This is the best part of living here, being one with nature, having time to de-stress and breathe in the fresh salty air and the breezes that rattle through the arbutus leaves and the smell of sunbaked moss.
If the royals end up moving next door, there’s a chance that all of this could change. I’m not a huge fan of change; I like my routine, as do a lot of people on the island. Bert wasn’t too far off when he said this might not be the best place for any kind of celebrity, especially a royal couple who have created headlines for two years straight and are now the hot topic of all media.
They could throw all the peace and serenity of the place into a tizzy. If they move next door, the paparazzi from the US and the UK will quickly find out, and they’ll be camped out here day and night. I won’t be able to sit on this dock without photographers on boats and Jet Skis flying past, disrupting the tranquility.
Most of all, someone like my mother, who can’t handle any change at all, will likely have a breakdown at the intrusion, thrusting her into the public eye.
It could all get very messy, very fast.
And I’m not even allowed to talk to anyone about it. Not that I have any close friends, but even so, this is a hard thing to keep to myself.
Unless . . .
After I’m done with my tea, I head back into the house, where I whip up a quick casserole for dinner, and then I’m in my bedroom, ready for my weekly podcast.
I usually record an episode during the week and then I publish it on Fridays. Tonight is a recording day, but suddenly, reviewing historical romance is the last thing I want to do.
I’m inspired. I want to talk about the royals.
My romance podcast—Romancing the Podcast—is quite popular, but I run it anonymously. Any social media I have is linked to the podcast, and it has its own email address for questions or review requests from authors. Most of the time, though, I just read the books I want to read. Less pressure that way.
It’s not that I’m ashamed of reading romance either; I’m pretty proud and vocal about it in my real life. But being a schoolteacher, I think we’re held to different standards, and I don’t want to feel censored on what I can and can’t talk about. If I want to read out a graphic sex scene, I want to be able to do that without fear that the public will find out and chastise me. In the worst-case scenario, I could lose my job over it. There are a lot of uptight fuddy-duddies on this island.
But tonight, I don’t want to talk about books. I want to talk about real-life romance. I want to talk about Monica and Eddie and what direction their love story could go now that they’ve chosen that love over the duties of being royals.
I sit down at my desk, open my laptop, and pull out my microphone.
Press record.
“Hello, my fellow romance enthusiasts, lovers of love, readers of smut, and proud bibliophiles. Welcome to another episode of Romancing the Podcast.” I take in a deep breath and smile. “Normally I would jump right in to this week’s review, but lately I’ve been thinking about the Duke and Duchess of Fairfax. We’re all familiar with the epic love story of Monica Red and Prince Eddie. We’ve watched as this very unlikely pair fell in love after Prince Eddie requested to meet Monica backstage at her London show. Their coupling was quick, and yet the public knew nothing about their affair until months later, when it was apparent the Grammy Award winner would be leaving show business behind to concentrate on her life with our tall, blond hero.
“Soon, wedding bells were in the air, and all of us—or almost all of us—fell for these two in the case of opposites attracting. Quiet, stoic Edward and the opinionated, fun-loving Monica became the couple of the century, flipping years of tradition and the royal family on its head.
“But even happily-ever-afters have bumps in the road, and as the media senselessly attacked the couple, with some reports of animosity coming directly from inside the royal palace, they bravely took a stand and said they were going to do things their own way. They were going to move on and make a new life for themselves as the Duke and Duchess of Fairfax. Now one can only wonder, what exactly does the future hold for these two? I, being a hopeless romantic, even though my love life has been anything but charming, can’t help but root for their new chance at a happily-ever-after. But will their quest for privacy and anonymity ever become a reality? Is there such a thing as an HEA if the happy part isn’t guaranteed? Come on, romance lovers, let’s discuss.”
Four
“Falafel?” Cynthia asks, poking her head in the classroom doorway, her brows raised expectantly.
I’m already getting out of my chair and grabbing my purse.
Lunch hour just started, and today feels all over the place. Tomorrow is Friday, the last day of school before summer vacation begins, and it’s hot and strangely humid, and the kids are absolutely zooey, with zero attention span. As a result, I’m frazzled with no place for my focus to land, so going into town for twenty minutes is probably the right course of action.
“Want to do coffee instead?” I ask Cynthia as we head down the hall. “I think I’ve had nothing but falafel and chips all week.”
Ted’s Falafel and Chips is the island’s oldest food truck, located right across from the elementary school and the high school next door. There’s always a huge line of teenagers outside, but when I’m pressed for time, it’s literally the closest place to grab a bite on days I forget to bring my own lunch.
This week, that’s been every day. I don’t know if it’s because it’s the last week before vacation or what, but my mind has been scattered.
“Sure, I could grab an iced coffee,” Cynthia says, and then her eyes light up. “And a cinnamon bun!”
With that, I know we’re heading to Salty Seas Coffee & Goods, where I already stopped this morning for my pre-class fix. They have the gooiest cinnamon buns imaginable; they’re melt-in-your-mouth and caramelized and almost crispy. I’m drooling already.
But as we’re walking down the street, past the kids and teens lining up at the chip stand or getting slushies from the gas station, Cynthia mentions how much busier this place is going to get this weekend, when kids are out of school across the country and the island swells up like a balloon, and then my mind backtracks to two weeks ago.
It goes back to Monica and Eddie.
It goes back to Harrison.
That fateful encounter with the PPO was the last I’d heard of them being on the island. I never saw him again. They never moved in. The town very quickly, within a day, went back to normal, and all the British paparazzi vanished.
As for my podcast, well, it ended up being my most listened to episode, with it spreading all over the romance community. Tons of people messaged me, wondering who I was and where I lived, while an equal amount said I was lying and full of shit. The joys of anonymous comments and all that. I think listeners were disappointed when my next episode went back to reviewing romance books and I didn’t mention the royals again.