Chapter Twenty-One
Twenty-One
JAMES
I fucked up.
I fucked up big-time .
I fucked up big-time before with Laila, but this time, this is such a monumentally huge fuckup that it’s blown past the boundaries of the solar system. I’m talking a fuckup of galactic proportions, one that I will take to my grave as my biggest regret.
“James?”
“Huh?” I turn to see Magnus staring at me quizzically. I guess I am standing in the hallway outside Laila’s room, just staring at her door like a fucking stalker. Since I fucked shit up last night, I’ve been trying to apologize for how I acted, but she won’t give me the time of day, and I can’t exactly grovel in public here with her. So I’ve been standing outside her door in hopes that I’ll catch her for a moment. It’s after dinner, and I know she’s in there with a book or perhaps sticking her pins in a Scotsman-shaped voodoo doll.
“You look rough, man,” Magnus says, slapping his hand on my back. “I mean it. You need to come with me.”
“Go with you where?” I ask, pivoting to watch him throw on his coat.
“Well, me and Einar. We’re taking you out. You haven’t had a night out in a long time.”
I give my head a shake. “I’m fine.”
“It’s an order, James,” Magnus says. “From the Crown Prince of Norway.”
I sigh and grab my coat. I hate it when he pulls that out. Frankly it’s no different from when Bjorn did the same after the fiasco at the ship museum (which, thankfully, didn’t result in any news articles about bad boy Bjorn).
Einar drives us into the city, and it’s no surprise where we end up—Harold’s, the dive bar that Magnus took me to before.
Einar enters the bar, and when he deems it secure, waves us in; meanwhile I’m watching behind us for any threats. But the street is dark and quiet, the sounds muffled by the falling snow, and with the way the temperature is, people aren’t walking around much. Yes, it’s even too cold for the locals.
I step inside the bar behind Magnus, and he immediately turns around and gives me a look. “You’re off duty. Stop that.”
“Stop what?”
“Being a bodyguard.”
“I am your bodyguard,” I tell him. I’ve been especially on edge ever since the attack.
“Not right now. You’re here tonight as a friend. And as a friend, I’m getting you drunk.”
“I told you, I don’t like to drink in public if—”
“I’ll fire you if you don’t do a shot with me.”
I stare at Magnus. His eyes are glinting, and it’s hard to tell if he’s serious or not. He very well could be, as unpredictable as he is.
“All right,” I concede under my breath.
He lets out a devilish laugh, and I definitely see how Bjorn is his son. “You made the right choice. Come on.”
We go over to the bar while Einar stands by the front door. Magnus says hello to the regulars, none of whose names I can remember, except for Slender Man, for obvious reasons.
Harold pours us both a shot of aquavit—not my first choice, but I down it to appease Magnus. Maybe he’ll just stop at one.
But that’s just wishful thinking. Because he orders another shot for both of us along with beers to take back to our booth in the corner.
“Okay, let’s try this again,” he says, raising his shot glass once we’ve sat down. “Let’s sk?l to you, James. To your happiness.”
I frown. “Okay…”
I lift my shot glass and clink it against his. The second time it goes down feels a lot better than the first, but I’m grateful for the beer as a chaser.
Except the beer happens to be dark as sin and strong as hell.
“Whoa,” I say after a sip. I’m used to the low-alcohol beers that you find in every grocery store. “Now that’s a beer.”
“I knew you’d appreciate it,” Magnus says.
Do I ever. I end up drinking the beer rather fast, and when I’m done, I’m pleased at how even-keeled I feel. Definitely on the way to drunk.
Magnus doesn’t hesitate in getting us another, and when I’m halfway through that one and feeling rather defenseless, he tilts his head and gives me an expectant look.
“So what happened with you and Laila?” he says, point-blank.
Even drunk, I know to keep my facial expressions controlled.
“What do you mean?” I ask carefully, though my pitch sounds funny.
“You know what I mean,” he says earnestly. From the way he’s staring at me, I’m not sure if he actually knows something or if he’s suspicious and trying to ensnare me into admitting it.
Fuck.
I open my mouth to speak, then decide to drink some more of my beer instead. Good ol’ beer, always saving the day when things get awkward.
“I know you’re sleeping together,” he says.
Oh fuck.
“What was that?” I ask, blinking, hoping he buys my look of shock and confusion.
Magnus gives me a tired sigh. “I said I know you’re sleeping together. You don’t have to play ignorant.”
I have two choices here. I could continue to deny this and call his bluff. Or I can admit it. If I admit it, I could be fired. In fact I most likely will be. I wasn’t hired to sleep with the nanny, and admitting that I’ve been with Laila means that he might look back on other instances, such as what happened in the ship museum, and think that I lost my nerve because I was distracted by Laila (which wasn’t the case).
Maybe you should be fired , a voice inside my head says. This voice doesn’t sound drunk at all. It sounds sober. Maybe you deserve it. Laila opened herself up to you, and you shut her down because you were scared. For the second time. Maybe you should admit what happened and give up your job because Laila deserves to be in that house, but you certainly do not, especially if you’re afraid your feelings for her complicate your job.
