To be honest, after all that, I wasn’t surprised Ellie and Alexander had decided on a “surprise” visit. The less time my parents had to stress and think up new ways to be weird, respectively, the better.
“Just through the weekend,” Alexander answers, putting his hand on El’s knee and squeezing briefly. They’re usually so formal that a squeeze feels like the equivalent of them making out in front of me, and that is so not okay.
“We have to get back to Edinburgh by Tuesday,” Ellie says, “but we wanted to talk to you first.”
And then she smiles, covering Alexander’s hand with her own, and for the first time, I notice the emerald-and-diamond ring on her hand.
Her left hand.
Mom gasps, but it’s Dad’s reaction that sums up what I’m thinking.
“Bugger me, Ellie’s going to be a princess.”
Chapter 4
“A duchess, actually,” Ellie says, and I swear she looks a little bit embarrassed, using one perfectly manicured finger to push her bangs back to the side.
“Well, still a princess, technically,” Alexander counters, putting his hand over hers on her knee. “But yes, Eleanor’s title will be Duchess of Rothesay. Although, more importantly, she’s going to be my wife.”
El smiles at that, a real smile, the kind we don’t see much anymore. Once she started dating Alex, her smiles got a little frozen, a little fake.
From his spot in the doorway, Dad says, “Does this mean you’ll be able to have us beheaded? Because if so, I’d like to remind you that it was your mother who grounded you for sneaking out when you were fifteen. Granted,” he adds to Alex, “she was sneaking out to get more study time at the library, but it was still quite the scandal.”
“Dad,” El says, but Alex just laughs, and Mom waves her hands at Dad.
“Stop it, Liam,” she says. “No teasing today.”
Mom is wearing an old sundress, and there’s ink on her fingers, which means she was probably writing when Ellie and Alex showed up—Mom is old-school and does her first drafts on yellow legal pads—but she’s practically glowing. “This is all so exciting. Surely the most exciting thing that’s happened in our family.”
“I beg your pardon,” Dad says, folding his thin arms over his chest. “I was once shot out of a cannon filled with glitter at Wembley.”
“Liam,” Mom says again, but Alex just raises his eyebrows and says, “I think that beats a wedding, sir, I have to say.”
Dad holds out one hand, tilting it back and forth. “Equal at least.”
“We wanted to come here and tell you in person first, of course,” Alex says. Even though he’s Scottish, he sounds as English as my parents, if a lot more posh. El has a similar accent but starts sounding more like me when she’s home.
“Of course, there will be a formal announcement at Holyrood next week,” Alex continues, “and I’m sure there will be a fair amount of press attention, so let’s hope my southern cousins get into some kind of scandal, take a bit of the heat off.”
He smiles at that, glancing around at all of us, and I’m impressed how he manages to make all that sound super casual and normal. “Holyrood,” like it’s just a place and not a freaking palace. His “southern cousins” are the royal family of England, and holy crap, those will be El’s cousins, too.
El is going to be royalty.
“Are you sure about this?” I ask, and everyone’s head turns toward me. I look at Ellie, and . . . oh wow, I never understood the “glaring daggers” thing, but those are some sharp eyeballs.
Maybe that wasn’t exactly the best thing to say when your sister tells you she’s engaged, but I can’t help it.
“Oh, Daisy,” Mom murmurs, and Alex clears his throat as Ellie’s leg begins to jiggle. I know that tremor. I used to see it in the back seat of the car right before she’d elbow me or tell Mom I was being a jerk. Before Ellie left for Scotland, she could actually be a real person sometimes, complete with a temper, and every once in a while, bits of that person reappear.
“I’m sorry,” I say, looking around. “And, I mean, I guess we all knew this was coming, but it’s just . . .” I wave my hands around. “You’ve spent all this time keeping us separated from Alex’s family, and Alex’s family separate from us, and now you want to, like”—I move my hands again—“squash everyone together.”
Ellie’s face goes red, but whether it’s from embarrassment or rage, I’m not sure.
“It’s a wedding, not a squashing,” she finally says, but then Dad scratches his scruffy beard and says, “When you think about it, weddings are just very formal and expensive squashings.”
“Liam,” Mom chides, but she’s laughing and then adds, “Can you imagine the invitations? ‘We request the honor of your presence as our daughter squashes herself to this man.’”
Dad guffaws and Alex’s lips twitch a bit while Ellie’s nails dig into her thighs.
I widen my eyes, pointing at Mom and Dad. “See? This is what you’d be inflicting on Scotland. These people as the future king or queen’s grandparents.”
Mom laughs again, wiping her eyes. “Lord, I hadn’t even thought of that,” she says. “My grandbaby, a king!”
“Or a queen, don’t be sexist, Bessie,” Dad says, then wonders, “Do we get titles for that? Royal Grandad?”
It’s hard to know if he’s serious or joking, because such is Dad, and by now Ellie has gone so stiff and still that I think she might actually shatter into a billion shiny pieces in front of us.
Alex pats her knee again, then gives us the same game smile he probably has to give to crazy people who run up to him and insist they’re the real prince of Scotland. “We’ll see what we can do about that, sir,” he tells Dad, then looks to me.
“I realize this is going to be quite a change for you, Daisy.” Now I’m getting the Sick Kids in the Hospital Look—chin tilted down, brows drawn together, compassionate blue eyes. He does this a lot, relying on the combination of handsomeness and royal authority to convince us everything is going to be okay. “But possibly not as much as you’re thinking. We all do try to live fairly unremarkable lives, really, and we’re going to do everything we can to mitigate any . . . unpleasantness for you.”
Leaning back in my chair, I fold my arms over my chest. I like Alex—I do. He’s a genuinely nice guy, but he comes with a lot of baggage, and I can never escape the feeling that it’s more than a little unfair that I’m going to have to carry some of the weight, just so that Ellie can be a princess.