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Flora: What in the ever-living fuck is a Mothman and why were you molesting its butt?
She saw that? Of course. Mustache disguise or not, it was only a matter of time before social media’s facial recognition software automatically told on me.
Me: Flora, please! My fiancée left West Virginia without any clothes, and people are waiting for us to deboard the plane and although she’s beautiful no matter what, I can’t have her feeling self-conscious about short trousers and a Dolly Parton.
Flora: I got you.
I turn to Hailey and clasp her hand. “It’s all going to be okay. Help is coming.”
“Okay,” she breathes, nodding and working loose a lock from her haphazard topknot. I look at Hailey’s hair, which could use a comb if I’m forced to think like an average person and not someone absolutely mad about her.
Me to Flora: She’ll need a hat as well.
When the pilot and staff move to help us deplane, I stall them. “Not yet. We need a moment.”
The pilot checks his watch. “Of course, your highness. It’s only…I have another charter in ten minutes.”
“Ten minutes? Who is it?”
“The Marquis of Helsingstad.”
That dufus. “I’ll call him myself and ask him to delay his trip by one hour.
The pilot looks at the crew and shrugs.
Hailey leans in close and whispers, “This isn’t your family’s private jet?”
This is amusing on so many levels. “No, we don’t own our own plane, though my father would love to purchase our private jet. Mother won’t allow such extravagance, so we charter this plane with other titled families. I think it’s more that Mother is worried the king will disappear again. Much easier to keep a crew mum when the king directly employs them.”
“Oh my,” she whispers. “Well, I can understand where your mother is coming from with all of that. I hate to be indelicate, but I have to ask…”
“Ask me anything, love.”
She smiles shyly, then says, “You don’t…take after your father that way, do you?”
The idea of disappearing on her without a word feels like a punch in the gut. I did disappear from my family without a word, didn’t I? I wanted to escape the attention, the looks, the hovering. The gossip. But all I’ve done is made my family worry and possibly subjected Hailey to rumors in her hometown. I feel a sense of guilt as I come face to face with my own hypocrisy.
“It’s just that … there’s so much we haven’t discussed,” she adds.
Tenderly, I tuck a loose lock of hair behind Hailey’s ear. “Would I disappear on you without so much as a note, like I did to my family?”
Her throat bobs, and she nods.
“I would rather have my world turned upside down than not have you with me.”
She seems satisfied with this answer but comes back with, “You’ll tell me if you need space. Even if it has nothing to do with me. You’ll let me know where you are?”
I now recall some of the things she’s told me about her father. About how he would disappear for days and her mother not knowing where he was. Gambling all their money away and drinking himself to death.
“I can’t promise I’ll be the perfect husband. Sometimes the pressure of becoming the next leader will stress me out, and I’ll make impulsive decisions. But we’re partners now. We’re a team. Whatever the other person needs, we will discuss it together.”
“A team,” she repeats, nodding. I think there must be something behind her eyes, and I get the sense she’s putting on a brave face.
I’m about to ask her what more is on her mind when sirens blare in the distance, and all eyes go to the plane’s windows.
It’s not a fire truck or an ambulance and not a siren at all. My brother Sigurd’s car horn is blaring to clear a path to the stairs. People are cheering and clapping and going wild. Everyone loves Sig during the rare times he makes a public appearance. People love that he eschews the tradition of having a driver and a royal motorcade and instead drives his own car everywhere. In his attempts to stay below the radar, he’s a bit of a folk hero. Poor Sig.
The crowd erupts in delighted shrieks, and the camera flashes when Sig exits the driver’s door and hurriedly opens the passenger door. After several moments of squabbling and distributing trunks, bags, and boxes among her staff, stylists, various security guards, and attending military personnel, my sister has delivered half her wardrobe onto the plane.