But if I admit it, that means Laila might get fired too.
Only one thing left to do.
“I think I should quit,” I tell Magnus.
His eyes bug out. “What?” he exclaims.
I hate it. I hate that I’m saying this, and maybe if I were sober there would be some other way, but I’m saying it anyway. “I quit. I quit the job. I shouldn’t be working for your family anymore.”
Magnus looks around, as if to check if anyone is listening, then looks back to me and shakes his head. “No. James. No. You aren’t quitting.”
“You can’t tell me what to do if I quit. You’re literally not the boss of me.”
Okay, now I sound like a bloody child.
“Then I think I’m allowed to know why you’re quitting,” he says. “You owe me that much.”
“I don’t think I’m a good fit,” I tell him. “I think…there’s someone better equipped for your family.”
He stares at me for a moment, then slowly shakes his head. “You’re really willing to let go of your job for her?” he asks in awe.
“What?”
He rolls his eyes to the ceiling. “James. You must think I’m an idiot. And I don’t blame you for thinking that because most of the time I am an idiot. I’m the first to admit it. But I did my due diligence when I hired you. Which meant I was very thorough in asking Eddie questions. And wouldn’t you like to know a surprising piece of info that Eddie told me?”
Oh no. Bloody hell.
“What?” I ask, the word barely audible.
“He told me that you had an affair with their nanny.”
Jesus Christ.
Eddie knew? He knew? !
Magnus continues, eyes dancing like he’s delighting in blowing my mind. “And that their nanny was of course Laila. So, naturally, I had to hire you.”
I do a hard blink. “What? That’s why you hired me?”
He lifts a shoulder in a half shrug. “Well, I knew that you were good at your job and that’s what really mattered. Eddie told me that you might not appreciate being out in the countryside, and that you really wouldn’t appreciate working with Laila again, but you see, I like a little chaos in my life, if you haven’t noticed. I thought it would be amusing. And it has been.”
Holy fuck.
“You’re sick in the head,” I tell him, half joking.
He grins at me. “I know that. And honestly, Eddie thought it was a brilliant idea too. I guess he thought you needed to grow up or something.”
“Grow up?!” I exclaim, fingers pressed into the table. A few people in the bar turn to look, then go back to their drinking.
“You don’t agree with that assessment?” he asks, taking a casual sip of beer.
My mouth opens, closes, and I’m hit with that sad realization that he’s right. I did need to grow up. And, obviously, I haven’t.
“So what happened with you and Laila?” he goes on. “Why did the both of you go from staring into each other’s eyes like Kate and Leo on the Titanic , to her telling you she’d never let go and pushing you off the floating door?”
“That’s quite the analogy.”
“I watched the movie last night. Anyway, did you break her heart again?”
Even though I deserve that and I know it’s true, my hackles go up. “What makes you think I did in the first place?”
“Just what Eddie told me. Well, Monica was more astute to that. Heartbreak is pretty obvious if you know what to look for.”
I look down at my beer, feeling a rush of shame.
“So you did,” Magnus muses. “May I ask what happened? Because Ella and I have a bet going on.”
“Ella knows?” Oh god, please don’t tell me that Lady Jane does too.
“She does. We talk about the two of you all the time. Lady Jane does as well, but that’s only because Laila confided in her.”
I run my hand down my face and make an anguished noise. “I can’t believe this.” How does everyone know? How is this possible? “What did Laila say to Lady Jane? Do you know?”
“Yeah, she said she was in love with you.”
The noise gets louder.
“Oh, bloody hell,” I cry out softly.
“Here, finish your beer and I’ll get you another,” Magnus says, pushing my glass under my face. He goes to the bar, and I stay where I am, stewing in the enormity of what he said while finishing the rest of the beer, as if it will drown my feelings.
Laila told Lady Jane that she loved me.
When? Before I nearly lost her, lost my balls, and fucked everything up? Or did she tell her afterward? Like, is it possible she still feels that way about me, even after all I did?
Magnus comes back with the beers and sits back down, sliding mine toward me.
“When did Laila tell Lady Jane?” I ask.
“I’m not sure.”
“Was it before or after…”
He raises a brow. “Before or after what, James?” he asks dryly.
“Before I fucked shit up with her for the second time.”
“And so what happened?” He gestures for me to continue. “How exactly did you fuck shit up this time?”
I exhale heavily and lean back in my seat, wiggling the tension out of my jaw. “I don’t know. I was just…it was the same as the time before. We had sex and it was emotional and…I freaked the fuck out.”
“And why did you freak the fuck out?”
“Because I almost lost her,” I tell him. “When that man tried to attack her. I saw my whole life flash in front of my eyes, but it was a life without her in it. I realized I can’t be close to her and do my job. I can’t be with someone who’s in the line of danger.”
“But as a member of the royal household she has always been a target.”
“I know,” I tell him. “But it didn’t really register until that day on the mountain.”
