Nora
Have you ever had one of those dreams where you’re walking into work or school and everyone’s looking at you, but you have no idea why? You don’t want to let your insecurities show, so instead of trying to figure out why everyone stops to stare, gawk, perhaps laugh, you continue on the path you’ve taken every day prior without incident?
That’s how it feels the moment I step out of the airplane, Anderson at my side. The lights and flashes from dozens of cameras blind me, my irises burning. What I wouldn’t give to hide behind a pair of sunglasses, but according to Anderson, those are a big no-no during official events. And this is now an official event.
I do everything to maintain my composure and act as if this is just another day. That I’m not being put on display for the world to critique and evaluate.
There’s so much noise and commotion, I can’t decipher a single question or comment shouted at us. But in the midst of it all, I draw strength from Anderson’s unwavering hold, his hand still intertwined with mine.
I glance at him, giving him a smile as he raises his free hand to wave at the crowd, his motions practiced. Remembering Bridge’s instructions, I do the same. I hope I don’t appear foolish. I never thought much about how to wave. Now I’m overly critical of myself. Is it too enthusiastic? Too indifferent? Too much? Not enough?
When Anderson squeezes my hand, I know that’s my signal for us to start walking down the stairs. Placing my free hand on the railing, I carefully descend the steps. I do my best to keep smiling, although it’s becoming more and more difficult, particularly when I’m able to decipher some of their questions.
“Is she pregnant, Your Highness?”
“Are you worried she’s only marrying you because of your money?”
“What does this mean for your relationship with Caroline DeVries, Your Highness?”
“What makes you think you’re better than someone from this country?”
“She’s not even that pretty, Your Highness. You can do much better.”
Anderson tightens his grip on me, silently telling me to ignore them. I can’t believe the balls some of these reporters have to ask such horrific questions and make such derogatory comments. We’re living in the age of social media. I’ve read my fair share of awful things. But you must have a serious lack of conscience to tell someone they’re a gold digger to their face when you know nothing about them.
By the time we reach the SUV, my nerves are frayed, each insult flung at me another scar against my skin. Sensing my agitation, Anderson’s quick to help me inside. Then, as instructed, he gives one final smile and wave before ducking in beside me.
Keeping my eyes focused straight ahead, I don’t take a breath until the airfield is far behind us. At least the crowd lining the streets from the airport seems a bit more supportive than the press, many of them holding signs congratulating us on our engagement. There are a few accusing Anderson of selling out his nationality, but the majority seem happy for him. I try to find comfort in that, but it’s difficult. How am I going to survive life in the spotlight as Anderson’s wife and a goddamn princess when I could barely handle the few seconds it took me to walk off the plane and to the car?
“You did great, Nora,” Anderson reassures me.
“Is it always like this for you?”
“Not usually.” He runs his fingers through his hair. “Yes, I’m often hassled by reporters or photographers when in public, but this kind of thing only happens when there’s been a big news story about the monarchy.”
I nod, gazing out of the window, not even able to appreciate my surroundings. The historic architecture. The cobblestone roads. The flower-adorned railings on the bridges across the canals. All I can think about is if we’ll ever be a normal couple again.
“Would you rather live your entire life in virtual reality where all your wishes are granted and dreams come true…,” Anderson begins after a long silence. “Or live in the real world where you may face things that frighten or scare you?”
I scrunch my brows at him. “What are you doing?”
He shrugs. “Would You Rather. Like when we were two strangers crazy enough to go on a road trip together. It seemed to break the tension back then.” He waves his hand. “I’d hoped it would break the tension between us now, too.”
I reach across the seat and squeeze his thigh. “As much as I hate the real world sometimes, I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”
“Either would I.” His shoulders relax as he exhales a long breath, a slow smile playing on his full lips. “Your turn.”
“My turn?”
“Have you forgotten how the game’s played? It’s been a while, but—”
“Okay. Okay,” I interrupt. “Just give me a minute.”
I chew on my lower lip, trying to come up with an appropriate scenario. It brings back memories of our early days together. Of the endless stretch of road as we traveled Route 66. Of gradually transitioning from complete strangers to friends. Then to something more than friends.
They are some of the happiest moments.
“Would you rather spend a year traveling the world on a shoestring budget, or spend a year living in luxury but be forced to remain in one country?”
“Is that even a question? A year traveling. Without a doubt.” He brings my hand to his lips. “Preferably on Route 66 so I can meet you for the first time all over again. Although, I must confess…”
“What’s that?” I tilt my head.
“Every day I wake up with you in my life feels like the morning after we first met. I still experience the same excitement. The same wonder. The same…faith.”
I sigh, losing myself in his eyes. In that one look, all my anxiety evaporates. “I don’t know how you do it, Anderson. But I manage to fall in love with you all over again every day. Even when you piss me off.”
He throws his head back, his laughter filling the small space. “I’ll try not to ‘piss’ you off. Although, you should be aware that piss has a different meaning here.”
“And what’s that?”
“Legless.”
“Legless?”
“Drunk.”
“Ah… Of course. I’ll have to remember that. I’m sure there’s a lot I’ll need to learn in the coming weeks and months.” I peer at him thoughtfully, then settle back into the seat, welcoming the distraction from the people lining the streets. “Tell me some of it.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m pretty new to this whole royalty thing. What are some of the rules I’ll have to adhere to? Other than the few you’ve already shared, like no sushi, which I’ve only agreed to because I like your dick too much.”
Creed laughs from the front seat, yet tries to cover it with a cough.
“I’m happy to hear that.” Anderson winks, then stares ahead, expression pinched in contemplation. “Here’s one you made me break on our road trip.”
“What? No associating with commoners?”