15. The First Meeting
15
The First Meeting
Anton – Five Years Ago
I stare down at my phone, where an ill-fated text message glares up at me.
Mother
I’m at your house, if you can even call it that. Where are you?
I swallow and turn to the side on my beach towel. Rose’s profile comes into view. She’s got her eyes closed and her face turned up to the sun. The waves of the Gulf crash into the shore, creating a giant sound machine. We’re on our own swatch of beach, and it feels like God made this day just for me. The water. The sunshine. The warm Gulf-front breeze kicking up Rose’s choppy hair, tossing strands against her cheeks. The gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathes easily.
Her .
It’s been three months since I ran into her at the bar—well, since Del ran into her. But that’s a technicality. It’s been the best three months of my life. I read somewhere that, in relationships, you should know if you want to be with a person after three months. It’s enough time to get the necessary information about your partner to make an informed decision about next steps. Plow ahead or break it off.
What do I know after three months with Rose?
Everything I need to know. She’s smart and quick-witted. She works hard and is humble. She’s always looking out for those around her .
The other week, I was waiting to surprise her after her cheer practice. She came out of the building with a woman around our age. The two talked for another ten minutes. The other woman was crying, and their conversation ended with a hug. When I asked Rose about it later, she said one of her teammates was struggling through dental school, and since she wasn’t from the area, she was having a hard time finding enough people to serve as her patients. Apparently, they had to find their own patients who were willing to be their test subjects, for lack of a better word.
“She’s afraid she’s not going to have enough clinical hours to pass the class,” Rose had told me. “I tried to rally some of the other girls on the team, but they aren’t too excited about having a novice tinkering with their mouths.” She’d scoffed, and I could tell she hated the vanity on display. “I’m going in for a cleaning. Know anyone who needs a root canal?”
She proceeded to recruit half my teammates, several of her neighbors, and a couple of random people off the street. We had her friend’s schedule filled in less than three days. She didn’t have to do that. She could have stayed in her own little world, her own little bubble. But she saw something she could help with, and she helped.
I love her for that.
I love her . I haven’t told her yet. But I do. And I can’t wait to see what happens next.
I glance back at my phone, which is burning up in my hand. I think it’s because of the scorching Alabama sunshine, but it also could be from the sudden pressure cooker I’m about to ask Rose to step into.
I glance back in her direction, and she’s swiveled her head so she’s staring at me.
“What’s going on?” She tents her eyes with her hand, shading her face. “You look like you sat on a pinecone. ”
“Gee, thanks.” I snort before turning serious again. “It’s nothing major. Totally not a big deal at all. Nothing to be concerned about. Truly. I just have a slight favor. A bit of news.”
Rose scooches up on her elbow so she’s facing me fully. The muscles in her arms flex, and her abs are on full display in the two-piece, athletic-looking swimsuit she wears. I keep my focus on her face because as much as I want to pull her into my arms and kiss her senseless, letting the ocean waves drown out the reality of my life, I can’t do that. She’s waiting for me to continue, and she grabs the football we were throwing back and forth earlier and tosses it to me. “Tell me, Bates.”
I catch the ball with one hand. “I don’t want you to freak out.”
She rolls her eyes. “All of this”—she motions her hands in a circle in my direction—“is making me freak out. Just say it.”
“My mother is in town.” I sigh. “She’s at my house. Right now.”
“Your mother.” She blinks slowly. “As in the queen of Penwick?”
I nod and grimace.
“Is at your house?” She flicks her gaze over my shoulder. “As in the house that’s right up the beach?”
“I wasn’t expecting her. I had no clue she was going to be in the States, or I swear I would have prepped you more. I feel terrible springing her on you like this.” I drag a hand through my hair, rising up to a seated position. “Are you okay meeting her?”
Rose sits and crosses her legs so she’s facing me. “I mean, she’s a queen, so I’m intimidated, not gonna lie. But you really want me to meet her?” she asks.
