller inside myself, wringing my hands together.

“So how did this happen?” Magnus says, looking strikingly serious.

Not that I blame him. I can’t imagine how it must feel for him and Ella to think that their child could end up the subject of tabloid news.

“I messed up,” James says.

“No,” I interject. “You didn’t. I messed up.”

“Laila,” he warns. “I’m the PPO. My job is to have eyes on the boys at all times.” He looks at Magnus. “Please forgive me. I didn’t happen to have my eyes on him in that moment. I won’t make any excuses.”

“I will!” I say, looking at Magnus and Ella imploringly. “My head…I’ve been so out of it with this brain fog, and Bjorn…he really wanted to see the polar bears, but Tor didn’t want to, so I wanted him to compromise by getting us to go on the deck of the ship. We sat down to watch the screens, but Bjorn was so restless, he couldn’t sit still. Then the storm part came and Tor got scared, just as all these tourists came from out of nowhere, crowding around us. I guess I was caught up in calming Tor—when I looked up, Bjorn was gone.”

“I should have been watching him,” James says with his chin raised. “It’s on me. I was scanning the tourists for a threat instead.”

“Which is your job, you know,” Magnus says. “Your job is to protect Ella, Laila, and the boys. Not to watch them. It’s not your job; that’s Laila’s job.”

Oh fuck.

“And, Laila,” Magnus says, his eyes kind, voice becoming gentler. “I know you. I know you love these boys, and I know they are hard to handle. Very hard sometimes. Mistakes happen. Don’t beat yourself up over it. The issue isn’t so much that you weren’t paying full attention, and in your current state I can’t blame you at all. It’s that…” He sighs, running his hand over his face and looking to Bjorn. “Bjornsy. Why did you do that?”

“I wanted to see the bears,” he says, crossing his arms in a huff.

“But not everything is about what you want,” Magnus explains.

“Yes it is. I’m a prince,” he says.

“Oh, there it is,” Ella says with a sigh, sitting back on the couch. “I knew this day would come.”

Magnus gets up and kneels in front of Bjorn. “I’m a prince too, Bjorn. But I still have to follow the rules. I still have to listen to people. I used to be like you, you know. I did what I wanted, all the time, not caring. And in the end all it did was hurt people. And when I realized that I hurt people, that ended up hurting me. I had to change. Look, I know it’s busy up in that brain of yours.” He reaches out and gently taps Bjorn’s temple. “It’s the same up in mine. I know you have a million thoughts going on at once that never turn off. I know it channels itself into this endless energy that makes you itch, you know? Like all over your body from the inside out, and that you want to run around and scream because it’s the only way to let it out.”

Bjorn stares at him, shifting back and forth in his seat. “You feel that way too?”

Magnus nods. “I used to feel it more. When I was your age. It changes as you get older, but the thoughts? Those stay the same. Look, son, we don’t blame you for doing things that are wrong sometimes. We aren’t mad at you. But what you did today…it was very dangerous. You could have hurt yourself, or even worse. And, Laila, she cares about you very much and only wants what’s best for you, and you frightened her half to death. Same goes for James. For Tor. And same goes for me and your mother.”

Bjorn nods. “I’m sorry,” he says, staring down at his feet that are swinging against the couch.

“I am too,” Magnus says, kissing the top of his forehead. He gets up and looks at me. “Laila, you’ve done an amazing job. But I’m ordering you to take the rest of the day off and get some rest.”

I shake my head. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not, and that’s okay,” he says. “I’m not trying to punish you. You’re like family to me now, and therefore I just want you well. Okay?”

I nod, feeling I don’t have much choice.

But even though I retire to my room while Magnus and Ella take care of the kids, it feels wrong to be alone. My thoughts are so jumbled over the scare at the museum, over my feelings for James, over the loss of my grandmother, that I have a hard time sitting still with them.

This must be what it’s like in Bjorn’s and Magnus’s brains , I think. The constant chatter, the thoughts that won’t stop bouncing, the need to move and make it go away.

So I put down the book that I spent twenty minutes trying to read and get up, heading back down the hall. I hear the kids and Ella in the playroom and pause in the doorway.

