32. Declan #2
My mother laughs. “They’ve been doing this for sixty-some years. If anyone questions their loyalty or the closeness of their relationship, it will sound completely ridiculous.”
I breathe out. “Good. And he knows we’re all coming?”
“Yes,” Linnea confirms. “He also knows there’s going to be a wedding.”
I put my arm around Astrid and tuck her up against my side. “Then let’s do this.”
Our crowd makes its way up to my grandfather’s chambers, and my mother goes in first. A moment later, she motions us in.
My grandfather looks better than he has on my last two visits.
Granted, the first time, when I married Astrid, he’d had a heart attack just the day before. But even on that first Christmas, he had looked frail and every one of his eighty-some years.
Today, he is bright-eyed and seemingly full of energy.
He smiles at all of us and stands to greet us. “Welcome! It’s so wonderful to see all of you!”
My grandmother keeps her seat, but her smile is bright as well, and she tilts her cheek to accept kisses from everyone as they greet her.
There is a full tea service on the table in front of them, but they seem to have finished.
Because it is the King’s chambers—Torin and Abigail have taken over an entirely different wing of the palace—there’s plenty of seating for everyone, and our group spreads out throughout the room.
My grandfather focuses on Alex first of all people and strides forward, extending his hand. “Alex, my boy, the new hockey team is absolutely delightful.”
Astrid makes a little squeak next to me. The hockey team is her baby after all.
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Alex says, casting his sister a glance with a wry smile.
“What would you think of a circus theme?” Diarmuid asks.
Obviously surprised, Alex repeats, “A circus theme?”
“You should be the ringmaster, of course. Then various animals, multiple tricks, there could be clowns,” the king says. “Definitely a ring of fire.”
“A ring of fire on the ice?” Alex asks.
Diarmuid claps Alex on the shoulder, laughing. “Isn’t that a great idea?”
Now, when Alex looks at Astrid, his expression clearly says, Help me.
But Astrid has settled back against my side, obviously more than happy now to let Alex discuss bonkers hockey with the king.
“I can absolutely talk to our Parks and Rec Director about that,” Alex says, reaching for Nora.
Nora dodges his grasp, ducking behind Iris with a soft giggle.
“She and Astrid actually come up with a lot of the ideas and themes,” Alex goes on.
Diarmuid nods. “Tell her you also need to incorporate more eighties rock.”
Maybe he’s forgotten that Alex’s Nora is the one to talk to about such things. Or maybe he really wants Alex’s take on his ideas. Or maybe he’s messing with all of us. Any of the above are possible.
He goes on, “I understand that the current music speaks to a certain audience, but there are plenty of us watching who would appreciate more of the oldies.”
“The eighties are oldies?” Linnea asks, sounding genuinely curious.
“Well, they do Sinatra, and I’ve heard some Eagles and Fleetwood Mac.” The king looks at Alex. “All solid choices, of course. But we need more Springsteen. And what about Prince? Madonna?”
I look from Astrid to Iris to Linnea to Cian.
It’s clear none of us realized that our grandfather knew Madonna.
“You’re an eighties rock fan? Really?” Cian asks.
“All people with any taste and even an ounce of fun are eighties rock fans,” Diarmuid informs him. He narrows his eyes slightly. “I think you would agree I have taste and that I’m fun.”
Cian chokes on a laugh, then nods solemnly. “The most fun.”
I was here in Cara, in this very palace, until I was eighteen. Unless my grandfather had an existential crisis that changed everything about his personality, fun was not an adjective anyone would ever have used to describe him.
Though I’ve often wished I could have been a fly on the wall for that drunken poker game he played with Alfred…
“We could actually do an entire night of eighties rock,” Nora says, stepping out from behind Iris, finally unable to contain her creative theme-night-loving self.
Diarmuid locks onto her like a hunter onto prey.
“I’ll sponsor it,” he says. “Anything you want to do. My only request is that there be wigs.”
Nora steps closer to him, her eyes wide. “How can we honor the hair bands without decent wigs?” she asks.
“Exactly,” he says, completely serious. “And…” he says.
Nora actually leans in, anticipating his next suggestion.
“How can we do purple rain?”
Nora gasps in delight.
“Like the Prince song?” Cian asks.
Nora and Diarmuid both turn to look at him.
“Actual purple rain,” Nora says as if that was obvious.
Diarmuid nods his agreement. “Right.”
Nora steps closer to the older king. “I will find a way.”
Alex has a hand covering his eyes and is shaking his head.
Linnea is standing with the same exact posture.
