Text from me to Tessa: What are you doing this afternoon/evening?

Tessa: I’ll be at work until well after midnight. We go to press tonight and we need to report on the ice storm. Why? What’s up?

Me: Damn. The cross-country skiing nationals had to be postponed so I find myself with twelve hours of free time. I thought maybe you could come over so I could keep you warm.

Tessa: Now I wish I hadn’t asked. I’ll be even more grumpy for the rest of the day knowing what I’m missing out on.

Me: Even more grumpy? What’s wrong.

Tessa: I’ve had a big lecture from Hazel about the perils of marrying someone of a different class.

Me: Oh, Christ. What does she know?

Tessa: She did it and her husband fell out of love with her after the passion wore off.

Me: Well, that’s because she started wearing floor-length sweater vests. Any man would struggle to maintain wood with that walking around all day.

Tessa: You’re awful.

Me: Not awful. Just honest. Wait, how will you get home in this storm? The police are about to announce that they’re shutting down the main roads.

Tessa: I’m walking to Nikki’s. She’s about two blocks from here.

Me: Will there be naked tickle fights?

Tessa: Umm, no.

Me: You sure? Because even if there’s even a thirty percent chance, I’ll strap on some skates and make my way over to her flat.

Tessa: Eye-rolling.

Me: And blushing, I’m sure. Don’t worry about Hazel’s cautionary tale. She doesn’t know us. We’re going to be amazing together.

Tessa: I know. It’s just a little disheartening to know the rest of the kingdom can’t see it.

Me: They’ll get the idea in about thirty years or so.

Tessa: That soon?

Me: Sooner if you come over right now…

I wait for two full minutes but no answer comes, so I get up from my desk and make my way back to my apartment, strolling through the quiet halls of the palace, having sent the staff home hours ago so that they wouldn’t have to brave the icy roads during rush hour. Dexter, who has been sleeping on a large dog bed in my office, follows me down the hall. “Well, Dex, looks like it’s just you and me tonight…and Chester, the fish, of course. Between you and me, he’s not the best company. A little standoffish for the most part, but don’t tell Tessa I said that.”

We watch Frozen Planet, one of Dexter’s favourite David Attenborough documentaries, until he falls asleep on the couch. I wander around my apartment, feed Chester a few flakes of his fish food even though Tessa has left strict instructions not to feed him more than once a day.

But, come on. How’s the little guy supposed to survive on such a small amount of food? I stare out the window. The freezing rain has given way to snow, which is now blanketing the meadow as it drifts and flutters from the sky.

Fuck, I’m bored.

Completely and utterly bored after only one-hundred-eight minutes of unscheduled time to myself. I set off down the hall in search of my grandmother, to see if she might be free for dinner. I knock and wait for a few seconds before the door is opened by none other than my old schoolmate and the woman everyone assumed I would one day marry, Lady Dr. Brooke Beddingfield. “Arthur,” she says, kissing me on both cheeks, “I was hoping I’d catch you today.”

“Brooke, what are you doing here? I thought you were still in Zamunda.”

“I got homesick and decided to come home early for Christmas.” She steps aside and I enter my grandmother’s apartment, only to see her pulling on her cardigan.

“Everything okay, Gran?”

“Yes, dear. I’m just fine. Brooke, here, was just saving me a call to Dr. Griffin.” There’s something about the way she says it that sets off alarm bells in my head.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m quite healthy—aren’t I, Brooke, dear?”

Brooke smiles. “The Princess Dowager is in remarkable shape for someone over eighty.”

“Well, thank you for checking on her.” I stare at my grandmother for a moment, then decide not to push the subject any further. Just because she’s nearing ninety doesn’t mean I get to start treating her like a child. “Gran, the storm has given me a rare evening off so I thought I would see if my favourite lady might be available to share a meal with me.”

Grandmother rolls her eyes at me. “Liar. Your favourite lady must have turned you down for this evening.”

“Well, yes, she has to work late, but that doesn’t make my invitation any less sincere.”

“Sure it does, but it doesn’t matter anyway because I’m busy,” Gran says. “I have a monthly poker game with some of the men who work in the garage. See if I can earn back some of the money we pay them.”

She winks at Brooke, whose mouth drops open in shock. “Relax, Brooke—I’m only joking. I’ll let them leave with most of their money.”

“But I sent everyone one home.”

“Don’t worry, El Cheapo. They’re off the clock,” Gran quips.

“I’m not cheap. I’m merely concerned for their safety.”

“They’re staying overnight in the staff quarters.”

“Ah, I see,” I say. “In that case, have fun. But not too much fun.”

Gran waves off my comment, looking more than ready for me to stop hovering around like a helicopter grandson.