There’s no hesitation in her voice. That’s my girl. Never one to back down from a fight—or in this case, meeting my mother. But she sounds almost surprised that I would want to introduce her to my mom.
I hold out the football with an end pointed in her direction. When she wraps her hand around it to take it from me, I hang on. “I want you in every aspect of my life, Rose. If I haven’t made that clear, I’m going to have to up my game. ”
Her eyes search mine, and I swear I can see her thoughts in the tidal waves of blue. Then they take on a flirty glint, and she cocks her head to the side. “You’ve got game?” She squeezes the football and tries to pull it away from me. “I didn’t realize it.”
I yank the ball in my direction and her with it. She topples into my lap.
“What’s that now?” I wrap her up, pinning her to me with one arm. I toss the ball up in the air, catching it with my free hand.
“Show off.”
I bend and speak right into her ear. “I’ll show off my game for you anytime, any place. You name it.”
She shivers and snuggles closer to me.
This here is everything I’ve ever wanted. I wish I could freeze time. I dip down and kiss her, trailing my lips up her neck until she shifts in my arms so she’s looking at me. Strands of her hair whip in the wind and flutter over my jawline. “Do we need to go now?”
I sigh. “Yeah, we shouldn’t keep her waiting.”
We stand and roll up our towels, stuffing them in the beach bag we packed a couple hours before. I toss the football in on top of where Rose tucked the rom-com she was reading. We had fixed a picnic lunch, expecting to stay out all afternoon. I hoist the cooler up off the sand, and I swallow down a mouthful of annoyance at my mom’s timing. I want to spend the day with Rose. I cherish the time we get together, and I’m trying to stockpile as many moments with her as I can before the season starts in the fall, and we both get busy.
But I haven’t seen my mom in seven months. I need to put on a good face and play host.
I’m sweating as we start the hike back to my small, beachside bungalow—and not just from the sun. I might have played it cool with Rose, but the meeting of these two women—the most important women in my life—is not something I take lightly .
I glance to my right, and Rose is surveying me. She wiggles her shoulders. “Relax, Bates. I can be very charming.”
I feel my own shoulders drop. If she’s not making a huge deal out of this, then I sure as heck shouldn’t be. I’m a little shocked by her lack of nerves, but I don’t overthink it. I’m mostly grateful. If Rose can handle my royal status—and the ostentatiousness of my mother—then she’s even more perfect for me than I thought.
“We should hurry, though, huh?” she says.
“I’m not really in a rush to share you.” I reach out to wrap her in my arms again, but she side-steps out of my grasp.
“Good try. But I need to make a solid first impression. Race you up to the house.” Rose takes off in a sprint, the beach umbrella she’s carrying bouncing along at her side.
I’m weighed down by the cooler and beach bag, but I tear off after her. My legs churn through the sand as I gain on her. I feel the grain and dust getting stuck to my sweat-covered calves and my lower back, but I dig deep and pull even with her.
She’s beaming as she races ahead, and I match her pace as we push all the way back to the steps that come down off the back deck of my tiny bungalow.
We’re both gasping for air as we drop our gear. Rose places her hands behind her neck to catch her breath. “I win,” she says between gulps of oxygen.
I shake my head at her, my own hands on my hips. “You had a head start.”
She beams. “Gotta keep you on your toes.”
I step toward her and scoop her into my arms.
She squeals as I lift her off the ground. “What are you doing?”
I flip her so I’m cradling her, with one arm around her back and the other under her knees. “You keep me on my toes, so I’m sweeping you off your feet.”
She throws her head back and laughs. When she meets my gaze again, her eyes are dancing. “That was terrible. ”
I take the opportunity this position grants me to kiss the column of her neck again. She sucks in a breath, and I pull back, studying her eyes. The blue is like my own personal ocean.
Rose cups my cheek and leans forward in my arms. I kiss the birthmark on the edge of her eye, then the bridge of her nose, and then the dimple on the other side of her cheek before bringing my mouth to hers and kissing her slowly and deeply.