Astrid is shaking. With laughter.
“Grandfather,” I say, interrupting the stream of creativity that I know could go on for another hour. Or more. “We are here about a wedding.”
My grandfather claps his hands together. “Yes, yes. Of course.” He looks at Nora. “We’ll talk more later.”
“Yes,” she says, now fully on board.
My grandfather focuses on Astrid. “My dear girl. I am so happy about this.”
She grins at him. “Me too. Very happy.”
He holds out his hand to her, and she takes it. He tugs her closer. “I am so happy to join you in marriage to your true love.”
Then he holds out his other hand.
To Miles.
Looking a little confused, Miles automatically reaches out and takes the king’s hand. But before Diarmuid can pull Miles forward to stand with Astrid, I erupt.
“Are you all fucking with me?” I stomp forward and lift Astrid by the waist, setting her behind me, positioning myself between her and my grandfather. “Stop messing around.”
He blinks up at me, but I see the twinkle in his eyes that are the same brown as mine.
My siblings all have blue eyes. The blue eyes of my grandmother and my mother. I’m the only one with dark eyes.
But they are my grandfather’s eyes.
“Astrid is my wife,” I tell him. “I’m in love with her. You’re going to marry us.”
He smiles. “Okay.”
I stare at him for a moment, then shake my head. “That’s it?”
“Why would I argue?”
“Because you and I always argue.”
“And where has that gotten us?” he asks, his playful smile fading a bit.
There are a few ways I could answer that question. The most obvious is to tell him that it resulted in my leaving my home and family for eighteen years and missing holidays, huge, important milestones, and small, meaningful memory-making moments.
But I don’t say that.
I pause.
I turn and look around the room.
At my siblings, who are all next to the loves of their lives. Their happiness is palpable, and their matches are perfect.
I look at my brother, Torin, who is now the beloved leader of the country we all love and who is making true, progressive change.
Then I look at Fiona, who has saved countless animals and, even more, has inspired and empowered others to do the same, creating a ripple effect that has probably benefited millions of lives.
Finally, I look at Cian, who is working to support single-parent families in ways that are proving to local and national leaders that not only can it be done, but it can be done faster and more economically than they believed.
Programs are cropping up in cities and counties everywhere, and real families are being helped every day because of him and Scarlett.
They’re all doing real work that is paving the way for even more to come behind them and expand on what they’ve started, making actual real-time change.
If my grandfather and I hadn’t argued, I would have stayed in Cara. I would have become king. I would have married Linnea. And while my siblings might have left, they wouldn’t have had the support system I created to do the things they’ve done.
Not only would all of these lives and loves not have happened, but all of the lives they’ve touched wouldn’t have been changed.
I focus on my grandfather and answer his question honestly. “It’s gotten us exactly where we all needed to be.”
He looks surprised for a moment. Then his eyes fill, and a smile curls his lips.
“Declan, do you take Astrid to be your wife?”
I turn and reach for Astrid. She takes my hand. I pull her forward to stand with me in front of my grandfather. I look directly into her eyes.
“I do. With everything in me. Forever.”
“Astrid, do you take Declan to be your husband?”
“I absolutely do,” she answers.
He gives us a huge smile and lifts his hands. “I declare you wed. Go forth with my blessing.”
Astrid and I grin at one another, then I pull her in and kiss her. Deeply.
The room applauds and cheers, and we’re laughing when we separate.
“Alfred would have been so happy.”
We look at my grandfather. Astrid sniffs. “Yes, he would have.”
“And I want to say, that Alfred and I had hoped for a baby from your union—”
“Grandfather,” I interrupt.
He holds up a hand. “We had hoped for a baby because we, obviously, couldn’t have one together. But we were always so happy with all of the children and grandchildren that came from our marriages.” He smiles at my grandmother. “Things have a way of working out the way they should.”
She blows him a kiss.
He looks at us again. “So I was, of course, prepared to accept there would be no O’Grady-Olsen baby, but I am thrilled with the news of the pregnancy!”
There are gasps all around the room, and Astrid and I look at each other with what the hell looks.
She shakes her head. “Definitely not,” she assures me.
I look at my grandfather. “Wait, whose pregnancy?”
Maybe he’s talking about someone—
“Astrid, of course.”
The room gasps again.
Astrid shakes her head. “No, I’m not, Your Majesty. I promise you.”
“The podcast specifically said they heard it from Rebel.”
Again, a few people in the room gasp. Cian is the loudest, though, and I know he’s doing it to be funny.
I turn to them. “Stop it. Astrid is not pregnant.”