“If you’re in need of a dinner companion, I find myself free this evening.” Brooke smiles up at me and tosses her red hair over her shoulder. “Unless, of course, Tessa would mind us sharing a meal together. I wouldn’t want to do anything to make her feel uncomfortable.”

“Why would she mind me eating with an old friend? I assure you she’s far too secure than to let something like that bother her.” Hmm, then why am I getting an unsettled feeling in the pit of my stomach?

Brook grins. “Glad to hear it because, with your position and popularity, she’ll have to get used to sharing you with the world.”

“Won’t be a problem, not for a woman like her,” I say with a firm nod. There, that’s better. As long as I talk about Tessa the entire time, this whole dinner will be completely above board. “Oh, I’m afraid you’ll have to put up with my signature scrambled eggs.”

“You mean you still haven’t progressed past your first Gordon Ramsay lesson?” She laughs, closing her doctor’s kit.

“He never came back, for some unknown reason.”

“It’s because you’re a very slow learner, dear,” says Gran. “And he knew he would end up calling you a donkey if he came back.”

Brooke laughs and gives my gran a quick kiss on the cheek. “You’re always such a delight, Princess Florence.”

She crosses the room and hooks her arm into mine, an old habit of hers that I’ve always found a little bit awkward.

“Well, good luck tonight, Gran. Try not to clean them out completely. It’s almost Christmas, after all.”

“It would be quite rude of me to let them win. It’s not a charity event. Now, out you go so I can have my quick pregame nap.”

Brooke and I walk down the long hall, and then take the lift to the main floor where the private kitchen is. The entire time, she chats about how much she misses everyone in Avonia and how different her life is now that she works for the Doctors of the World Foundation. She has dedicated her life to serving others, and spends most of her days inoculating babies and young children, and dealing with myriad health emergencies of those who can find their way to the clinic. I listen as I pull all the ingredients out of the fridge and start grating some cheese.

Brooke washes her hands and finds a knife and cutting board and begins to chop up some tomato while she talks. I try to focus on what she’s saying, but part of me is troubled by Tessa’s boss trying to talk her out of marrying me.

“Arthur? Arthur. Where is your mind this evening?”

“What? Sorry, Brooke. I’m afraid I’m just a little bit distracted.”

“What’s on your mind?” Brooke pulls a bottle of white wine out of the fridge and holds it up to me.

“Good idea. That will go nicely with the eggs.” I open the drawer in which we keep the bottle opener then slide it across the marble counter to her. She catches it deftly with one hand and makes quick work of the cork while I take two glasses down from the cupboard.

Once it’s been poured, she holds her glass up to mine. “To old friends.”

“To old friends.” I nod and we both take a sip.

She sucks back half the glass, then says, “Let’s be really naughty.”

Oh, bugger. I was afraid of this. “Pardon me?”

She gives me a sly smile. “Let’s have toast with the eggs instead of salad.”

I laugh, relieved that she didn’t just suggest we eat in the nude while she cups my crown jewels. “There’s some bread in the bin over there.”

“This feels like old times, doesn’t it?”

“I don’t recall us cooking together before.” I take my phone out of my pocket to check for messages, and see Tessa hasn’t texted.

“Chemistry lab, remember? Or have you already forgotten first-year English Lit at Oxford?” She laughs, touching my forearm.

“No, of course not. Professor Fumbledore…”

“With the long beard and round glasses…”

“Who never managed a sip of coffee without spilling on himself,” I add.

Brooke laughs like I’ve just said the wittiest remark she’s ever heard while I turn my attention to the stove.

She gets to work, humming a little before saying, “So, are you going to tell me or do I have to guess?”

“Guess what?”

“What’s on your mind.”

“Oh, that. It’s nothing. Just…work.”

Brooke raises one eyebrow. “No, it’s not. You’re forgetting who you’re talking to. I know all your secrets. Well, I used to, anyway.” She smiles sadly and has another sip of her drink.

“Yes, I suppose you did.”

“And have I ever told anyone any of them?”

“I assume not.”

She glares for a moment, letting me know she doesn’t appreciate my little quip.

“Fine, no. You’ve always been a very loyal friend.” I turn and fire up the gas burner, then add some olive oil to the pan.

“And I always will be, no matter what. So you can tell me anything, Arthur. In fact, it might make you feel better.”

“I’m fine, really. Very happy, in fact.”

“Oh, come now. You have barely cracked a smile since I got here. You can’t be that happy.”

“It’s nothing. Really. I’m just feeling a bit sorry for myself because I hardly ever see my fiancée.”

The toaster pops and Brooke sets to work buttering the bread. “I hope one of my dearest friends isn’t being neglected by the love of his life.”

“No, it’s nothing like that. It’s not like she’s off gallivanting around the world with her friends or something.”

