Epilogue
TEN YEARS LATER – EDDIE
The sky was sharp blue, the air rich with the scent of honeysuckle and fresh grass, and the temperature a muggy thirty-two degrees Celsius—or ninety Fahrenheit, as Bash would insist on saying—which was still a good ten degrees warmer than I preferred.
In the distance, a string of clouds crowned the Smoky Mountains, proving how they’d earned their name.
We’d lived here for five months now, but I still wasn’t accustomed to the views.
Every morning, when I stepped onto our wraparound porch with my coffee, it struck me how blessed I was to call this place home and to share that privilege with the man I loved.
My husband now, Bash, and I’d taken his surname, making me Gregory Puller—though nearly everyone called me Eddie these days.
Except for one little girl with beautiful brown hair, fair skin, and my green eyes. She called me Daddy.
“You guys picked a phenomenal spot,” Orson said, stretching his legs in one of the wooden loungers Bash’s father had handcrafted. “The view is amazing. And I love how you kept the original elements as much as possible. The place has character.”
It did. We’d purchased the century-old farmhouse for a fraction of its potential worth and invested months of labor and most of our savings into transforming it into exactly what we’d envisioned.
Only ten kilometers from Bash’s parents, it was our little slice of heaven.
“Thank you. The renovations took forever, but it was worth it.”
“Is it true Bash’s father did half of it himself?” Nils asked while gently rocking his five-month-old daughter Freja, who’d fallen asleep in his arms.
“Honestly, I don’t know what we would’ve managed without Dad.
He handled most of the flooring and cabinetry, but more importantly, he kept the contractors honest whilst Bash was away on assignment.
” I couldn’t keep the fondness from my voice when speaking about my father-in-law.
“It was perfect timing, as he’d just retired and was delighted to have a proper project. ”
Nils grinned. “You mean to say that bossing around people is not your strong suit?”
Everyone laughed, including me. I still detested confrontations, and there were moments when I marveled at how I’d ever summoned the courage to stand up to my father and uncle that Christmas Eve so many years ago.
“I was more than happy to delegate that responsibility to Dad. He’s rather more comfortable with what he calls ‘keeping people honest’ than I am.”
A loud cheering had us all look over to a makeshift football field, where Adan and Tore were playing against Floris and Farron, with Bash serving as referee.
Well, attempting to referee, as he was laughing too hard at their competitive banter to maintain proper authority.
And by football, I meant soccer, obviously.
For the first time in years, our little group had reunited with not only the four princes who’d made that fateful pact a decade ago, but with our partners and children as well. The result was delightful chaos, and I was savoring every moment.
“Floris and Farron are determined to wipe the floor with Adan and Tore,” Orson said, taking a long swig from his beer.
“You mean Farron and Tore are determined to wipe the floor with each other,” Nils corrected him. “Those two are still rivals on the field.”
He wasn’t wrong. As much as those two adored each other, they remained fanatically competitive when it came to football. Or any sport, really. Not that Nils was much different when pressed.
“Adan needs to be careful. The Red Wings will not be pleased if he injures himself,” I said, watching him execute a particularly aggressive slide tackle.
Nils smiled at me. “He hasn’t announced it officially yet, but he’s retiring after this season. He’s done.”
“Is it his knee?” I knew Adan had missed nearly an entire season after a devastating injury that had required two surgeries to repair properly.
“It’s everything, really. His body’s had enough, and honestly, he’s ready to move on to the next chapter.”
“What does that look like?”
Nils’s smile widened. “We’re moving to Sweden. I’ve done as much as I could while living in Detroit, but it’s time to step up and take on more responsibilities. And I want the kids to know their heritage, you know?”
I did understand. We all struggled with maintaining connections to our cultures whilst building new lives. Floris and Orson’s twin daughters, currently napping inside under Mama’s watchful supervision, were being raised bilingual, as was Farron and Tore’s son.
Katy spoke with a charming mixture of proper British expressions and an increasingly pronounced Southern drawl, and with our permanent move to North Carolina, I had no doubt the South would claim victory in that particular linguistic battle. I was perfectly content with that outcome.
We’d chosen to make our home here deliberately, close to Bash’s parents, who’d become my parents in every way that mattered.
Mama and Dad, they were now, and they loved me as if I were their natural-born son.
Thankfully, Mama had made a full recovery from lung cancer, ringing the bell to signal the end of her treatment a few months after I’d flown back to the States. We’d celebrated with champagne.
“Daddy, Katy pinched me!”
The annoyance dripped off Arvid’s voice as he came running to complain to Nils, who sighed with the patience of an experienced father. “Buddy, Katy is two. She doesn’t understand she’s hurting you yet.”
He shot me a helpless look, and I rose from my chair. “I’ll talk to her,” I said to Arvid, holding out my hand to him.
The four-year-old sighed as he took it. “It’s okay. She’s little.”
I rubbed his blond curls. “Yeah, she is, but she’ll need to learn she can’t hurt others.”
I found my daughter on the expansive lawn that surrounded our home, now pestering Per, Tore’s six-year-old son. Fortunately, he possessed considerably more patience than Arvid, probably because those two additional years of maturity made an enormous difference at that age.
