Epilogue #2
It’s hard to know which fills my heart more—the thought of Miller being my husband or the late-in-life love and joy Grandpa and Elsie have found together.
“I believe we have a couple of things to celebrate.” Chase Cooper appears at the end of our row, holding a bottle of champagne. A woman beside him is carrying a tray of glasses.
“This is Amelia,” Chase says. “Our brilliant executive assistant but terrible server. So grab a glass before she drops them all.”
“I’m not that bad,” Amelia says with a laugh.
“Hey.” Leo appears out of nowhere dressed in his usual shades of gray and black despite the heat of the evening. “Amelia’s right. Not that bad at all. I totally wanted chocolate sauce with my burger last week.”
That’s the first time I’ve seen him smile in a way that reaches his eyes.
“It was in a squeezy bottle just like the mustard,” Amelia protests.
Leo reaches for the tray she’s holding. “Maybe I’ll take these anyway,” he says, “just to help out.”
Amelia’s face pinkens and she whispers a thank-you to Leo.
In front of me, Elsie giggles and takes the glass of champagne that Chase has filled for her.
“I just came to watch a soccer game.” She looks delighted and staggered and like she’s struggling to absorb everything. “But now I’m being served drinks by a movie star and going home with a fiancé.”
“As long as it’s that way around,” Grandpa says.
I reach down and throw my arms around his neck to give him the biggest hug I can at full stretch over the seats.
He puts his face to the side of my head facing away from Elsie. “No one’s taking anyone’s place, you know,” he whispers.
The fact his instinct is to worry about how I might feel twangs my heartstrings and sends another set of tears spilling from my eyes.
“I know. Don’t worry.” I sniff. “I love Elsie. She’s great. And I love seeing you this happy. She’s good for you.”
It flashes across my mind that maybe Miller and I could get married at the arts barn.
The building is stunning. The local crew did an amazing job.
The workshop spaces are all fully occupied—there was a waiting list—it has an amazing new café, and they managed to get a whole bunch of kids’ crafts workshops together in time for summer.
If my grandma can’t attend my wedding, at least she could be there in spirit in the building that now bears her name.
“Here.” Miller passes me a glass of champagne and looks concerned when he sees my face. “Are you okay?” He brushes the dampness from my cheeks.
“Yeah, just a lot of things swirling around in here.” I point to my head.
“We can unswirl them later,” he says, and kisses my forehead. “Together.”
“Everyone got one?” Leo asks, checking to see that we’re all holding a drink before putting the tray down and taking one for himself.
“We have a lot to celebrate this evening.” Chase raises his sparkling glass. “So here’s to…well, everyone, I guess.”
“To everyone,” Oliver echoes.
Miller looks at me out of the corner of his eye and winks. “To us,” he whispers.
I link my arm through his and, along with Grandpa, Elsie, Oliver, Chase, Leo, and Amelia, we chink our glasses together, right as the teams run onto the field for the second half.
“Fuck, yes.” Miller punches the air so hard both his feet lift off the ground.
Oliver’s loud yell on the other side of me makes me jump too.
The Commoners have scored in the dying minutes of the game to go two-one up.
Miller turns to Chase and Leo behind us. Chase is cheering, and Leo’s doing a more sedate clap while Amelia bounces on the balls of her feet, swinging her arms over her head, beside him.
“What a goal,” Miller shouts above the roar of the fans. “Glad we kept Schumann now, Leo?”
“Doesn’t mean it was the right decision on paper,” he says.
“You know what, Leo?” Miller sounds suddenly philosophical. “Sometimes you have to take the paper and rip it the fuck up.”
He wraps his arm around me and presses his lips to my forehead right as the ref blows the whistle and the home crowd takes the roars up another notch.
“What a day,” Miller says, applauding his team. “A win and two proposals.”
“Got to love how the win comes first on your list,” Oliver says.
“Priorities,” Miller says, and winks at me. I hope there’s never a day when that wink fails to make my insides shimmy.
“Whoa. That was quite the experience,” Elsie says, getting to her feet.
“The win or your engagement?” Oliver asks with a mischievous smirk.
“Honestly, both,” she laughs, leaning on Grandpa’s shoulder.
“Got time to hang out for one more celebratory bevvy?” Oliver asks.
I nod at Miller, knowing Elsie’s day will be even better if she gets to chat with a real living British royal for a few more minutes.
“Love to,” Chase says, “but I have to catch a flight to LA for a meeting about the movie I’m producing.”
“That’s the one about the female soccer player, right?” Miller asks.
Chase nods as he puts his jacket on.
“And I have a contract to read over,” Leo says.
“I’m up for it,” Amelia says. “What would everyone like?”
Leo coughs. “Actually, maybe I can stay for a little bit. The contract won’t take that long.”
We all give Amelia our drink orders, and Grandpa and Elsie head for the restrooms.
“Hah. Brooke just sent me this.” Miller holds up his phone.
It bears the most adorable photo of seven-month-old baby William dressed head to toe in Boston Commoners gear.
“You might be next,” Chase says, slapping Miller on the back before there’s a flurry of goodbyes as he heads out.
Miller and Leo are then suddenly deep in conversation about some sort of investment bond.
Oliver looks as uninterested and uneducated about such financial matters as I am.