“Is everything okay?” Ella asks as she tries to make a puzzle of a woodland scene while Bjorn races a car into whatever Tor is building with blocks.

I nod. “Yes. I’m fine. Just turns out I don’t take orders very well. Do you mind if I…?” I gesture to the room.

“Of course not,” Ella says, patting the floor beside her. “You can help me finish this puzzle before Bjorn destroys it.”

I sit down and help Ella, and it’s not long before Bjorn runs his toy car over the puzzle. To be fair, he was saying, “Beep beep, beep beep,” for a good minute before the collision.

After that I tell Ella I’m fine to take care of the kids, and I end up in there with them for most of the night, building a fort in the corner with sheets and pillows.

“Laila,” Bjorn says to me as the three of us sit in the fort, finding a moment of calm.

“Yes, Bjorn?”

He looks at me with his big eyes. “Are you mad at me?”

The sincerity in his voice breaks my heart. “What? No, sweetie. Not even a little.”

He looks down at his paint-stained hands. “You sounded so mad at me.”

“Only worried,” I tell him. “Sometimes it sounds the same because our emotions are heightened and get the best of us. But it all comes from a place of love.”

He nods at that, worrying his lip between his teeth. “I’m going to try to be good,” he says after a moment, announcing it like a New Year’s resolution.

I have doubts it will last long, but I still tell him I appreciate it.

“Bjorn, Tor, come here, please,” Magnus’s voice rings out through the house. Bjorn gives me a worried look, like he’s still in trouble, and he and Tor scramble out of the fort, running out of the room.

I sigh and lean back against one of the cushions, the top of the fort sagging toward the middle, just as I see a pair of legs standing outside the entrance.

“Permission to enter the fort,” James says in his serious bodyguard voice, and a second later I see his face as he bends down.

I raise my brow. “Are we talking this actual fort, or is this sexual innuendo?”

“Both,” he says, getting down on his knees and crawling inside. His hulking frame barely fits, and his head snags the sagging sheet ceiling, causing it to collapse.

“Oh no,” he says dryly as he sits beside me, the sheet falling between our faces. “It’s a cave-in.”

He goes to lift up the sheet, but I reach out and grab it, keeping it in place.

“I think it’s best I don’t see your face,” I tell him.

“Ouch.”

“I’m feeling a little emotionally vulnerable,” I admit against my better judgment. I drop my hand, and James continues to raise the sheet, holding it up so he can look at me.

He’s too handsome for his own good and far too close to me in a setting that’s a little too private.

“You’re right,” he says, swallowing thickly as his eyes get that heavy-lidded, lustful look. “It was easier when I couldn’t see you.”

Then he leans in and cups my face in his hands and kisses me.

I let out a soft whine, a startled noise, my mouth opening to his for just a moment, one sweet moment where his tongue slides against mine, and I’m ready to throw it all away again, the sheet falling down on our heads. If anyone were to come in here there would be no doubt what we were doing.

I break off before we get carried away, placing my hand on his chest to keep him back. I can feel the quick beat of his heart under my palm.

“I’m having a bloody awful time trying to stay away from you,” he says, but I keep my hand pressed on his hard chest.

“Me too,” I admit quietly. “Whose silly idea was it to leave all the sex behind in Todalen?”

“Your silly idea,” he says, taking my hand in his and raising it to his lips. “But feel free to negate it at any time.”

I give him a quick smile and take my hand back, putting distance between us. “I think we should probably vacate the fort.”

He sighs and looks around. “Are you sure? There’s something comforting about this. Maybe it’s because I didn’t really get to do this as a wee lad, but I feel safe in here. Safer than I should, considering we’re sitting ducks.”

I agree with him. While sitting alone in my bedroom felt empty and cold, sitting in the fort felt comforting, like being sheltered by strong, warm arms, even before James came in.

But now that he’s here, that feeling of comfort skyrockets.

And that’s a dangerous thing.

He stares at me for a moment before he crawls back out, and I see the want and longing in his gaze, and I feel it too, because I want him the exact same way and I can’t have him.

I can only have stolen kisses and pretend that’s enough to sustain me.