“But she’s not here either, is she?”

“No, she’s not.” I adjust the heat on the burner. “Tonight, she’ll be at the office until the wee hours of the morning to help put out a rather thin publication that will be read by a handful of people before it’s used to line birdcages.”

Brooke laughs, the sound of it reminding me of a witch’s cackle.

“Please forget I said that. It was very unkind of me. I only said it because it seems pointless for her to be working such long hours when she’s going to quit shortly before the wedding.” I stir the eggs, my chest tightening with guilt.

“I was wondering when she’d leave her job.”

“We decided it was best to wait.”

“Whatever for? I’d think she’d be absolutely snowed under getting ready for the wedding and her new life.”

“She is, but Tessa was worried she’ll look like a gold-digger if she leaves her job now.”

A strange look crosses Brooke’s face, but she covers it with a smile. “That makes sense. I’m sure many would think that.”

“Anyway, none of it matters in the end. This is all temporary and, besides, Tessa and I are very much in love. Whatever comes our way, we’ll manage to get through it together.”

“I’ve never seen you backpedal so fast. It’s only human to air your feelings about your significant other from time to time. In fact, it’s not healthy for your relationship to keep everything bottled up inside.”

“Is that your professional medical opinion?”

Brooks smiles and curls her hair around one finger. “Yes, it took me seven years of higher education to discover that little tidbit of wisdom. As a doctor who has your bests interests at heart, I’m telling you, you need to talk.”

“Yes, well, that may be true, but I’m not sure how Tessa would feel about me complaining to you when I really should be talking to her.”

“It has to be a two-way street, Arthur. She can’t expect to be engaged in a modern relationship, in which she maintains a career that complicates your life, and not allow you to have friends to talk to when you’re upset about it.”

I stir the eggs with more vigor than normal. “Her job doesn’t complicate my life.”

“Well, it certainly doesn’t ease your burden in any way that I can see,” she says. She pauses for a moment, waiting for a response. I don’t give her one.

I tip back the rest of my wine, then pour another before dishing up the eggs and the fried tomatoes.

When we’re seated, she puts her hand on mine. “How about this? You air one grievance about your relationship and I’ll do the same.”

I slide my hand out from under hers and pick up my fork. “I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.”

“I had to find one since you were never going to come around,” she says, laughing even though I’m not entirely sure that was a joke. “He’s an accountant for the Doctors of the World Foundation. It’s a long-distance thing, though, since he’s stationed in London.”

“Wait a minute. He’s in London and you’re here on your time off?”

“Things are very casual at the moment, but he’ll be joining my family at Christmas for a couple of days.”

“Is that what bothers you about him? You’d like it to be more serious?”

“No. To be completely honest, he’s a little bit long-winded. And, even for an accountant, he can be a bit dull. But he’s a good man and a very good kisser, so I can overlook the rest.” She takes a bite of the eggs, then makes an mmm sound. “Delicious, Arthur. I can see why you stick with this dish.”

“Thank you.”

She empties her wine, then picks up the bottle and tops us both off. “Now, you.”

“You what?”

“You go. I told you my complaints about Evan. Your turn.”

“I already did.”

She raises one eyebrow. “You’re no fun. You’ve only told me that she has a career.”

“Other than that, she’s perfect.”

“Nobody’s perfect.”

“She is.”

Brooke makes a gagging face and points at her mouth with her index finger.

“No, seriously, she is.”

“You know what’s serious? The trouble you’ll be in if you don’t take off those blinders before the wedding. Couples fare much better when they’re honest about each other’s shortcomings from the start. It prevents the big letdown that most people get when they finally acknowledge the other person is human.”

“I know what her faults are, Brooke. I just don’t feel the need to badmouth her.”

“It’s not badmouthing. It’s just letting out a little of the buildup of frustration. Fine if you don’t want to talk to me, but find someone to talk to. Have you spoken to Chaz lately? Maybe you’d feel better talking to him.”

“He’s been living in New York for the past couple of years since they moved to be near her family,” I say, happy to change the subject. “As far as I know, they’re doing quite well. Two kids already and his law firm is killing it.”

“Good for Chaz. But that still won’t help you.”

“I don’t need help. I’m very happy.”

“Okay, suit yourself.” She shrugs. “You always have been a stubborn arse, never admitting when someone else might know what’s good for you.”

“All right, fine. I just wish the rest of the country would either accept our upcoming marriage or shut the hell up about it already. So what if she’s a mechanic’s daughter or she’s a little accident-prone? She’s a good person—strong and brave and kind, and she’s going to make a wonderful queen one day.”

“There. Was that so hard?” she asks, standing and making her way over to the island and getting out another bottle of wine. She uncorks it and brings it to the table without asking if I’d like more. Honestly, I don’t even mind because I do want another drink. I’d like several, in fact.

