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“To turn the monarch into more of a ceremonial role, like in the U.K.”
“And like every year before, it will fail to garner enough signatures to even make it onto the ballot.”
He shakes his head, his expression grave. “Not this time, Esme. It got the required signatures. It’s on next year’s ballot.”
I blink, my stomach sinking.
I’ll be the first to admit that the monarchy system of government is antiquated and outdated. While no political system is perfect, giving people a say in who represents them is important. The people serving in our unicameral legislature are elected, but the person leading this country is not. The only thing that’s kept the anti-monarchist movement from gaining any meaningful traction over the years is the fact that each monarch has been independent, never siding with one political party over another. It also helps that there’s an unspoken rule that each monarch will voluntarily abdicate when they reach the age of sixty-five, which my father is only a few years away from.
“That doesn’t matter, Anderson,” I say, doing my best to remain positive. “While you may be frustrated now about all the changes, you’ll get through it. You just need to show them that this won’t affect how you do your job. You werebornfor this role. And not because you just so happened to be born before me,” I add quickly when I sense he’s about to make some joke that he technicallywasborn for this.
“I’ve watched you over the years. Seen how you interact with the people. They adore you. I have no doubt they’ll see your diagnosis for what it is. A strength. You’re one of the strongest people I know, so I need you to be strong now, too. We’ll take the next few days and see what course of treatment your medical team recommends. Get you on a new diet. With all these advances in medicine, you’ll go on to live—”
“A long and happy life?” he scoffs, all the positive ground I thought I’d gained evaporating. “Happiness isn’t in the cards for us, Esme. We’re not allowed to be happy. Just to... Just to be, I suppose. To serve a purpose. And when we no longer serve that purpose…” He sighs, collapsing back into the couch. “They’ll eliminate us using whatever means necessary.”
He rests his head against my shoulder once more and closes his eyes, the combination of alcohol and the stress of his diagnosis wearing on him. I want to ask when the last time he slept was. Or ate.
He’d landed back in Belmont only a few hours before me. I doubt he slept much the last few days he spent in California with Nora, knowing it was most likely going to end once he came clean about everything. Couple that with all the alcohol he’s had and the jet lag, it doesn’t take long before I hear his gentle snores fill the room.
But I don’t leave. Instead, I pull him close, pressing a soft kiss to his head, my heart aching for my brother.
When I left Paris this morning, I honestly thought it would be a quick trip. I’d stay long enough to help him adjust to this new normal, but given how resilient he’s always been, I’d probably only need to stay a week. Then I’d return to my life.
Now I fear that may no longer be possible.
ChapterFive
Creed
“You’re home!”
The second I walk through the door to my house, I’m assaulted by two small arms wrapping around my torso.
Although, they’re not as tiny as they once were.
Adam Jr., or AJ for short, has been growing more and more with every passing day. After only seeing him during our daily FaceTime chats for the past month while I was traveling with Anderson, it feels like he’s grown another inch. Like he’s starting to resemble his father more and more.
He still has a round face, but his cheeks are becoming more chiseled and angular as he matures. His dark brown hair is a tousled mess, much like his father's was at that age. But what always makes a pang squeeze my heart are his eyes — the same dark irises with flecks of gold as his father.
I have to swallow down the sorrow at the reminder that Adam never got to meet his son. That he wasn’t here to watch him take his first steps. Or hear his first word.
But I like to think he’s watching over us. That he’s seen all the sacrifices I’ve made and has forgiven me for the things I said to him in his final few hours.
“Hey, little man.” I return AJ’s hug, inhaling his familiar scent. “Have you been good for your mum?”
“Of course.”
“That depends on your definition of good.”
I tear my attention from AJ as Rory saunters into the open living area of the house. It’s a stark contrast to the formality and order of Anderson’s estate. A few cups and dishes are left on the coffee table, AJ’s football jersey draped over one of the barstools by the island, his school laptop charging beside it. But it’s home. It has been for the past nine years.
After Adam’s death, I moved in to help Rory with AJ. It was just supposed to be temporary. Once AJ was a little older, I planned to get my own place.
But even as he got older and became less demanding on Rory’s time, I hated the idea of leaving them. It’s hard enough to be away from AJ for weeks at a time when I’m traveling with Anderson. Not to mention, I now understand how difficult being a parent is. I may not be AJ’s father, but I’ve tried to be a father figure to him. Tried to instill in him all the values my brother would have. Tried to be a good role model for him.
So instead of moving out, I stayed. I tell myself it’s because I want to be here for AJ. But a lot of it has to do with guilt over the way I treated Adam the last time I spoke to him. I may not be able to tell him I’m sorry, but I can make it up to him now. Which is what I’ve spent the past nine years doing.
“Hey, Rory.” I move toward her and bend down to brush a kiss to her cheek.