“And now you’re scared.” He pauses. “But that doesn’t change the fact that she’s in love with you…for some reason,” he adds under his breath.
“I’m not deserving of her love,” I practically snipe. “I’m a mess. I’m flawed. I’m…not a person that people stick around for. Not my parents, not my first wife. People leave me. And they should. I mean, look at how I treated her. If she loves me, then…I’m only going to hurt her.”
Magnus’s eyes are sympathetic as he gives me a half smile. “I see. So it goes deeper than just the fear of losing her. Do you think you’re protecting her, or are you protecting yourself?”
I hesitate, needing to mull that over. I thought I was protecting her from myself. But maybe I’m actually protecting myself from her.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “Maybe both. But in the end, I hurt her. I pretty much stonewalled her again, and this whole time, this whole fucking time we were together, that was my worst fear. That I’d hurt her.”
“And you did,” he says simply.
I close my eyes. My chest feels like it’s getting knifed between the ribs.
“You know what a dritsekk is in English, James?” Magnus asks.
“A shitbag?” I say, looking at him.
“Yes. You are a shitbag, James.”
My shoulders sink, and I have a gulp of beer. “I know.”
“So what is the solution here, then?” Magnus says. “You can’t quit because of this. Don’t make us suffer because you can’t handle your emotions properly.”
That’s rich coming from Magnus, but I bite my tongue.
“The thing is,” he goes on, “love is always going to be a risk. I should know, I’m the king of risks.”
“More like the prince of risks,” I point out. It’s not lost on me that we’re talking about love now. Because that is what I’m feeling for Laila. It’s love. There’s no question about it.
“James,” he says gravely, and I have no choice but to shut up and listen. “I’ve done many scary, outrageous fucking things in my life, but falling in love with Ella was by far the most terrifying. No one who loves truly and freely does so without being scared, because the loss of love is a world-ender. If I lost Ella, my world would simply cease to be. But we accept the risk and take a leap of faith, because if— when —it works out, there’s nothing greater. You just have to accept the risk and take the leap and have some damn faith that things will work out the way they’re supposed to. You’re a brave man, James, I know that. If you can dive in front of a bullet, you can give your heart to Laila.”
I stare down my drink, humbled by his words.
“But there’s really no point in thinking about such things since you won’t have a relationship until you make things up with Laila,” he continues. “But the question is, what is your end game? Do you just want her to accept your apology and not be mad at you anymore? Or do you want something more from her?”
I rub my lips together hard, trying to find the truth. I don’t have to look too hard. “It’s possible.”
“Possible and likely?”
I palm my beer, turning it around on the table. “Possible and very likely,” I say, feeling my heart sink.
“Well, then, shitbag, you only have one course of action,” he says. “You must try to win her back.”
I give him the most withering look. “That will be impossible at this point.”
“But does that mean you’re not going to try? Don’t you think Laila is worth the effort?”
Magnus looks so sincere I almost laugh.
“You know you could have been a therapist in another life.”
He grins at that. “A Viking and a therapist. A most noble occupation.”
By the time we get back to the estate I am pleasantly drunk and bolstered by Magnus’s confidence in me. There’s something freeing now about the fact that he knows—nay, the whole entire house knows—that there’s something going on between Laila and me. Of course the biggest bloody issue is that there isn’t anything going on between us—not anymore.
But if I can make it up to her somehow, if I can perfect the art of groveling, then perhaps I can change that. If I explain to her how I truly feel and how I’m going to try to work through what I’m afraid of, whether that’s with her or with a therapist, then that’s what I’m going to do.
“James,” Magnus says to me in the hallway as I’m about to walk off to Laila’s room. He puts his hand on my shoulder, keeping me in place, and I sway a little. “Tell me you’re going to bed right now. Your own bed.”
I give him a sheepish look. “I was hoping to maybe do a bit of groveling.”
“It’s almost midnight and you’re wasted,” he whispers roughly.
“I believe you said you’d fire me if I stayed sober,” I point out.
“Do your groveling some other time,” he says, giving me a hearty shake that makes the hall spin. “Let the dear nanny rest.”
I sigh and he lets go of me, and I nearly stumble into the wall. I make my way to my door and open it, glancing over my shoulder to see Magnus staring at me with his arms crossed, like a father making sure his child is really going to bed. I’ve never felt more like Bjorn.
I go inside my room and close the door behind me before flopping down on the bed in my suit.
I lie there for a moment, trying to gather up the strength and courage to go out and see Laila anyway. Then I hear her bed creak from her room. I move myself up on the bed until my head is pressed against the wall.
“Laila?” I say. “Are you up?”
No answer.
“Laila?” I say a little louder.
I push my ear harder against the wall.
“I want to talk to you,” I go on, trying not to slur my words. “I need to talk to you. Can I come over?”
Silence.
Then, “No.”
I shouldn’t be surprised at the rejection, but my drunk little heart feels the pinch.
I open my mouth to protest, to say something, anything to convince her, but I hear her sigh loudly. A sigh filled with sadness and longing.
“Go to sleep, James.”
And so I do.