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Patrick reminds him that there is an indoor swimming pool that’s heated. It might be too dark to go outside, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t time to have some fun after dinner.
The driveway seems never-ending as we trundle down the road for what seems like miles. “Are we there yet?” I tease. Alex has been asking the same question repeatedly for the past two hours.
“Almost,” Patrick says, giving me the same answer he gave Alex. He barely has the words out when a beautiful, dark blue, two-story home comes into view. It’s large, with white shuttered windows and a wrap-around porch that looks like it goes all the way around the house.
“Wow! Is that my new home?” Alex asks.
“For the time being. I know it’s not a palace like you’re used to, but the people inside plan to take really good care of you,” Patrick tells him.
“It’s amazing! But you’re staying with us too, right?” Alex asks, hopefully.
“Absolutely. My room will be right across the hall from yours and your mom’s. My parents’ room is on the first floor, which gives an added layer of protection. In fact, there they are,” he says, pointing to a handsome couple making their way down the porch steps so they can come and greet us.
As soon as Patrick is out of the truck, Mrs. Kent jogs over to him with her arms extended. She’s shorter than me by a few inches but looks extra tiny compared to her son. I giggle at the sight, especially when she says, “There’s my precious baby boy! Give your momma some sugar!”
Patrick embraces her fiercely, picking her up so her legs dangle. She titters lightly and says, “I’m not ready to go to Heaven yet, so why don’t you put my feet back on solid ground? The air is getting thin up here, and it’s hard to breathe.” Once he does as she asks, his father also comes in for a hug.
I try to exit the vehicle quietly, but Alex has no such reservations. He slides out of the truck, leaving the door open as he runs around the back so that he can be next to Patrick. I close it for him before I follow, using the time to take a deep breath and compose myself before I meet Mr. and Mrs. Kent.
“Who is this handsome little man?” Mrs. Kent asks.
“My name is Prince Alexander Caras, and it’s a pleasure to meet you!” He bows, doing what he has been taught to do. Mr. Kent bows in return.
“Mom. Dad. This is Princess Ariella Argos and Prince Alexander Caras.
From here on out, they will always be referred to as Aria and Lex if anyone is around. Ariella, Alex, these are my parents, Charlotte and Donovan Kent.”
I shake their hands. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both. For the record, it’s Caras, not Argos,” I say without explanation. Patrick’s questioning gaze could bore holes through steel if he had laser eyes like Superman. I shrug. “It wasn’t necessary to change my last name,” I tell them. If Ethan didn’t bother telling Patrick that I never married Kiernan, then he must have had his reasons. It’s for the best since it will help me keep my distance and feelings in check. If anyone bothers to ask, I won’t lie. But I don’t see any reason to say anything until that happens.
Sensing the tension permeating the air, Charlotte claps her hands together loudly. “Now that introductions are over, let’s get your luggage inside and some food in your bellies. I’ve made a nice, home-cooked meal with all of Patrick’s favorites. Once you tell me what you like, I’ll make your favorites, too.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Kent.”
“There will be none of that Mr. and Mrs. stuff around here. Everyone is like family, and you’re included in that. You can call me Charlie and my husband, Don or Donnie. He also responds to, ‘Hey you, Pops, and Honeybun,’ but the last one is reserved just for me,” she winks.
As Patrick and his father begin unloading the truck, she tells them, “While you three strapping men take care of that, I’m going to show Ariella around the farm.” Patrick looks dismayed since he is supposed to be our shadow, always nearby. She reassures him, “I have my Canik on me, not to mention your team is set up in the bunkhouse, which won’t be far from where we’ll be. She’s in good hands.” He sighs but doesn’t argue with her. Smart man.
Alex is quick to grab a bag and help them unload, leaving Charlie and me alone. She takes my hand and silently leads me toward the back of their home, where the bunkhouse is in full view, just as she said it would be.
Once we’re out of sight, she drops my hand and crosses her arms across her chest, her smile disappearing. “Ariella, will you please explain to me why Alex looks like the spitting image of Patrick at his age? And why you haven’t told my son that he’s his father?”
Chapter seven
Patrick
Iknew my mom could handle herself and keep Ariella safe since she grew up on this farm, as did I. When my father retired from the Navy Seals twenty years ago, he eventually joined us here and settled back in. During my childhood, his missions took him away for such long stretches of time that it made sense for us to stay in Montana while he was stationed in California.
It wasn’t just my parents’ relationship that was long distance for the last ten years of his career, but also the one between him and me. We didn’t have video conferencing with Skype or Facetime back then; phone calls, letters, and dial-up emails were the primary ways for us to stay connected. When he was stateside for long periods, we would go and stay with him in California. For his shorter stints, he would come here to see us. Since I was homeschooled until the sixth grade, it was easy for us to pick up and go. It wasn’t until my grandfather passed away, leaving the farm to my mom, that tough decisions had to be made. My father had to decide what was more important to him: his career or his family. The family won by a wide margin.
“Son, she’s in good hands with your mother. You don’t have to keep looking back every five seconds to see if she’s there,” my dad says, smiling.
It’s not that I think she’s in any real danger, but the glint in my mom’s eyes hinted that she was up to something. It’s that glint that has me more worried than anything else. “I’m not so sure about that, Pops. Did you see the look in Mom’s eye before she took Ariella out back?”
“I may be old, but I’m not blind. Of course, I did,” he says.
“First of all, you’re not old, Pops. You’re seasoned. And second, if you saw ‘the look,’ why aren’t you going to do anything about it?” I retort.
“And what, pray tell, do you expect me to do? She’s got a gun, and no one can stop your mother when she sets her mind to something.”
