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“So, how do I fix it? How do I bring them back together in a way that basically knocks sense into his prejudiced family members?” I tapped my fingertips against the laptop. “I feel like they’re not going to come around by themselves and there needs to be some kind of catalyst for the change, but I don’t know what that catalyst could be.”
Max pressed his lips together and joined me on the outdoor sofa, sitting on the other part of the L-shaped seat. “Well, you generally find a level of hypocrisy in families like that. The heir is held to a higher standard than other family members, siblings included.”
I frowned.
“For example, if my parents had had another child, they would have been able to do pretty much whatever they wanted, whereas I would have been encouraged to marry the right woman.”
“What is the right woman? What does that even mean?” I asked, holding my palms up in confusion. “Because that’s the right person for the job, right? Not the right person for you?”
“Pretty much. Think back to when Prince William and Catherine got married.”
I cocked my head questioningly.
“There was a big hullabaloo back then because she wasn’t deemed to be good enough for the future king. As a, uh—” He grimaced. “—Commoner.”
I wrinkled my nose at the term.
“Exactly. There was a sect of the aristocracy who thought he should have married someone of noble blood, if you will. He married the woman he loved instead, and to her credit, she’s proven them all wrong.” He stretched his legs out and crossed them at the ankles. “On the other hand, other members of the Royal Family have been able to marry commoners without anyone so much as sniffing in their direction. The script is written differently for the heir.”
“I think I understand. So I could have the hero bring up the fact that a sibling or close cousin has married a commoner and—ugh, I hate that word,” I groaned.
“It is rather Tudor-esque, isn’t it?”
“No kidding.” I sighed. “Okay. Have the hero bring up that he’s treated differently to everyone else and point out his family’s hypocrisy. But how do I bring the heroine around? I can’t have one of his family members visit her because that happened in my last book.”
“That’s for you to figure out,” Max said slowly. “I’m not sure I can help with that kind of thing.”
“Mmph. I thought you were going to say that.”
“Hey, if I help you any more than I have, I’m going to want to be named co-author.”
“In your dreams!”
He grinned, and my silly little stomach did a silly little flip that only silly little lovesick women felt.
I pushed the laptop away and sighed. “I’ll figure it out. It’ll probably come to me as I write. I was all gung-ho about fucking them up that I didn’t think it through, but now I’m too committed to back out.”
“Why don’t we get some dinner?”
“Dinner? It’s too early for dinner.”
“Ellie, it’s five-thirty.”
“Oh,” I said slowly. “I did forget to eat dinner last night.”
“How does one forget to eat dinner?”
“Well, I forgot to eat it at an acceptable time,” I corrected myself. “I ate a cheese and crisp sandwich at ten p.m. before I spent a very normal three hours building a house in The Sims.”
Max’s eyes glinted with laughter. “Sounds like you need a real dinner.”
“Maybe.”
“I was going to cook spaghetti Bolognese tonight. It’s far more enjoyable to cook for two people.” He got up and held out his hand, and I let my gaze slide to his large hand with its roughened skin. “If you’re only here for another week and you’re going to kill yourself working, at least let me make sure you’re eating one hot meal a day.”
“Max,” I said quietly. “You don’t need to do that.”
“I want to. Please?”
