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In fact, Felicia is the whole reason I’m in Hallmark Beach now. Topher just doesn’t know it yet.
I try again. “Can I just tell you—”
“Why don’t you want to come home?”
And there it is—the question evenIcan’t fully answer. Definitely not to him, and maybe not even to myself. Because it would mean admitting that I’m running away.
From royal life, yes. But also from an unrequited, ill-fated love that I can’t seem to talk my heart out of. Sigh. I never fancied myself a runner, but here we are. It’s really quite pathetic, isn’t it?
I stand, because sitting isn’t really my style either. “Christopher Alexander James Huntington, I don’t care if you’re a prince. Stop interrupting me. I have something I want to say.”
Finally, blessed silence reigns on the other side while I turn and stalk across Main Street, veering down the alley between two buildings and out toward the still-bustling boardwalk.
Then, “What?”
“I want to plan a wedding for you and Lauren. One that happens before your official wedding. One that’s all about you guys.” And because I know he’s going to be confused—and I don’t want him to say no right away—I keep going, both my feet and mouth blasting forward. “Lauren’s miserable, Topher. Flutterbum has taken control of your whole affair, and it’s making her feel like she doesn’t get a say in anything.”
“I didn’t think anything Flutter—I mean, Butterflum—was asking was terribly unreasonable.”
I snort. “Really? Maybe Lauren hasn’t told you everything because you’re so busy.” I don’t mean to be accusatory, but if he wants examples, I’ll give him examples. “First, Flutterbum told Lauren she had to wear a dress with long sleeves and lace. Can you really picture Lauren choosing that for herself?”
“I mean, she’ll look beautiful in anything.”
“That’s not the point. A woman should feel gorgeously herself on her wedding day, but she told me she feels like a prissy poodle with all that lace.”
“I suppose I can see that.”
“But that’s not all. Not even close. Flutterbum’s also forcing Lauren to use our snooty cousins as bridesmaids, hold a bouquet that’s twice the size of her head when Lauren wanted something simple, and serve lobster at the reception despite the fact Lauren hates it and her own mother is allergic.”
“I—”
“And that’s just the big stuff. There’ve been countless small ‘compromises,’ as Felicia calls them, that Lauren’s had to make. But the straw that really broke her spirit happened last week when Felicia informed her that the two of you would not be allowed to share your first kiss during the ceremony because it’s being held inside a sacred church—something you honestly should have told her about months ago, but I digress.”
He groans. “What can I do? This is a royal wedding. There are certain sacrifices that must be made. And Lauren knows that.”
“Don’t you think she’s sacrificed enough? She’s already leaving all her friends, her life here in America, to live somewhere new—just to be with you, which, frankly I don’t understand in the slightest.” I end it all with a tease, because I know my brother’s heart is for Lauren, and it’s as soft as a biscuit soaked in tea. “I know you love her, and this is breaking her, Toph. Last week, when we were here in Hallmark Beach, Shelby got to decide everything about her own wedding day. And I saw Lauren visibly wilt before my eyes because she doesn’t get the same courtesy.”
He’s silent on the other line. Maybe now I have his attention.
“Listen, it doesn’t have to be this way. I know we can’t stop the speeding train that is Felicia Flutterbum and the royal wedding, but what if we could still give Lauren a day that’s all about the two of you? The way she would have planned it if she had the choice?”
“You think you could honestly do that?”
“Yes.” I think. I hope. I will. “You know how good I am at planning parties.” Maybe the only thing I’m good at, really. “And all it will take from you is three days cleared from your schedule and the ability to keep a secret from Lauren, because I want this to be a surprise for her. Can you do that?”
“Three days away? Chloe, you know I’m under immense pressure.”
“I know. But this isyourlife. You already give so much to our country. I think anyone would understand you taking a holiday.” I huff as my speed increases on the boardwalk, and I lap a pair of grandmothers with children toddling along in front of them. “Three days, Toph. A long weekend. That’s it.”
Rustling fills the receiver—presumably my brother’s physical calendar he keeps on his desk like the positively ancient dinosaur he is—and my chest burns as I speed walk, bits of sand on top of concrete crunching beneath my sandals. Finally, “The first weekend of April. I can arrive Friday but must return Monday.”
That only gives me little more than a week and a half.
But it’ll be enough. It has to be.
So long as Topher sticks to what he’s telling me and doesn’t allow himself to be drawn in by duty and the crown. “Are you sure? You can honestly get away?”
“It’s supposed to be my annual cabin retreat with Father to discuss matters of state. And life. But I think I can beg off, especially if I tell him what it’s for.”