Until the screen door off the back of my house bangs open, and we spring apart.
There, standing in all her intimidating queenly glory, is my mother.
Rose sucks in a sharp breath and frantically taps the back of my shoulder where her hand is resting. I get the put me down message loud and clear.
I dip her toward the ground, and she slides out of my arms. I miss the closeness immediately, but I clear my throat and stand to my full height. I will make this a good first meeting between these two women, no matter what it takes.
“Mother. Welcome.” I take three steps forward and meet her as she descends the stairs and comes to a stop right in front of me.
She leans in, and I give her an air kiss on each cheek. It’s formal, and I cringe. After my dad passed, it was as if my mom shut off the part of her brain that controlled her affection.
I turn and beckon Rose forward.
“Mother, I’d like you to meet Rose, my girlfriend.” The word girlfriend seems so insignificant for what Rose is to me. Confidant. Friend. Teammate. Love of my life . But I can’t say any of those things. Not yet. I smile down at Rose before flicking my gaze to my mom, saying a silent prayer that she’ll play nice.
My mother’s left eye twitches slightly as she assesses us. I wouldn’t think anything of it, except I’ve read countless articles in the Penwick media, and all the talking heads are convinced that’s my mother’s tell. Her eye twitches when she’s holding back or when she has something on her mind that she’s not saying .
Before I can dwell on what that might mean, Rose takes a step forward and thrusts out her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty.”
My mom takes the proffered hand and gives it a lackluster squeeze.
Rose rolls her lips into her mouth in a moment of uncertainty before masking it with a smile. “I’m sorry we weren’t around to greet you properly.”
My mom waves her arm dismissively. “It’s my own fault for popping in unannounced. Though, in my defense, even if I would have tried to contact this one”—she gestures to me—“to let him know I was coming to the States, the chances of him responding to me would be slim to none.”
She’s not wrong. I’m a busy guy, yeah. But I also tend to avoid my mom’s communications like they’re a contagious virus, and I’m trying not to get sick.
“I know the feeling. Anton will leave me on read sometimes too. I have to resort to calling him…like some sort of heathen.“ Rose chuckles and squeezes my side to let me know she’s joking.
“That was one time,“ I argue, grateful to her for lightening the mood and getting me out of having to respond to my mom’s critique.
Truthfully, I kind of like when she calls me. Texting is great and all, but I’ll take any chance I can get to hear her voice.
“Anyway,” Rose says, smiling up at me. “We’re sort of a mess. We were out at the beach.”
“I can see that.” My mom looks down her nose at us, and I can imagine what she’s thinking. I let my royal son live abroad, and all sense of decorum flies out the window.
She snaps her gaze from my sand-covered legs to my eyes. “Anton, why don’t you get cleaned up first and let us ladies have a little chat. Then, while Rose is getting ready, we can get some plans together for a suitable dinner. ”
I open my mouth to respond, not wanting to subject Rose to any one-on-one time with my mom unless it’s absolutely necessary, but I catch Rose’s eye, and she gives me an encouraging nod.
“Okay,” I agree. I place a quick kiss on Rose’s temple and bound up the stairs and inside.
I manage to get myself together in less than ten minutes. I pause at the door to the porch, observing the two women for a moment before making my presence known.
Rose and my mom have moved to the set of chairs I have in the far corner of the fenced-in porch. They have their heads together and appear to be in deep conversation. My mother has her back to me, and she seems to be doing most of the talking. Rose is facing the door, so I can see her nodding. Her brow is furrowed like she’s putting a lot of thought into whatever my mother is telling her.
Hopefully not anything that’ll scare her off.
I push open the door, and my mom glances over her shoulder. “Ah, Anton. Good. You’re back.”
“How’s it going?” I stand near Rose’s shoulder, placing a hand on her upper back in a show of support.
“Good, good. Rose was telling me she’s a cheerleader.” My mom glances at Rose and then up at me again. “How positively charming.”
