4. The Save
THE SAVE
ROSALIND
“ W ho is that prick?” Lars growled.
“That would be Callan, my ex. And I move fast, I guess! We’ve only been broken up for four weeks, and I’ve already moved on,” I made a dark little joke.
“Ah, okay. Sorry. I didn’t want to play that card, but he wasn’t leaving you and?—”
“No, I appreciate the save.” I grinned. “It was sweet of you. How are you?”
“I’m… alright. Dealing with my mother.”
She grimaced.
“Yes. But my niece is around, and I’m helping her with her dinghy. She’s quite the little mariner. This is her first Christmas away from her Mor and?—”
“I get it. Being away from your mum on Christmas must be shit. It’s sweet of you to be there for her.”
“She’s a clever kid. Funny. And I’m a sucker when she guilts me into things.”
I smiled broadly. That was sweet. Coming from a family of seven, I understood. Even my extended and found family ranked high on my list of priorities. I would be lost without them.
“Good. So, you’re racing.”
“I will be doing the Melges 24 class.”
“So will my idiot ex.”
“Excellent. I look forward to trouncing him. I’m going out with Win and Ollie.”
“Best of luck to you. Should I give you a handkerchief of my colours to take into battle?” I giggled.
“Oh, maybe. But given I don’t know who the fuck he is, I doubt he stands a chance.”
I snickered. He was brutally honest, which was how the Norwegians tended to be. They spared few feelings, but I respected that honesty. It was brutal, but after Callan’s lies, I welcomed it.
“Well, good luck either way. Are you doing the Rum Runner?”
The big ticket of the weekend was an off shore race out and around Biscayne Bay—inspired by prohibition-era imports of rum from Puerto Rico and Cuba.
“Nah. My stepfather and stepbrother have a crew of bros going out, but if I get stuck on a boat with them for four hours, I will probably murder someone.”
“Tell us how you really feel, Lars. Is this why all the Scandinavian murder porn is written? You appear calm, but deep down, you’re all homicidal?”
“Murder porn?”
“That’s what Ingrid calls it. She says Rick is into Murder Porn.”
Lars cocked his head at the mention of his soon-to-be sister-in-law, Ingrid, who I knew through Betty. She was a laugh and a half.
Princess Ingrid was engaged to Lars’s stepbrother, Prince Keir. Yes, another prince . Keir was the product of a late member of the British Royals, Prince Paul. When Paul passed, his widow, Sanne, remarried Paul’s best friend—a Norwegian Prince. That Prince was Lars’s father, Peder. Together, Sanne and Peder produced Betty. It was all borderline incestuous.
“It’s not actual porn,” I said. “It’s just all the murder shows.”
Lars chuckled. “Okay, yes. I get your joke, but I am generally not one to resort to physical assault.”
“Minus that one time?”
Lars rolled his eyes. “How did you hear about that?”
“Well, I’m close to Betty.”
Several years ago, Lars and Keir both held a candle for Ingrid. Lars—enraged at a family barbeque—sucker-punched Keir. It was a legendary row.
“I apologise for my blatant stupidity.”
“It’s fine,” I said. “I have two brothers, and they row enough. I get it. I’m used to Keir’s rather aggressive bravado by now. We Brits hang out.”
“He can be an ass, but I assure you we’re on good terms. He loves Ingrid. I got over it.”
“Good. So, there are no fights at the wedding between the British royals and you lot?”
Lars snickered. “No, I plan to walk with him up to the altar. No hard feelings.”
“Betty is Ingrid’s bridesmaid.”
“She is. Are you going to the wedding then?”
“Uh, yes. I am excited,” I answered. “A wedding at Westminster? I must. Her Majesty is a very generous host.”
“The Queen always treats Betty and me like blood relatives. I respect that.”
My older brother, Niall, approached, one eyebrow raised.
“What is this about the two of you dating?”
I groaned. “Callan said something?”
“Callan has never been one to keep his mouth closed.”
“Yeah, well, he can fuck right off,” I said.
“I said that to send him off,” Lars said.
“So, should I dispute it?” Niall asked Lars.
Lars turned to me. “We should ask the lady, I think.”
“Oh, just ignore it. Please don’t deny it. Whatever keeps him off my case,” I said. “If you don’t mind pretending to be tied down, Lars?”
“Nah,” Lars said. “I am currently at the mercy of my niece. There is zero chance I am making a play for anyone in the next week.”
“So, it’s fake-offish?” Niall joked. “Fuck, you two need to get lives.”