“Do you miss home?” I ask him, just to make conversation.
He gives me a noncommittal shrug. “I love living in New York. People kind of leave me alone there.”
“You mean you can wander around unrecognized?” That seems hard to believe.
“For the most part. As long as I’m wearing a baseball cap. And keep my head down. And my security stays well back.” He jerks his head toward the box entrance where two men who look like they’re CIA guys heading for the beach are stationed.
“I make them dress down too,” Oliver says. “If they were walking around in black suits and white shirts and talking into their cuffs, that would be a real giveaway.”
“And you have them twenty-four hours a day?” I ask.
“Yup. I had death threats after I moved to the US. Well, I had them in the UK too, but they got worse after I left.”
“Wow. All this security must cost a fortune.” Shit, that’s an embarrassing thing to say. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to talk about your personal finance.”
He waves it off like it’s nothing. “No worries. It’s hardly a secret. The press talks about it often enough.”
How he manages to be so consistently jovial and easygoing considering the pressure he lives under, I’ll never know.
“I really need some kind of a job to cover it all now. I sold my business when I left the UK, so that I could cut all ties and arrive here with a clean slate and make a fresh start.” He laughs, but it’s obvious there’s an undercurrent of genuine concern for his financial situation.
“It’s good that you have this team,” I tell him.
“It’s fun,” he says. “Not sure it’s an investment that will ever pay off, but it’s good to be part of something.
This place is like a little family. I mean, Chase and I aren’t from Boston—hell, I’m not even from this country—and neither of us even lives in this city, but the fans and staff welcomed us with open arms as soon as we bought the club. ”
Grandpa and Elsie reappear, and Oliver turns their seats around so they can face us.
“I don’t know if it’s okay for me to say this,” Elsie says, playing with the strap of her purse as she sits. “But I once worked on one of your grandmother’s dresses.”
“Wow,” Oliver says. “Which one?”
“It was this beautiful shimmering silk, with white brocade around the neckli—”
“I meant which grandma.” Oliver chuckles in an affectionate, completely nonmocking way.
Elsie’s face flushes. “Oh, your mother’s mother. The actual…Queen.” She says “queen” almost silently, like it’s a word so shrouded in awe that no one should really say it out loud. “It was a long time ago, of course. But it was a beautiful dress.”
“Here we go.” Amelia puts a large tray of drinks on a table off to the side and starts handing them out as the other guys rejoin us.
Elsie takes a glass of Guinness and sniffs it, like she can’t work out what it is. Grandpa looks at the drink in his hand like he’s never seen red wine before.
“That’s mine,” Oliver says, taking Elsie’s Guinness and switching it for the peppermint tea Amelia gave him.
“I think you have my wine,” Chase says to Grandpa.
And so begins a drinks merry-go-round until everyone has what they asked for.
“Was Leo the only one to get the right thing first time?” Miller asks, looking at the mug the billionaire investor is holding.
“His is easy to remember,” Amelia says.
“Because I’m special,” Leo says, looking into his drink.
“Because it’s weird,” she says.
“Nothing weird about hot chocolate.”
“There’s a lot weird about you and hot chocolate.” Amelia picks up her own glass of white wine. “You don’t go together.”
“Anyway,” Miller says to Oliver. “How’s the book coming along?”
“You’re writing a book?” I ask.
“Memoir.” He leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “I thought it was going well. The publisher…not so much.”
“This is supposed to be your big earner, isn’t it?” Leo asks.
“Yeah, but apparently my writing’s not up to snuff. So they want me to work with a ghostwriter.”
“That’s good, though, isn’t it?” Grandpa asks. “Less work for you.”
“Yeah, but…” Oliver shakes his head.
“Ol’s pretty private,” Miller says. “Doesn’t like spending much time with people he doesn’t know.”
“Some would call it trust issues,” Amelia adds.
“Well, whatever my personality flaws are,” Oliver says, “I’m going to have to suck it up, because it’s either work with this woman on the book or there’s no book.”
Leo shakes his head. “And, therefore, no huge advance.”
“What’s the ghostwriter like?” I ask. “Maybe it’ll be someone nice, someone you feel comfortable with.”
“She’s the type of person I’m least comfortable with.” He huffs. “A bloody journalist.”
“Oo.” Chase, the only other person here who knows what it’s like to be pursued by paparazzi, snatches in a sharp breath and winces.
“Best not to judge any situation,” Grandpa says. “You never know what life’s going to have in store. Look at me. A year ago I’d never have imagined I’d be sitting here with all of you and a new fiancée.”
There’s a friendly chuckle from everyone, even Leo.
“Just be sure to do what lights you up,” Grandpa says.
“Not sure I’ve figured out what that is yet,” Oliver says with a heavy smile.
“As someone very wise once told me,” Grandpa says, turning his gaze to me, “you get to choose your own adventure.”
“I like it.” Oliver sits up straighter. “And I’ll drink to it. Here’s to all of us choosing our own adventures.”
We all raise our glasses in unison again, as Grandma’s motto lives on in another lucky person.
So Oliver is going to have to work closely with a ghostwriter he hates before he’s even met her, huh? And spend hour upon hour with her, telling her his life story, and innermost feelings and secrets. Wonder how that’s going to go…
Get Oliver and Lexi’s story in The Thing About My Prince.