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When I asked where Arabella was, Nick answered. “She’s at Buckingham Palace, of course, having tea and crumpets with the girls.”
Such things were par for the course in the new life I was being introduced to, and by the time we pulled up in front of the velvet steps, I was beginning to feel a bit like a queen myself.
“Are you ready for this?” James asked quietly as Nick and Abby stepped onto the red carpet, to a sea of applause. “It will be louder than you expect.”
I nodded nervously, gripping his arm a bit more tightly. “Just don’t let go of me, okay?”
A tender smile warmed his eyes as he planted a peck on the tip of my nose. “I already told you I won’t be able to take my hands off you.”
No sooner than the words tumbled out and the smirk crossed his face, the door opened again, and I found myself standing on that same red carpet, the two of us making our first official debut as a couple. James was right: The screams and cat-calls were deafening, louder than I would ever have imagined, coming at us from all sides. I tried not to make the rookie mistake of letting the shock show on my face and just clung to his arm, occasionally lifting my hand bravely to wave. Since it was all new to me, I mirrored James’s every motion, his every smile.
While the crowd seemed to be accepting me, much to my relief, the people loved him. While he wasn’t exactly one to welcome constant attention, as evidenced by his earlier attempts to go incognito, it was clearly a role he was born to play. James handled the horde effortlessly and instinctively knowing which way to turn. He knew when to lift his hand, whose questions to answer, and whose loud remarks he needed to ignore. At one point, he actually leaned down and kissed me softly on the cheek, and whether it was staged or real, my entire face warmed with a smile as I leapt up on my toes and kissed him right back.
At the sight of that, the crowd went wild. The flashbulbs blinded us, and the screams deafened us. We may have never found our way inside if not for Abby wisely doubling back to offer a guiding hand.
“Oh my gosh,” I murmured as we breezed through the rotating doors and left the madness behind us. “That was...” I started but stopped because there really was no word for it.
As usual, James seemed to know what I meant. He flashed a wide grin and wrapped his arm snugly around my waist. “Yeah, as it is every time. They never tire of the fanfare.”
Abby timed our entrance perfectly. She knew I was nervous, so we arrived with only the perfect amount of time to meet and be seen by the right people before we had to head to our chairs. The men made sure to procure a top box for the occasion, a place where we had a bit of blessed privacy, with a perfect view of the stage. Feeling more and more like some kind of modern-day princess, I leaned back in my chair and donned a girlish grin, fanning my dress out around me as the lights dimmed and the music began.
I had never been a huge opera fan, as Don Giovanni and Tosca weren’t exactly cult classics back in rural Kentucky, and I felt like the proverbial fish out of water as I stared at the stage in wide-eyed wonder. Never before had I really listened to such music. Never before had I heard it performed live. The whole experience was transcendent.
What was even better than watching the opera itself, though, was watching James watch it. His eyes dilated with perfect concentration, and the second the lights dimmed, he abandoned decorum entirely and leaned against the railing, then rested his chin on his hands like a little boy. Twice, I caught him mouthing along with the lyrics, and more than twice I saw his face light up with absolute enchantment as a singer hit a particular note or fell to his or her knees in lamentation.
I didn’t speak Italian, but I was willing to bet that James understood every word. Nick did as well, but he was much more occupied with trying to get under his wife’s dress.
“The lights don’t hide everything, you know,” James chided as the curtain finally went down for intermission. “People can still see what you’re trying to do.”
“Yeah,” I said with a giggle, “especially the girl sitting right next to you.”
Nick shrugged it off with a grin. “As if you haven’t had gotten a little frisky at the Royal Opera House yourself.” His grin faded as James threw him a pointed look. “I mean, of course you haven’t. None of us have.” With that, he snapped his fingers distractingly in the air, garnering the attention of a passing caterer. “Champagne?”
“Good idea.” I grabbed the nearest flute and downed it nervously as the elite crowd took notice of us and began to flock our way. “Lots and lots of champagne.”
People came and went, and we set up court in our box and welcomed them graciously. I found it extraordinary that so many people knew my friends, not only James but Abby and Nick as well. What was even more extraordinary was that the three friends knew all their names as well, even the names of their children, pets, and some of their house staff. It seemed no detail was too small for them to remember.
When we finally had a small break between well-wishers, I turned to James in astonishment. “How do you do that?”
“Do what?” he asked nonchalantly, looking down at the empty glass in his hand. “It’s only two bottles of champagne, Della. I’ll have you know that Nick and I have been building our tolerance for the better part of a decade, so—”
“No—this!” I gestured around to the hundreds swarming below. “You remembered that the guy in the bowler hat, even mentioned his spaniel, Norris. You remembered that the woman with the can recently took in her teenage niece. How do you know hundreds of random, trivial facts about hundreds of people? How do you do that?!”
“It’s easy,” James said with a shrug and a grin. “Just call it...mnemonics.”
“Like, word association?” I asked, unable to believe it.
“Yes.”
“Bullshit!” I said, folding my arms across my chest. “Show me.”
“Careful, Della,” Nick said with a chuckle. “That’s a challenge you won’t win.”
“Let her try,” James said, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. “The girl thinks I’m a liar.”
Nick shrugged and stret
ched out his arms. “All right, Jones. Pick your target.”