I stiffen at the condescension that’s laced in her compliment. If I can hear it, I’m sure Rose can. I feel her tense under my hand, and I want to come to her defense, but I don’t know how to call my mom out for her arrogance without opening up a whole can of worms about Rose’s status and mine. I don’t really want to have that conversation now, so instead, I do the half-baked thing and say, “Did she tell you she’s a writer, as well?”
“A woman of many talents, no doubt.” My mom’s eye twitches again .
Rose places her hand over mine and squeezes. “I’ll give you two a chance to catch up.”
She smiles at me, and it looks genuine. I exhale a small sigh of relief as she heads inside. Rose can handle herself. I don’t doubt that. And she’s strong enough to handle my mother.
I drop into the chair she vacated.
“Rose seems like a very nice girl.” My mom crosses her leg and pins me with a calculating look.
“She is,” I say cautiously. And then, because I’m all in here, I add, “I’m in love with her.”
My mom’s eyes bulge, and then that left one twitches again, ever so slightly. “Nonsense, Anton.”
“I’m serious. She’s it for me. I’ve never been surer of anything.”
She presses her lips together, and I glance over her shoulder to make sure Rose isn’t standing at the door. When I tell her how I feel, it will be romantic and direct—and not with my mother present.
“You’re from completely different worlds. It’ll never work.” My mother flicks a piece of lint from her pantsuit. “Besides, you’ll need to marry a woman from Penwick, preferably someone of our status.”
I roll my eyes. “An arranged marriage? I won’t be doing that.”
My mom arches her eyebrows. “You’ll do what’s expected of you because of the crown you were born wearing, Anton. There are certain things that are non-negotiable.”
I shake my head. “There’s nothing in Penwick law that forbids me from being with an American.”
If there was, that would be another item to add to my ever-growing list of reasons to abdicate. It’s mostly a silly little game I play, or a dream I have. What my life could be like if I wasn’t beholden to the crown. If I didn’t have to go back to Penwick at age thirty and live the life I was born into. But it’s merely a game. There’s no way I could shirk my responsibilities .
My mom waves me off. “It’s all but implied. And it’s for the best. I mean, my word, Anton, you think a cheerleader , even one who writes,“ she adds with a scoff, “is going to be able to help you run our country? That’s preposterous. You need a partner who is established in politics and understands the social norms of Penwick. Someone who can step into a room and demand respect. Like I said, Rose seems like a very nice girl, but she’s not for you—at least not forever.”
I gulp down the wave of nausea that’s building up in my esophagus. As much as I know Rose is the woman for me and as much as I believe she’s the exact type of person I want by my side, I have to concede one thing about my mom’s point. We’re from different worlds, Rose and I. I have no idea if she’d be willing to uproot her life and move to Penwick—to give up everything she’s ever known, the familiarity and luxuries of American living, to come and live on a small island where half the population is grumpy about the royal family and the drain they believe us to be on the resources of the country. If I’m being completely honest, I sort of side with the people on this one. I want to make my own way.
All of this is a conversation I need to have with Rose, but it’s not one I’m going to have with my mom at the table, looking down her nose at us.
My mom takes my lack of response as my acknowledgement of her rightness, and I don’t have the backbone to correct her. “Glad we had this talk. You know, this really is a charming little spot. Not at all like Penwick.”
Maybe that’s why I like it so much.
I can’t sit still anymore. Thirty minutes and I already need a break from my mother and the stifling weight of my future. I stand and take two paces across the porch. I hear a small, barely audible intake of breath and catch sight of Rose inside the door. She steps out onto the porch in a simple green sundress. She’s put on gold hoop earrings and has her hair braided across the front like a headband. Our eyes lock, and she smiles at me, even as my heart sinks. How much of this conversation did she hear?
My mom stands, in all her royal grandeur, and beams. “Oh, good. Rose, darling, you’re here. Now, let’s eat. I’m starving.”