“Katy, come to Daddy.”
My daughter’s eyes lit up when she saw me and she came running toward me as fast as her little chubby legs could carry her. I plucked her off the ground and lifted her high into the air, delighting in her shriek of laughter.
“Who’s Daddy’s favorite girl?”
“I am!”
“Yes, you are, my darling Katy. You’re Daddy’s absolute favorite girl in the entire world.”
I held her close, breathing in her scent of sunshine and strawberry shampoo and something indefinably sweet.
Two years, and I still wasn’t used to the wonder of being a dad, of being her dad.
She was our sunshine, the absolute joy of our lives.
She was the best of Bash and me, carried by a surrogate.
Much to my shock, Charlotte had donated her eggs, though under the condition we would never tell my father.
We hadn’t, though I had a feeling he suspected.
It was hard to deny how much Katy looked like me, like my mum.
Bash often joked that he had no idea where his DNA had gone, but then Katy had one of her moods where she insisted on doing everything herself, and we both knew.
She possessed Bash’s stubborn determination and absolute fearlessness, combined with what Mama diplomatically called “a strong sense of her own mind.”
She was magnificent.
“I’m tired, Daddy,” Katy said, putting her head on my shoulder.
“Then close your eyes, baby. Daddy’s got you.”
I walked slowly, rocking her gently as she settled against me with the complete trust that children reserve for their parents, sucking her thumb. She was perfect, and I couldn’t wait to add to our family. Bash was on board with this too, now that our home was ready.
He’d recently left his position with the private security firm he’d worked for since taking the honorable discharge route from the Secret Service.
It had seemed wiser to leave before they could terminate him for the relationship that had compromised his professional judgment.
Those years of protecting high-profile clients on short-term contracts had provided enough income for me to accept a lower-paying position with a nonprofit focused on global water access whilst completing my master’s degree and subsequently my doctorate.
Now we were both transitioning to the next phase of our lives.
I’d been offered a professorship at the University of North Carolina—Bash’s alma mater—teaching International Relations and Diplomatic Studies.
The position offered better compensation with significantly less travel, which had enabled Bash to leave private security and return to his previous position as a deputy sheriff.
It was a far cry from the opulence of royal life, but I wouldn’t exchange it for all the palaces in England.
Katy had fallen completely asleep by the time I rejoined the group.
The football match had concluded—judging by Farron and Floris’s triumphant expressions, they’d emerged victorious—and everyone had gathered again around the porch, retrieving cold drinks from the coolers and sampling the array of food we’d prepared.
Dad’s famous baby back ribs would be ready soon; he’d been tending his smoker since dawn.
“She asleep?” Bash asked softly when I sat down next to him.
“Mmm, she was tired.”
He caressed her soft cheek. “She loves falling asleep when you hold her. She’s such a daddy’s girl.”
I couldn’t deny it.
“How’s your uncle, Eddie?” Floris asked. Even my friends now called me Eddie, having adapted without any issues.
“He’s recovering. Gave everyone quite a scare, my father especially.”
Uncle Henry had been diagnosed with skin cancer and had needed two surgeries to remove cancerous growths from his back. While he and I had never grown close, we were on speaking terms, and he had appreciated the audio books I had sent him as a gift to wish him a speedy recovery.
My father’s compromise had found agreement, in the end, and so I had formally kept my titles while stepping out of the spotlight completely.
When the palace had announced the news, including a mention that I was engaged to a man, it had caused a storm, but it had died down when the palace had communicated its acceptance.
That was partly Charlotte’s influence, I knew.
She had worked hard behind the scenes to convince my father and Uncle Henry that the monarchy needed to adapt to the twenty-first century.
Every now and then, the tabloids would report on me, complete with pictures of me visiting projects across the world for my job, but it had become rare now.
“Remember when we made that pact at Harold and Caroline’s wedding?” Floris asked. “To spend a year in the States and experience normal life?”
Nils slowly shook his head. “Who could’ve known it would be the most important decision we could ever made? We all found love… and in unexpected places too.”
That was true enough, but we’d discovered far more than romantic love.
“We also found freedom,” I said, shifting Katy more comfortably in my arms. “The freedom to be authentic. Without that year, we wouldn’t be here today, with our families, living the lives we actually chose rather than the ones chosen for us. ”
Bash found my eyes, his smile radiant with contentment. “I’ll always be grateful for that pact you four made.”
So would I. That decision to seek a year of normalcy had led me to Bash, to this life, to the sleeping child in my arms and the family surrounding us. It had cost me a royal allowance and official duties, but it had given me everything that truly mattered.
As the sun began to set behind the mountains and Dad called out that the ribs were ready, I looked around at our gathering—princes and commoners, children napping and children playing, the easy chaos of family life in all its imperfect glory—and couldn’t imagine wanting anything different.
This was what happiness looked like: not a palace or a title or public adoration, but a home built with love, filled with people who knew your real name and the real you and loved you no matter what.
Ten years ago, I’d been Prince Gregory, living a life that felt like an elaborate performance. Today, I was simply Eddie—a husband, father, professor, and friend—and it was more than enough.
It was everything.