Before I know it, I’m getting up to grab a third bottle of wine. Fuck it. Might as well make a night of it. I end up pouring my heart out about how difficult it is to be engaged to someone whose supporters hate me and who my supporters hate. I tell her about Hazel, and Phyllis and Daniel, the couple from the hospital, who warned us against marrying each other. I tell her about the #IHateTessa Twitter feed, but stop short of mentioning the #BrookeIsBetter bit.

She listens intently, nodding and providing a surprising amount of sympathy for both Tessa and myself. “I have to admit, Arthur, I wasn’t a fan at first. Not after all the things she wrote about you in her Royal Watchdog days. But if you say she’s a good person, I believe it.”

“Thank you. If only everyone else out there were like you. I can’t even seem to get Arabella to give her a chance.”

She puts her hand over mine. “She’ll come around. You just need to give her time.”

* * *

It’s late by the time I walk Brooke to one of the guest rooms. I was going to send her home in a cab but the police haven’t opened the roads yet. My wine-soaked brain is attempting to set off warning signals of some sort but I can’t figure out what for. Or for what? What’s the proper way to word that? The not-drunk way?

Fuck it. I’m drunk. “There you are Lady Dr. Beddingfield. Your room. You should find everything you need.” I bow, tipping forward slightly and bumping into her.

She laughs hysterically and grabs me, pulling me up to standing. Then her face grows serious and I know exactly what she’s about to do. So I back up two steps and say, “Sleep well.”

“You, too.”

I turn to stumble toward my room but her voice stops me.

“Arthur, it really is nice to be with you again like this. I almost forgot how much fun we have together.”

I stop and turn. “Me, too. I’m glad we had a chance to get caught up.”

“If you ever need to talk, please know I’ll always be here for you. In fact, I’ll be here for whatever you need.” Her face grows solemn. “Any time.”

“Why, thank you, Madame,” I say, putting on as formal a voice as possible to try to make light of what I know was a very serious offer.

“Can I tell you something?” Her gaze is intense, and I’m not sure that I want to hear what she has to say, but I nod anyway.

“I’m worried that you and Tessa are rushing into this marriage without really knowing each other. You just have such different backgrounds, and it seems to me that you have very different ideas about what you want out of this life. I just think you should slow down a bit, maybe.”

I lean one hand against the wall to stop the hallway from spinning. “The date is already set. It’s happening and I’m absolutely thrilled about it.”

“Are you?” She shakes her head a little bit. “I’m just trying to say—as a friend—that maybe you could find a reason to postpone the whole thing. Just to give yourself a little more time to be sure.”

“No need, my friend.” I spin on my heel and make my way toward my room, calling back to her, “We’re very much in love.”

A few minutes later I flop onto my bed fully clothed, and drop into a dead sleep, completely forgetting to text Tessa to say goodnight and tell her I love her.

* * *

Text from Brooke to Me: I knocked on your door this morning, but you were either gone or still sleeping. I wanted to thank you for last night.

Me: I was probably working out already. Did you find a ride home?

Brooke: Yes, thanks. Always the gentleman. About my offer…that came out wrong. I only meant that I’d like to be here for you as a friend. Tessa, too. I’m sure she and I will become the best of friends as soon as we have a chance to get to know each other.

Me: I’m sure you will. She’s amazing.

Brooke: Let’s make sure we have some time together before I leave town. The three of us, I mean.

Me: Yes, let’s.

I stare at the exchange, wondering if her tone last night held her true intention or if her text today does. I suppose, in the end, it doesn’t matter, does it? Even if she does have an interest in me, it’s not mutual. She can wish we were a couple all she wants, it won’t change anything. Not that she does wish it. But I suppose she might…

Text from Tessa to Me: Hey, sweetie. Just getting up now. Was at the office until close to one a.m., so by the time I slid my way to Nikki’s she was asleep.

Me: So, no naked tickle fights then?

Her: Haha. No. I’m not in the mood anyway. I’m super grouchy from all the crap at work lately. What’d you end up doing?

Me: Had some eggs and wine and went to bed, missing you horribly.

Her: You made eggs without me? That sucks. Now, I’m even more grumpy than ever.

Me: Come by now, I’ll make you some and show you how much I missed you.

Her: I wish. Heading back to the office.

Okay, so I know that was a perfect opportunity to tell her that Brooke was here, but I’m not sure that’s the type of thing you text to your fiancée when you don’t have a chance to a) gauge her reaction, and b) explain. Plus, she did admit to being ‘super grouchy’ so, clearly, this isn’t the time, and if there’s one thing about making a relationship work, it’s that timing is everything.