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“I’ve been doing some research. There are a lot more treatment options now than when Mum was diagnosed. You can even control possible relapses with diet and exercise. I’ve spoken with your private secretary. He says you’re scheduled to see a neurologist tomorrow. I’ve requested he also bring in a nutritionist and physical therapist. You’re lucky. According to my research, your form of MS isn’t severe.”
He barks out a laugh. “Lucky?”
Stumbling toward the wet bar, he recklessly sloshes more scotch into his rocks glass until it overflows and spills onto his hand.
“Not sure I’d call having the same disease that killed our mum lucky.” He throws back a large gulp, wincing through the burn as it slides down his throat. “Not sure I’d call having a medicine cabinet full of drugs lucky. Not sure I’d call possibly never being able to get a bloody erection again lucky, Esme.”
I square my shoulders, trying to remain as composed as possible when I’d love to break down and get drunk with my brother.
“Have you had difficulty getting an erection?” I ask hesitantly.
I typically don’t talk to Anderson about the details of his sex life. It’s different now. I need to know if he’s been experiencing any of the effects of his diagnosis.
“Definitely not.” A hint of a smile curves on his lips before his expression falls. “Not like it matters anymore since there’s no one I need to get it up for.” He walks toward the couch, collapsing beside me.
“I’m sorry, Anders,” I offer, placing my hand on his arm.
He squeezes his eyes shut and sucks in a gasp of air. His heartache is so palpable, it rolls off him in visible waves.
Despite the fact they only spent two weeks together, I have no doubt he loves Nora.
Over the past few weeks, I heard a change in his attitude during the daily phone conversations I insisted on, especially when I learned he decided to drive across America instead of returning home upon receiving his diagnosis.
At first, our conversations were filled with frustration as he brought up removing himself from the line of succession to save the royal household from doing it anyway. As time went on, as he spent his days with Nora, as he fell in love with Nora, there was no more frustration. No more despair. No more desolation.
Instead, I heard something I didn’t think I would after that first phone call.
I heard hope.
“I thought…,” he begins, his voice shaky with emotion. “I thought if I told her the truth myself instead of waiting for her to find out everything on her own, she’d see I didn’t mean to hurt her.”
“Maybe she just needs some time,” I suggest. “Needs to work things out in her head. We’re not exactly the easiest people to love.” I playfully shove him, trying to cut through the tension.
“That may just be the understatement of the century.” He blows out a small laugh, a ghost of a smile tugging on his lips.
It’s not his normal laugh or smile that lights up his entire face, but I’ll take the small victories where I can. Considering the state Anderson was in mere minutes ago, this sliver of happiness is a huge victory.
“But you and Tristan have made it work.” He sets his rocks glass onto the coffee table, then leans into the couch, resting his head on my shoulder.
I sigh, snaking my arms around him and pulling him close.
“Probably because he’s infinitely more well-known than I am. At least everywhere else.” I pause, biting my lower lip. “Hell, probably even here, too.”
It’s silent for a moment before Anderson pushes out of my embrace. “Well, I hope you’re ready to step into my shoes.”
“That’s why I’m here,” I tell him, ignoring his insinuation. “To help you out while you take some time for yourself. Get a handle on this new normal.”
He shakes his head, resting his elbows on his thighs. Then he fixes his stare back at me, any remnants of hope vanishing. “That’s not what I’m talking about, Esme. You remember what they did to Mum. This monarchy eliminates anything that can be seen as a sign of weakness.” He swallows hard. “Eliminates anyonewho can be seen as a sign of weakness.”
I grab both of his hands. “You are not weak, Gabriel Anderson. You’re the strongest person I know.”
“Not strong enough to fight the royal household. You know better than anyone how it is with them.” He gives me a knowing look.
“And thanks to you, I stood up for myself. You gave me the strength and courage to give myself a voice. Now it’s my turn to give you the strength to stand up foryourself. And you can.”
“We both know this isn’t remotely the same thing as them deciding who you should marry. There may come a day when I’ll need a cane to walk. That I’ll be stuck in a wheelchair. Do you really think the royal household will allow a bloody cripple to lead the country? Not to mention, there’s the referendum to worry about.”
“Referendum?” I furrow my brow.
